Текст книги "ARROGANT PLAYBOY"

Автор книги: Winter Renshaw

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Текущая страница: 33 (всего у книги 43 страниц)

TEN

DANE

“Right this way, Mr. Townsend. He’s been asking about you.”

I follow a middle-aged nurse in Winnie the Pooh scrubs down a sterile hallway. At least there are no flickering lights or shit-stained carpets. We never would’ve put him in a place like that.

“Are you sure?” I ask. “Last time, he didn’t know who I was.”

Where the fuck is Beck? Beckham should be here. I shouldn’t be doing this alone.

“He’s had a few lucid moments today,” she says gently. “He’s on a high dose of morphine right now.”

She raps on the door to a dark room. It feels much later than six o’clock in here. The drapes are pulled, and the T.V. is on, but there’s no sound. Guess it doesn’t matter how much you shell out for a nursing facility, all the money in the world can’t get rid of that sick, depressing veil that saturates all who dare to enter here.

“Uncle Leo.” I have a seat in the chair next to his half-elevated bed. His brows twist when he hears my voice, and he turns his face toward me. It takes all the strength that man has just to open his eyes halfway.

I place my hand over his, careful to avoid his I.V. lines.

“How are you feeling today?” I ask.

“Dane.” There’s a dry scratch in his voice, and my name mostly comes out in a puff of air.

Fuck me. This is hard. I’m calling Beckham and chewing his ass the second I leave here.

And then I realize he said my name. He remembers me. He’s acknowledging me. It’s the first time in months.

“Yes, Uncle Leo. That’s right. I’m Dane.”

“Where ya been?” He sputters. His eyes are wider this time. Brighter than ever. He licks his dry, cracked lips and then curls them into a mischievous smile. I see a little bit of a younger version of him inside there.

I know he’s teasing, and I force myself to smile. It’s much easier to smile right now than to think about the fact that this seventy-year-old beautiful bastard’s days are numbered.

“Where’s your brother?” His brows straighten.

“He was supposed to fly in this afternoon.” I shrug. “I bet he’ll be here tomorrow at the latest. He wants to see you.”

“Tell him to give his cock a rest for a change.” Uncle Leo laughs, which turns into a coughing fit. He knows damn well about Beckham’s reputation as a ladies’ man, after all he learned from the best. “Man thinks he’s a Goddamn sheik.”

“Well, he did change his last name to King...”

“Sorry to interrupt,” an orderly in a white outfit comes in with a paper cup and a glass of water. “It’s time for your meds, Leo.”

It’s crazy to watch a man I once idolized lying feeble and dying in a small ten by ten room at a hospice center.

Fuck pancreatic cancer.

The doctor called us yesterday, told us Uncle Leo doesn’t have more than a week left.

I wait for the orderly to leave before scooting closer. I’ll be here all damn night. I’m not leaving for anyone or anything. The light in his eyes is flickering, and I’d give anything to hear one of his stories one last time before he goes.

“Hey, Daney-boy, can you hit that button for me.” His grip loosens from a button connected to his morphine drip. “Give me some of the good stuff, will ya?”

I press the button for him, knowing it’s only a matter of time before he forgets who I am again.

ELEVEN

BELLAMY

I count thirty-five black cars passing until one slows down and veers off the exit ramp toward the rest stop.

There he is, my knight in shining armor riding up on his big black steed.

Actually, it’s more like a miniature pony, since it’s an economy car. He just thinks it’s fancy since it has remote start and a sunroof.

But I digress.

I peel myself up off the park bench at the last possible moment and angle my hand over my eyes, squinting into the passenger seat of his car to see who my father sent to tag along with him for supervisory reasons.

Oh shoot.

He’s alone.

There’s no way my father would’ve sent him alone. Does he know what happens when you ride in cars with boys? Does he know what happens when you put your twenty-two-year-old daughter alone with a crazy Cortland McGregor?

He hops out and rushes up to me, slipping his arms around me like we didn’t just see each other last night. He grabs the flesh of my backside, roughing me up and pulling me into him as he tries to kiss me. I twist my head, letting him have my cheek.

“What the hell? What’s your problem? Got your panties all twisted just because your car broke down?” Cortland leans in for another kiss.

Hope he likes the way Dane’s cock tastes.

I let him kiss me this time because I’m afraid of what he’ll do if I don’t.

