Page 25 of Leverage & Obedience
I kept the anklet on because the thought of taking it off hurt too much, and apparently, I’m not the kind of woman who can do the simple thing. I’m not ready to look at what any of this means. Not when my time at the company is ticking down and my boxes are still packed, ready for wherever I move next.
He didn’t text on Sunday, and I’m annoyed about it. I also didn’t text. Both can be true.
“Morning, Lily.” Rachel appears at my cubicle with a grin. “You look cute today.”
“I look like I got three hours of sleep. Which is accurate.”
“Hot date?”
My fingers freeze on the keyboard for half a second. “Netflix and bad decisions.” I pull my work email. “How was your weekend?”
Rachel launches into a story about her sister’s engagement brunch. I laugh in the right places and ask the right questions. The performance is so smooth I almost buy it myself.
She’s still telling me the story when Bren gets to the office and walks past us. He’s in the navy suit that I’ve decided is myfavorite. He also looks well rested, which makes me hate him just a little.
He says, “Good morning, Lily. Rachel,” in the voice he uses for everyone. And then he slows just long enough for his eyes to find mine.
I’ve been working on my poker face since I left his condo. He sees through it in two seconds, and his eyes narrow. But Rachel is here, and he can’t say anything. He continues past us and into his office.
“Did he look annoyed?” Rachel asks, and something in her tone makes me give her a sharp glance. She’s grinning again, but I can’t read what it means.
“I don’t know,” I murmur as a flush runs up my neck. Please god, don’t let her suspect anything.
She shrugs, “Oh well, I’d better get to it.”
I slump down when she leaves. Ugh. My thighs have been pressed together since the navy suit walked past my cubicle. My body is voting yes on things my brain hasn’t authorized.
He doesn’t intercom me all morning, but every time he comes out of the office, his eyes find me. I catch him at it twice before10. At 11, he pauses in the break-room doorway, staring at me a beat too long before going back to his office.
Is he playing chicken with me and waiting for me to come to him? Why is this so hot? At the rate this weird game is making me wet, my panties are going to need to be incinerated by lunch.
I’m grumbling to myself about one of us having to be an adult when my desk phone rings. Frank owns a manufacturing company we hold the bad debt on. Normally, he’s all buttoned-up Southern manners: ma’am this, pleasure-to-speak-with-you that. Today, the words run into each other.
“Lily, I need Mr. Harrison. Right now. I got a notice that one of my properties is being scheduled for auction, and that is not what we agreed to. I have a private buyer coming in two weeks, and if I lose that property, I lose the buyer and I lose the company—“
Frank is terrified and trying to hide it because scared men get worse deals, and Frank knows it.
Bren is in a closed-door meeting with Kevin, so I can’t put Frank through. Which leaves me to handle this.
“Frank. I’m going to fix this. Stay with me.”
I pull up his file. The auction notice turns out to be a routine filing, sent out automatically weeks before anything actually happens. The second I see that, I know what to do.
“That notice doesn’t mean a decision’s been made. It’s procedure. Give me sixty seconds, and I’ll tell you exactly when Bren can call you back and exactly what your buyer needs ready before then.”
Frank exhales loudly. “Thank you.”
It takes me forty seconds to scan the loan terms and find a callback window on Bren’s calendar. I walk Frank through what I can and assure him that Bren will help him with the rest. By the time we hang up, he’s calling me ma’am again.
“How long was that call?” Bren asks from over my shoulder.
I give a peep of surprise and almost jump out of my seat. He’s leaning against my cubicle wall and sipping from a mug of coffee.
A quick glance at the screen on my phone gives me the answer. “Eleven minutes.”
“How long have I been standing here?”
Um, why doesn’t he tell me?
