my bedside
table, within arm's reach. As Gabriella's assistant, it hadn't been
out of the realm of possibility to be woken in the middle of the
night for a crisis with a flight or a sudden realization that we
were about to run the same pair of shoes a second time. From what
I'd already gathered, Neil was going to be a different type of
boss.
Or at least, that's what I was thinking right
before my eyes slid closed, about two seconds before my phone
vibrated. My bedside table resonated the buzz like a snare drum,
and I sat up automatically, trained well by two years in
servitude.
It was Neil's work number. I glanced at the
time. Ten forty-five? Why was he still at work at ten forty-five,
when no one else was?
"Hello?" I stifled a yawn as I answered.
"Hello, Sophie. I hope I didn't wake you." It
disturbed me just how much of an effect his voice had on me. It was
like whiskey, deep and comforting, warming my limbs and dizzying my
head.
I was so intoxicated by him, it took me a
second to stammer out, "N- no. I, uh. I was up."
"Good." I heard a noise over the line, an
inhale interrupted by a catch, as though he'd stopped breathing
mid-thought. Then he said, softly, "This would be much simpler if
we could meet in person."
"Oh." I looked down at my lap. My face was
scrubbed free of makeup. My hair was in a messy topknot, and I was
wearing my flannel pajamas with the cartoon coffee cups all over
them.
If Gabriella had summoned me, she wouldn't
have given me more than, "Come, I need you." I would be lucky to
get a location out of her, because she expected me to keep track of
her schedule both in and out of the office. At least I knew where
Neil was calling from.
"Look, it's going to take me a minute to get
down there -"
"No, no, this isn't work related." He was
quick to say it, and then a silence followed in which I swore I
could hear both of our hearts beating like big, nervous butterfly
wings. He cleared his throat. "Would you be terribly put out if
I... stopped by your place?"
If anyone had ever needed a movie montage, it
was me, at that moment. I could leap out of bed, dress myself with
comical franticness, and when I answered the door I would look like
Barbie. "Oh, this old thing?" I would say, spinning in my 1960's
Givenchy inspired dress. "I just threw it on."
He could probably make it to my apartment in
twenty minutes. I would barely have time to brush my teeth and
clear up the dirty dishes and empty Diet Coke cans from the coffee
table.
“That would be fine," I said, weirdly
chipper. I was sure he could hear my fake smile through the
phone.
"I'll need your address, for the driver," he
said apologetically.
"You can't stalk me off the company
database?" I teased.
It fell flat when he turned suddenly serious.
"I would really rather not. That isn’t how I conduct my business or
personal life."
I blurted out our address, already on my feet
and headed to the closet. "Just don't drive too fast. I need to
tidy up."
"This isn't a state visit," he assured me.
"I'll see you soon."
I ended the call and held my phone to my
chest for a fraction of a second before tossing it on my bed and
rifling through my clothes. Nothing fancy, just a black cashmere
v-neck sweater and a pair of comfy jeans. Then I ran to the
bathroom and set a land speed record for teeth brushing. I was just
clearing the living room of some of Holli's recreational
paraphernalia - he was my employer, after all - when the door
buzzed.
"Yes?" I asked over the intercom.
"It's Neil." I buzzed him up then cracked the
door. We're a fourth floor walkup, and the stairs wound down a long
central shaft to the small lobby. The click of the outside latch
echoed up the stairs, and my mouth went dry.
I heard footsteps. I heard his footsteps,
headed to my apartment. Why was I so keyed up by that? I pressed a
hand to the bare expanse of skin above the neckline of my sweater,
and felt the flutter of my pulse there. I pressed my thighs
together, then stopped the
table, within arm's reach. As Gabriella's assistant, it hadn't been
out of the realm of possibility to be woken in the middle of the
night for a crisis with a flight or a sudden realization that we
were about to run the same pair of shoes a second time. From what
I'd already gathered, Neil was going to be a different type of
boss.
Or at least, that's what I was thinking right
before my eyes slid closed, about two seconds before my phone
vibrated. My bedside table resonated the buzz like a snare drum,
and I sat up automatically, trained well by two years in
servitude.
It was Neil's work number. I glanced at the
time. Ten forty-five? Why was he still at work at ten forty-five,
when no one else was?
"Hello?" I stifled a yawn as I answered.
"Hello, Sophie. I hope I didn't wake you." It
disturbed me just how much of an effect his voice had on me. It was
like whiskey, deep and comforting, warming my limbs and dizzying my
head.
I was so intoxicated by him, it took me a
second to stammer out, "N- no. I, uh. I was up."
"Good." I heard a noise over the line, an
inhale interrupted by a catch, as though he'd stopped breathing
mid-thought. Then he said, softly, "This would be much simpler if
we could meet in person."
"Oh." I looked down at my lap. My face was
scrubbed free of makeup. My hair was in a messy topknot, and I was
wearing my flannel pajamas with the cartoon coffee cups all over
them.
If Gabriella had summoned me, she wouldn't
have given me more than, "Come, I need you." I would be lucky to
get a location out of her, because she expected me to keep track of
her schedule both in and out of the office. At least I knew where
Neil was calling from.
"Look, it's going to take me a minute to get
down there -"
"No, no, this isn't work related." He was
quick to say it, and then a silence followed in which I swore I
could hear both of our hearts beating like big, nervous butterfly
wings. He cleared his throat. "Would you be terribly put out if
I... stopped by your place?"
If anyone had ever needed a movie montage, it
was me, at that moment. I could leap out of bed, dress myself with
comical franticness, and when I answered the door I would look like
Barbie. "Oh, this old thing?" I would say, spinning in my 1960's
Givenchy inspired dress. "I just threw it on."
He could probably make it to my apartment in
twenty minutes. I would barely have time to brush my teeth and
clear up the dirty dishes and empty Diet Coke cans from the coffee
table.
“That would be fine," I said, weirdly
chipper. I was sure he could hear my fake smile through the
phone.
"I'll need your address, for the driver," he
said apologetically.
"You can't stalk me off the company
database?" I teased.
It fell flat when he turned suddenly serious.
"I would really rather not. That isn’t how I conduct my business or
personal life."
I blurted out our address, already on my feet
and headed to the closet. "Just don't drive too fast. I need to
tidy up."
"This isn't a state visit," he assured me.
"I'll see you soon."
I ended the call and held my phone to my
chest for a fraction of a second before tossing it on my bed and
rifling through my clothes. Nothing fancy, just a black cashmere
v-neck sweater and a pair of comfy jeans. Then I ran to the
bathroom and set a land speed record for teeth brushing. I was just
clearing the living room of some of Holli's recreational
paraphernalia - he was my employer, after all - when the door
buzzed.
"Yes?" I asked over the intercom.
"It's Neil." I buzzed him up then cracked the
door. We're a fourth floor walkup, and the stairs wound down a long
central shaft to the small lobby. The click of the outside latch
echoed up the stairs, and my mouth went dry.
I heard footsteps. I heard his footsteps,
headed to my apartment. Why was I so keyed up by that? I pressed a
hand to the bare expanse of skin above the neckline of my sweater,
and felt the flutter of my pulse there. I pressed my thighs
together, then stopped the
Similar Books