It’s funny how Dane can tie me up, rough me up, and have his way with me, and it doesn’t scare me a bit. But the way Cortland touches me, like he’s entitled to touch me, terrifies me through and through.

I wonder what Dane would do if I texted him right now?

“You smell different,” Cortland says.

That would be the new perfume I got from my soon-to-be lover...

Five fragrances for all kinds of different occasions, though he did say he enjoyed what I already wear.

“There are a lot of women in the office,” I say. “Lots of smells. They all mix. You’re probably smelling that.”

“No, it’s like cologne or something?” He wrinkles his nose and then checks his watch. “Why are you late today?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t you get off at five? You didn’t call your dad until around six, so you were, like, going to be a half-hour late coming home.”

“Are you serious right now, Cortland?”

“Oh, come on. I’m asking for safety reasons.”

Safety reasons my ass.

“I like to know where you are, you know, in case something happens.” He places his hand on my back and walks me to the passenger door of his car like he’s suddenly some noble gentleman. “I worry about you, Bellamy. That’s all.”

More like you worry about losing control over me.

I wait for him to climb in and start his car up before asking my burning question. “How did you convince my father to let you come by yourself?”

Cortland lifts an eyebrow. “He trusts me.”

“All of a sudden he trusts you to be alone with me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He shifts into reverse and backs out. “Told you your father would love me.”

I fasten my seatbelt and lean against the cool glass to my right. If I could get any further away from him, I would. I’d sooner ride on top of the hood of the car than spend the next several miles sitting next to this asshole.

His hand flies over, landing on my knee before creeping under my skirt and trailing up my inner thigh. My knees instinctively smash together in defense, but he pulls my leg toward him.

“Don’t fight it. Don’t act like you’re all prude now. I know better,” he says, his fingers tracing the outside of my panties. “Damn, you’re wet. I knew it!”

My heart pounds harder and stronger in my chest. I’m convinced he’s two seconds from accusing me of being with another man.

It’s all going to end. It’ll all be for nothing.

“I still have it, Bellamy,” he boasts. “I can still get you wetter than sin. I knew you missed me.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. Not only is he an asshole, but he’s also impossibly dense. Although I suppose, once again, this would be a situation where the truth would be stranger than fiction. No one I know would believe me if I told them I’m two days in on my new job, and I spent the morning trying on lingerie and exchanging oral sex with my incredibly handsome, amazingly well-endowed, curiously powerful, and obnoxiously arrogant boss.

Cortland merges into traffic, and I reach for my purse on the floorboard, pretending to fish around. I grab my phone and type off a quick text to Dane.

I’M WET FOR YOU RIGHT NOW.

I combat the grin that wants to claim my lips. He’s going to love that text. What man wouldn’t? He should know that even when I’m not with him, he still has the power to liquefy my desire.

I keep my purse in my lap, hoping that if it vibrates I’ll feel it.

“If we had a few minutes to spare, I’d pull over and hop in the back with you,” Cortland says. “Old times’ sake.”

“It’ll be much more special if we just hold off on everything until our wedding night.” Yeah, our wedding that is never going to happen. Not while I have any ounce of fight left in me.

“I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

“I don’t know that you have a choice.” I almost add that he’ll have to take that up with my father, but I don’t want to give him any ideas.

My phone doesn’t vibrate at all over the next twenty miles. I thought for sure he would love hearing that. After all, he said his goal is to keep me thinking about him sexually all the time, even when he’s not around.

Cortland pulls into my driveway, and I hate not seeing my car parked out front. I’m trapped now more than ever. And how the hell am I going to get to work in the morning?

“I need a phone, Dad,” I say as I climb out of the car. Dad is pulling dead flowers from the landscaping out front with Summer. They’re both glazed in a thin coating of dirt and sweat.  “I barely had enough money for a payphone, and what if I wouldn’t have been close to a rest stop? Someone could’ve pulled over and kidnapped me.”

Dramatic always works well with him.

“Either I need a cell phone or a reliable car,” I add. The either/or thing always worked on my younger brothers and sisters, so I may as well try it with him. You don’t ask yes or no questions, you give two options, and then they end up picking one.

Dad drags his forearm across his brow, pursing his lips together. “Yeah, okay. You can have a phone. But just while you’re commuting to the city.”

Was it really just that easy?

“Uncle James is going to tow the Chrysler to your uncle’s shop,” Cortland says.

