Page 163 of Hale Damage
I look up when someone enters my office area, and the warm smile I’d put on my face freezes. A woman marches with purpose toward me. She’s got perfectly coiffed raven hair and is wearing a low-cut white jumpsuit with matching heels.
I recognize her instantly. She’s the woman I saw on the screen ofRemi’s phone that night almost eight years ago. The one listed as “Darling Fiancée.”
My heart takes a nosedive. Serena Greenfield, Remi’s best friend, is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. Her skin is smooth alabaster and her blue eyes are blazing with… anger?
Forcing the smile to stay on my face, I say, “Good morning. Can I?—”
Without even glancing at me, she cuts me off with a sharp, “I’m here to see Remi.” That’s when I realize she’s bypassing my desk and heading for his office door.
I stand. “I’m sorry, but he’s in a meeting right now and can’t be?—”
She whirls. “I’m his bestie. I don’t need an appointment.” Pivoting back toward the office, she grabs the handle and keeps walking, expecting it to open, but of course, she’s met with resistance and runs face-first into the door. “Ow!”
My smile is not fake at all now. In fact, I’m trying not to laugh.
Putting on my sweetest voice, I say, “Like I said, Mr. Hale is in a meeting and can’t be disturbed.”
Serena rubs her nose with one hand and continues trying to turn the handle with the other. Finally giving up, she turns back around, looking me up and down.
“I need to talk to him, and he’s not answering his cell or his office phone.” She smirks. “I have hispersonaloffice number.” Emphasis onpersonal.
All I can think is, “Good for you, sweetheart. I rode his dick until my knees ached last night.”
“Which he’s unable to answer due to being in an important online meeting,” I say instead, still smiling. “And his cell phone is turned off so he can concentrate on his work.”
She scowls. At least I think she does because her forehead doesn’t wrinkle even a little bit. Turning back to the door, she notices the thumbprint scanner on the frame and presses her thumb against it, huffing with displeasure when the light blinks red. She does it again with the same result.
“If you do that one more time, security will assume there’s a breach and automatically swarm this office,” I warn. I have no idea whetherthat’s true or not, but it sounds good. “They’ll probably call the SWAT team in as well.”
Okay, maybe that last bit was overkill, but it worked, and Serena steps away from the door, tilting her chin up haughtily. “Why didn’t my thumbprint work?”
“Oh,” I say, feigning ignorance, “are you an employee here?”
I can hear the grinding of her teeth. “I already told you, I’m Remington’s bestie.”
“Hmmm, let me check on that,” I say brightly, opening my desk drawer and pretending to read something. “The thumbprint scanner to Mr. Hale’s private office is accessible to, number one, the CEO.” I look up at Serena and smile. “That’s Mr. Hale.”
“I’m aware,” she grinds out.
“Number two, Mr. Hale’s private security guard, Antonio Walsh. And number three, Mr. Hale’s executive assistant.” Tilting my head, I keep my voice so sweet I might need an insulin shot. “That would be me.”
The woman doesnotappear to be pleased. “So you can open the door,” she states.
“Of course I can, but I’m not going to do so until he’s done with his meeting,” I say firmly. “How would you feel if you were in an important meeting regarding a deal worth millions and were constantly being interrupted by people coming in and out of your office?”
I know from what Remi has told me about Serena that she’s never really held down a steady job, despite being in her thirties. Her lips press together until they’re almost white beneath the thick layer of gloss coating them.
“I guess I can understand that,” she says with another snooty lift of her perfectly shaped chin.
“Excellent. If you’d like to wait in our very comfortable seating area, I’ll let you know when he’s done.” My hand sweeps to the soft leather chairs and couches arranged near a window. “There are iPads available for your entertainment. You’re also welcome to get a coffee and pastry from our coffee shop on this floor.”
“I’ll get a coffee,” she mutters, stomping away on her mile-high white heels.
The office is relatively quiet for a few minutes, which is good because I need to release all the steam from my ears after that encounter. What a fucking shrew.
I’m not a jealous person. I believe men and women can be platonic friends, but there was just something so proprietary about the way Serena Greenfield spoke about Remi that rubbed me the wrong way.
My phone rings just as the she-devil in white returns. I offer a polite smile to her as I answer. “Thank you for calling Hale Cosmetics, Remington Hale’s office.”
