Read Online Just One Night. Part 3 by Elle Casey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elle Casey
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face the front of the elevator and the sound of canned music floats around us.
“I thought you two were … dating.” She says, breaking the awkward silence.
My mouth opens, but my brain hasn’t yet figured out what words to use in my response, so I close it. The doors part and I speak quickly so it won’t seem like I’m ignoring her question on purpose. “Oh, no, we’re just … friends.”
Friends? Did I just say we’re friends? I want to laugh at how stupid that sounds. If she only knew. Friends do not throw friends up against the wall and screw them senseless. I’m not sure what that makes us, but it’s definitely not friends.
She’s smiling much bigger. “How nice.” It’s possible she means it this time. For some reason that really bugs me.
She walks out in front of me, cutting me off as I try to exit. I blink a few times to brush off the slight insult, figuring she’s one of those ultra bossy types who doesn’t realize when she’s being rude. William mentioned something about her being interested in him. She sure seems to act like she owns the place. Maybe she means more to him than he let on. It makes me feel a little sick to my stomach. I hope I don’t make a fool out of myself today at this meeting. Is she going to be there too? I drop my gaze to my chest. I have to figure out a way to do up a couple buttons without anyone seeing. I suddenly feel like I look too obvious, like I’m trying to seduce William into working with me.
I follow behind her as she approaches a reception desk. Surprisingly, there’s someone working, even though it’s almost six in the evening. Talk about dedication. Or does this mean William is a hard ass? The sweating has started again. Deodorant, don’t fail me now.
“Is William in?” Ingrid says.
I was about to ask the same thing, but instead I shut my mouth and back up. I’ll just let Miss Bossypants have her turn first. I’m a little too early, anyway.
“Do you have an appointment?” the young girl asks sweetly. I think it’s genuine niceness not saccharine flavoring her voice.
“I don’t need one. Tell him I’m here and I need to see him. Privately.”
“Can I get your name, please?” Some of the sugar is missing this time.
It’s very difficult not to laugh. Ingrid’s acting like she’s all that, but this girl doesn’t even know who she is. And I don’t think it’s because this girl is new. Ingrid’s posture is too ramrod straight for that to be the case. She’s pissed. I decide to leave my buttons alone.
“Ingrid.”
“Just one moment please.”
I find a seat while the receptionist makes her call. Pretending to flip through a magazine, I try not to let Ingrid catch me looking up at her. She’s still standing in the same place, glaring at the receptionist.
My spying routine is interrupted when a redhead comes out through a door separating the waiting area from the offices. “Ms. Moorehouse?”
I stand. “Yes, that’s me.”
“Follow me, please.”
“Excuse me, but I’m waiting for William as well.” Ingrid steps over and blocks my path.
The redhead glares at her. “Ingrid, I believe I mentioned before that in order to see Mr. Stratford, you must have an appointment. You didn’t call to get one, so I’m afraid that he has no time for you right now. He’s busy.”
My mouth forms into a big O as I stare from one woman to the other. I quickly push my lips together when I realize I look like a total nut job. But, man … I am so glad I’m not Ingrid. Boom goes the insult. She sure put Ingrid in her place. And from the look on the redhead’s face, I think she really enjoyed it.
Ingrid’s tone is low and dangerous. “Remind William, please, of our dinner date this evening. I expect to see him at Max’s no later than eight p.m.”
Dinner date? Crap! I knew I should have done up those buttons when I had a chance.
The redhead gives her a courtesy smile. “I’ll be sure to do that.” She holds out a hand in my
“I thought you two were … dating.” She says, breaking the awkward silence.
My mouth opens, but my brain hasn’t yet figured out what words to use in my response, so I close it. The doors part and I speak quickly so it won’t seem like I’m ignoring her question on purpose. “Oh, no, we’re just … friends.”
Friends? Did I just say we’re friends? I want to laugh at how stupid that sounds. If she only knew. Friends do not throw friends up against the wall and screw them senseless. I’m not sure what that makes us, but it’s definitely not friends.
She’s smiling much bigger. “How nice.” It’s possible she means it this time. For some reason that really bugs me.
She walks out in front of me, cutting me off as I try to exit. I blink a few times to brush off the slight insult, figuring she’s one of those ultra bossy types who doesn’t realize when she’s being rude. William mentioned something about her being interested in him. She sure seems to act like she owns the place. Maybe she means more to him than he let on. It makes me feel a little sick to my stomach. I hope I don’t make a fool out of myself today at this meeting. Is she going to be there too? I drop my gaze to my chest. I have to figure out a way to do up a couple buttons without anyone seeing. I suddenly feel like I look too obvious, like I’m trying to seduce William into working with me.
I follow behind her as she approaches a reception desk. Surprisingly, there’s someone working, even though it’s almost six in the evening. Talk about dedication. Or does this mean William is a hard ass? The sweating has started again. Deodorant, don’t fail me now.
“Is William in?” Ingrid says.
I was about to ask the same thing, but instead I shut my mouth and back up. I’ll just let Miss Bossypants have her turn first. I’m a little too early, anyway.
“Do you have an appointment?” the young girl asks sweetly. I think it’s genuine niceness not saccharine flavoring her voice.
“I don’t need one. Tell him I’m here and I need to see him. Privately.”
“Can I get your name, please?” Some of the sugar is missing this time.
It’s very difficult not to laugh. Ingrid’s acting like she’s all that, but this girl doesn’t even know who she is. And I don’t think it’s because this girl is new. Ingrid’s posture is too ramrod straight for that to be the case. She’s pissed. I decide to leave my buttons alone.
“Ingrid.”
“Just one moment please.”
I find a seat while the receptionist makes her call. Pretending to flip through a magazine, I try not to let Ingrid catch me looking up at her. She’s still standing in the same place, glaring at the receptionist.
My spying routine is interrupted when a redhead comes out through a door separating the waiting area from the offices. “Ms. Moorehouse?”
I stand. “Yes, that’s me.”
“Follow me, please.”
“Excuse me, but I’m waiting for William as well.” Ingrid steps over and blocks my path.
The redhead glares at her. “Ingrid, I believe I mentioned before that in order to see Mr. Stratford, you must have an appointment. You didn’t call to get one, so I’m afraid that he has no time for you right now. He’s busy.”
My mouth forms into a big O as I stare from one woman to the other. I quickly push my lips together when I realize I look like a total nut job. But, man … I am so glad I’m not Ingrid. Boom goes the insult. She sure put Ingrid in her place. And from the look on the redhead’s face, I think she really enjoyed it.
Ingrid’s tone is low and dangerous. “Remind William, please, of our dinner date this evening. I expect to see him at Max’s no later than eight p.m.”
Dinner date? Crap! I knew I should have done up those buttons when I had a chance.
The redhead gives her a courtesy smile. “I’ll be sure to do that.” She holds out a hand in my
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