“How am I going to get to work tomorrow?” Burning panic rises in my throat, but I force it out of my voice. They can’t know how important it is that I never miss a single day of work. “Can I borrow Kath’s car?”

“No, no,” Summer says. “Kath’s doing school drop offs all week, and I’m going to be restocking shelves at the pharmacy.”

“What about Mom’s car?” I ask.

Summer scoffs. We both know what that means. Mom doesn’t let anyone drive her car at all, no matter what. And not even Dad argues with her. It’s the only brand new car she’s ever had in her forty-odd years, and the only car Dad’s ever let her hand select. She loves that thing more than she loves us.

“I can take you,” Cortland offers.

I look to my dad, hoping against hope he says no. Then again, why would he if he allowed Cortland to come pick me up tonight?

“How will I get home? See, this is why I need to drive myself.”

“Bellamy, calm down,” Summer chuckles, walking up to me and hooking her dirt-stained hand on my shoulder. Does she not know I have to wear this to work? “We’ll get this figured out. I know it’s your first week, but geez Louise. Woosah.”

I hate when she says that, then again, most of her expressions grate on my nerves.

“Cortland can take you until your car gets fixed,” Dad says, wiping his hands on a rag sticking out of his jeans pocket. His watchful stare darts between our faces as if he’s trying to instill a silent warning. “I’ll send Waverly or one of your mothers to pick you up.”

Great. I’m sure Dane finds nothing sexier than a twenty-two-year-old in high heels and on all fours all day long getting picked up by her kid sister.

“I better head out,” Cortland says. “Told my dad I’d grab some things from the store on the way home. I’ll see you in the morning, Bellamy. What time do you need picked up?”

My jaw unclenches just enough for me to tell him seven. “And please don’t be late.”

TWELVE

DANE

Where the hell is he?

I jerk my watch out from under my sleeve and cross my arms as I glance down from my office. A steady stream of morning traffic passes by, none of them stopping outside the building. Knowing my brother, he’s arriving in a chauffeured import because that’s the way they do it in New York. I suppose we each house our own brand of arrogance from our respective posts in the world.

Last night, I slipped out of the hospice center after Uncle Leo had passed out and saw a text from Bellamy. Any other night I would’ve been rather pleased by such a declaration, but not last night. I’m not quite sure I’m in the mood to play around today either. She’s going to have it pretty easy today as I’m not exactly in a teaching mood.

I squint against the dirty glass and make a mental note to have housekeeping touch up my windows. This is completely unacceptable, and I want Bellamy to have something clean to cling to when I eventually fuck her against it.

A black car pulls up to the front of the building, and a leggy blonde climbs out. I recognize her instantly.

I know what belongs to me when I see it.

A man climbs out of the passenger side and runs up behind her, reaching for her arm.

“No fucking way.” I watch through a red fog, processing everything in slow motion and balling up my fist when I see him lunge for her arm and spin her toward him.

I storm from my office and head to the elevator, passing Harlow on the way. Harlow is rarely on time for work, which serves as a reminder for me to note the time once more. It’s four past eight. Not only did some strange man drive Bellamy to work, but she’s late.

The doors ding and part and Bellamy steps off, clutching her chest when I startle her.

“Dane. You scared me.” She clutches a coffee in her left hand. Since when is she a coffee drinker? “Were you waiting for me?”

“I was.”

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she gushes. “I have an explanation.”

“Do you now?”

“Yes…” she cocks her head to the side, not understanding the seriousness and implications of this situation.

“Come to my office.” I take big strides until we burst through the double doors I left open in my hasty attempt to beat her to the elevator.

“Is…everything okay?”

“Does it look like everything’s okay, Bellamy?”

She sets her coffee down on my desk, and a small splash of it spills from the lid to the wood.

“Clean that up,” I say, handing her a tissue.

She wipes it down and throws the tissue away. “I’m confused.”

“As am I.”

“Is this about the text last night? Is that considered speaking out of turn? Maybe I shouldn’t have sent it. You didn’t respond, so I wasn’t sure…”

“Stop talking, Bellamy.” I place a hand in the air to silence her nonsense. “Who is the man that dropped you off this morning?”

Her expression freezes as her lips part just so. “Were you watching me?”

“Answer the question.”

“He’s a family friend. My car broke down on my way home last night. It had to be towed, and it’s in the shop. I needed a ride to work this morning, and he offered.”

“Why did he chase after you?”

“Because I almost forgot my coffee.”

I take a moment, pulling in a deep breath because fuck do I need it. She almost had me reliving my days with Jenessa, and that wouldn’t have been good for either of us. My fingertips point together, forming an arrow pointed at her, and as soon as I’m ready to speak again I say, “You call me, Bellamy. If you need something, anything, you call me. You are my responsibility.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” she said. “Next time, I’ll know to call you. I’m sorry. Believe me when I tell you, you have nothing to worry about with my friend.”

“Do you think I’m jealous?”

Her jaw hangs. “I-I just assumed. I mean, why else would you care who takes me to work?”

“Jealousy implies what we have here…is romantic.”

“I know it’s not romantic.”

“It also implies I’m insecure, which I find extremely insulting.”

“I know you’re not insecure, and I would never suggest that.”

She’s damn lucky I’m letting her speak to me as Bellamy and not as my sub. I would never allow a submissive to talk back to me and get away scot-free with it.

“Just so we’re clear,” I say, as my phone rings. “We are exclusive. I have purchased your exclusivity at a very fair price. I am your Dom. You are my sub. That is all we are and all we’ll ever be. And you are not to associate with any other men, in any way, while you are under contract with me.”

Her eyes blink rapidly.

Fuck.

I know what this means.

She nods and smiles through teary eyes before turning and walking out. I resist the urge to correct her behavior since now is clearly not the time, and I would never scold a sub for crying. Before I can call after her, my phone rings.

“Yes, Marlene.” I shouldn’t be annoyed at her for doing her job, but damn her timing.

“Your brother’s here, shall I send him back?”

“He actually checked in this time?”

“I told him you were…indisposed.” Marlene knows not to bother me when I’m dealing with a hybrid employee.

“I’m available now. Send him back.”

Waiting by the mini bar for my brother, I pick up a crystal tumbler and contemplate pouring us a couple of drinks. It’s way too early, barely past breakfast time, but I need a drink in the worst way.

“Hey, asshole.” I turn to see my younger brother, Beckham standing there wearing his signature smug smile.

“You’re late.” I sit the tumbler back down. “As always.”

“Lighten up,” he scoffs, trudging across the room with his hands shoved in the pockets of his linen pants.

“Just get back from Turks and Caicos?” I eye his casual get-up. “Or are you on your way there?”

“One of us needs to take a vacation once in a while.”

“You get enough rest and relaxation for the both of us.”

“Who was the pretty blonde walking out of your office in tears a minute ago?” Beckham has a twinkle in his eye.

“Hands off.”

“Oh, is she one of your…what do you call it? Submissives?” He waves his hands in the air in a flamboyant fashion.

“Only simple minds poke fun at things they don’t understand.” I take a seat at my desk and pull up my email. My brother’s only been here five minutes, and already I’m ready for him to leave. “When are you going to see Uncle Leo?”

It’s more of a command than a question.

“Today,” Beck says, popping down into a guest chair. He rests an elbow on the arm and leans against his hand, gazing out the window. I know he’s not ready. He’s been keeping a safe distance this entire time Uncle Leo’s been sick, and we both knew this day would come. Beck’s not equipped to deal with emotional anything, then again, neither am I, but I never excused myself from being by our uncle’s side when he needed me most.

Beckham smacks the arms of the chair and stands.

“You going now?” My fingers stop typing against my keyboard, and I turn to watch him head out.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll be back later. Odessa’s around here somewhere. If you see a sassy redhead wandering the halls, she’s with me.”

“Ah. You decided to make it official with her?”

Beckham cracks a smile and points his finger at me. “Don’t.”

The second my brother leaves, I head to Bellamy’s office. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so intense with her this morning, but I said what I said, and there’s no taking it back. I’m not above apologizing, and it isn’t my intention to make her sulk the rest of the day.

I rap on her door but receive no answer, so I show myself in.

She’s gone.

THIRTEEN

BELLAMY

“Excuse me, are you crying in there?”

I dab my eyes and stare at the space beneath the stall door to see a pair of peacock blue pumps. I’m not sure if it’s Harlow or Brenna or Caitlin, but I’m not about to let them see me like this.

I hold my breath, hoping that will force the heaving to stop, but it only makes it worse.

“Hello?” The girl knocks on my stall door. “I hear you in there. Open up.”

I don’t want to deal with the mean girls, and I don’t want them to ask what happened. To be honest, I don’t know what happened. There’s no reason for me to be in a toilet stall crying my eyes out like the homecoming king just dumped me on football Friday night.

“I’m Odessa,” the girl says.

So it’s not Harlow, Brenna or Caitlin?

“You going to come out?” The toes of her blue heels lean forward like she’s standing on her tiptoes. “I’m really tall, and I can see over the door, so you better come out. Okay, I’m not that tall. Never mind.”

I dab my eyes once more with the generous, four-ply toilet paper Townsend Towers keeps stocked in the bathrooms, and unlock the door.

“Thank you, yes, there you are.” Odessa stands with her hands on her hips and a relaxed posture, and immediately I can tell she’s the kind of girl who’s not afraid to take on the world. A blanket of shiny auburn hair frames a creamy, flawless complexion and her dark green eyes are framed with the longest lashes I’ve ever seen. “Got a name?”

“Bellamy. Do you work here?” I thought I’d met everyone, but maybe not?

Her lips pinch. “Sort of. I work for Townsend Energy Holdings but not here. I’m out of the New York office.”

When I inhale the air cools my lungs and almost makes me forget I’d just been crying. “Oh, do you work with Beckham?”

“You know Beckham?” She says his name with an eye roll and a bitten smile. “Or do you, like, know Beckham.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

Odessa bats her hand. “Forget I said anything.”

I step past her and wash my hands at the sink before taking a cool, wet paper towel and patting it against my warm cheeks. Walking back to my desk is going to be difficult, especially knowing I have to pass the reception desk where the other girls hang out.

“You’re crying over a guy, right?” Odessa stares at my reflection in the mirror.

“Maybe.”

“He’s not worth it, whoever he is. They never are.”

“I know.”

“If you know that, then why’d you let one get you all worked up?”

“It wasn’t really him; it was mostly the way he spoke to me. It was hurtful, and he wasn’t supposed to hurt me. At least he said he wouldn’t.”

She rolls her eyes again. “That’s what they all say, and you know what? They’re all a bunch of fucking liars. Pardon my French.”

I suppose she’s right.

“You want to get coffee or something? Are there any good coffee places around here that don’t have a green mermaid as a logo?” Odessa points to the door.

Dane would be livid if I just walked out of here without saying anything. “I don’t know. I should get back to my desk. My boss is probably wondering where I am. I’ve been in here a while.”

“Who do you report to?”

“Dane.”

Odessa grins wide. “Oh, I’ve got this. You’re going with me. I’ll deal with him if he gives you any shit.”

Somehow I don’t think that’s how it works with him.

She takes my arm and drags me out of the restroom and toward the elevator.

“I don’t have my purse,” I object.

“Good thing I have a company credit card.”

***

“How long have you been working here?” Odessa pulls out a chair at a table next to the front window of a small coffee shop. “I don’t remember seeing an email about you?”

“This is my first week.” I sit down and take a sip of my hazelnut latte. It’s my second one today though I hardly touched my first one. Cortland made us stop and get coffee together on the drive in this morning. He thought it’d be cute, and he ignored me when I pleaded with him since we were running late. “I’m his concierge.”

Odessa sits her cup down and squares her shoulders, the corners of her mouth curling a moment later. “You’re shitting me.”

I shake my head, looking from side to side. “No.”

“I mean, I’d heard rumors that he did that, but I didn’t know it was really a thing.”

Shit.

The non-disclosure agreement. I should’ve memorized the damn thing because I’m pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to disclose that I’m on the payroll for sexual favors.

My hand claps over my mouth. “Odessa, please don’t tell anyone what I just told you.”

“Were you crying over Dane?”

My chin dips, and I glance out the window.

“Please, tell me you weren’t crying over Dane.”

“He’s intense,” I say. “We have an agreement, and I’m just not sure I’m what he needs, and I need this job.”

“You’re exactly his type.” She angles herself in her chair, and her tone is flat. “Blonde. Blue eyes. Pretty. An innocent ingénue ready to be shown the world…”

“I didn’t know he had a type.” Do I have a type? I guess if I did, he’d be like Dane, but nicer. A little less arrogant and a little more transparent. Someone I could get to know on a deeper level and without being on all fours.

“Why do you need this job so bad? There are millions of other jobs out there. Don’t work for someone who treats you like crap. You’ve got to have more respect for yourself.”

“It’s complicated.” I lift my Styrofoam cup and swirl it around to gauge how much is left. “Again, just please don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Anyone I might tell probably already knows.” She shrugs and takes another sip, her eyes following a striking man in a gray Macintosh jacket and wayfarer sunglasses who walks by and smiles at her.

“Who would you tell?”

“Well, Beckham,” she says. “We tell each other everything.”

“Are you and Beckham together?”

Odessa’s mouth drops and she lets out a robust laugh that causes the couple at the table across from us to stare. “Absolutely not. And please don’t ever ask me that again.”

Her laugh suggests I’ve just assumed the most outlandish thing in the world.

“Been there. Done that. Got the t-shirt.” She pulls her small clutch from her lap and yanks out her phone. “Speak of the devil.”

I try not to watch as she feverishly types back a response to Beckham’s text.

“I guess we have to head back,” she says. “I have to go with Beck to see his uncle in hospice.”

“Oh?”

“That’s why we’re here,” she says, standing up and tilting her cup back to get the last drop. After she tosses it in a nearby trashcan, she whips out a tin of Rosebud Salve and coats her lips before popping in a stick of gum. “Want one?”

“Sure.”

“So Dane didn’t tell you about Uncle Leo?”

“No.”

“I’m shocked. The man practically raised them, well, since they were teenagers.”

We leave the coffee shop and head back. I’m dying to ask more questions about Dane because silly me had only ever assumed someone as put-together and driven as Dane had been raised in some perfect family unit with two kids, a dog, and a picket fence.

“I wish you could’ve met Uncle Leo in his better days,” Odessa says with a wistful gleam in her emerald eyes.

“Is there anything I should do for Dane?” I ask. “Anything to help him cope with this?”

Her lips purse as her blue heels click on the cement sidewalk. “I doubt it. If he hasn’t mentioned anything to you yet, he probably doesn’t want to talk about it. The doctors say it’s going to be any day now. If Dane’s a little more on edge than usual, that might be why.”

He’s always on edge. I’m not sure I’d be able to tell the difference at this point.

“I see,” I say as we trek into the lobby and approach the elevator.

When we hit our floor, we walk side by side past the reception desk where the gaggle of gossiping girls stand. I’m not sure how or why Dane tolerates that, but it never seems like they’re working. Odessa shoots them a glare, and they all glance away like they share a brain. She’s a deflector, that woman.

“You ready?” A dark haired man in a casual linen suit rounds the corner and hooks his arm into Odessa’s, but she immediately retracts as if she knows he’s doing it to annoy her. Must be Beckham because he looks almost like a cut-and-paste version of Dane, only with a bit more playfulness in his stormy eyes. “Where’d you go?”

“Coffee,” she says, nodding at me. “And it was on you, so…thanks.”

“My pleasure,” Beckham teases, one eyebrow arched. He wears the same dimples, dark hair, and hollowed jaw as his brother.

“It was great meeting you, Bellamy,” Odessa places her hand across the side of my arm. “I’m not sure how long we’ll be around this week, but I’m sure I’ll run into you again.”

I duck past them and head into my office, waking up my computer to check my email. Not that I usually have any. I’ve yet to do any real, actual work in this place. My heart jumps into my throat when I see an email from HR asking me to head down to her office as soon as I get a chance.

This is it.

I’ve approached the end of the road.

I just want to forget this ever happened and move on.

Thank goodness my tears are all dried out. I stiffen my wobbly legs and rise up, pulling my shoulders back. I’m going to march in there, take it like a grown woman and spend the rest of the day in the city because I don’t have a car to get home, and my ride isn’t coming until five.

“Hey, Laurie,” I say a few minutes later, popping my head into her office.

She pulls her glasses off and sets them down, reaching across her desk for a stack of paperwork.

“Have a seat,” she says.

My heart thuds hard and deep, but I force a smile. I’ve been raised to grin and bear things, and this situation would be no exception.

She places a form in front of me and hands me a pen. “You forgot to sign your background check authorization.”

“Oh.” A shaky laugh settles in my throat as I grab the pen and sign my name on the line. “Is that all?”

“That is all.” She slips the form from in front of me and places it in a nearby stacker tray. “Carry on.”