by Cathy Pegau
“Not at the moment,” she said, dismissing me. “Thank you.”
I nodded and headed back toward to my desk as Craig began pouring coffee. When I reached the doorway, Talbot called me. “Olivia.”
I turned around, expecting a last-minute order for a snack or for them to not be disturbed.
Talbot held her coffee cup in both hands, just below her chin. She lifted the cup a little, indicating the contents. “Yours?”
“Yes.”
She smiled. “It’s good. Make sure you get reimbursed out of the expense account.”
Unexpected warmth bloomed in my chest. I smiled back at her and nodded. She liked my coffee. For some reason, the recognition made me feel almost giddy. It wasn’t blinding sexual enrapture, but it was a start.
By the next week, anyone requesting a meeting with Talbot or, in the case of the higher-ups requesting her to come see them, had to go through me. If Talbot noticed the comm was much more active or that her meeting reminders were coming from my SI, she never said anything. Was this part of her little trial? If I’d been content to be the human answering service, would she have booted me?
I’d barely gotten my coat off Monday morning when the comm started trilling. I let the now repaired auto-answer pick up while I dealt with more important callers.
“And may I ask what this in reference to, Miss Pritchard?” I asked after determining the engineer wanted to meet with the boss. I brought up Talbot’s schedule on the SI.
On the other half of the split screen, Pritchard scowled at me. She knew as well as I did Talbot would want to know the reason for the meeting beforehand. I was hoping she’d say it was about the filtering system, but I wasn’t that lucky. “The shareholders presentation in a few weeks. I need to speak to her about the data sets she wants for the report.”
“Miss Talbot’s schedule is tight, but she’s available for a short meeting on Thursday afternoon.” I scanned into the following week; Pritchard would scream if I even suggested she wait that long.
“Can’t you get me in any sooner?”
I wanted to say, “If I could, don’t you think I would, you idiot?” but didn’t because I needed to stay on the job. Instead, tsking with regret, I said, “I’m afraid not, Miss Pritchard. With the CEO and VP of Marketing from VemCo in town, Miss Talbot has back-to-back meetings through Thursday morning.”
I hadn’t learned about the three-day meet and greet going on this week with one of Exeter’s largest buyers until late Friday afternoon. Frantic, I’d spent a good portion of the end of the day arranging and rearranging this week’s schedule. Some of Exeter’s lower-level management were surprised when I’d commed to shuffle their meetings with Talbot, but they accepted the changes with little argument. Hey, I was a VP’s right-hand girl, wasn’t I?
I’d also stocked up on the good coffee and had pastries being delivered to the conference room across the hall—behind the unmarked door—each morning they’d meet this week. Even as a number cruncher for Alpha-Omega, I knew people were much easier to deal with if you kept food within reach.
“Fine,” Pritchard huffed. “But I want at least an hour.”
“Absolutely, Miss Pritchard, and thank you so much for your patience.” I hit the “End Call” icon to disconnect us.
As much as Pritchard and half the other suits annoyed me, it paid to be nice to them. Sure, it made me look like a kiss-ass, but that’s what worked with these people. I had no choice but to play their game. Besides, my suspicions that Pritchard was involved with the K-73 cover-up meant I needed to stay on her good side.
Talbot emerged from her office, her brow wrinkled in concentration as she tapped her handheld. “Conference room ready, Olivia?” she asked, striding to the door without looking at me.
“Coffee’s being made, and the jelly bouncers are on their way.”
She stopped as if she hit a wall, and her head snapped around toward me. Her green eyes burned into mine.
Sweat broke out at my hairline and I felt my face flush. I guess now was not the time to joke about serving cheap kid food. I gave her a sheepish smile, hoping she wouldn’t rip my head off. “Actually, an assortment of pastries from Bridgemont’s,” I said, naming one of the upscale shops in midtown. Their baklava was to die for. However Nevarro bees made honey, it was unlike anything I’d ever had. “It’ll be here soon.”
Talbot’s eyes lost a little of their laser-beam intensity; her shoulders relaxed a micron. “Good.” She started toward the door again. “I’ll be in and out all day. Take messages for anything you can’t answer. I do not want to be interrupted while VemCo is here, understand?”
“Yes, Miss Talbot.”
“And make it eight for dinner at Humberto’s tonight instead of six. A couple of the VemCo people brought their spouses.”
My heart stuttered as my eyes jumped to her schedule. A dinner meeting? At Humberto’s? It wasn’t on today’s schedule. Or tomorrow’s. Or the next day’s. Shit! “Um.”
Talbot half turned toward me, one hand on the doorknob and one slender eyebrow cocked. “Is there a problem?”
“No,” I said, hoping the quiver in my voice was covered by my false confidence. “I have it right here. Dinner at Humberto’s at nineteen-thirty.”
That last bit was a half-wild guess. I’d noticed other dinner meetings at that time and prayed Talbot hadn’t gone off her normal practice.
Sweat trickled down my neck as she stared at me. She gave a quick nod and said, “Bring the coffee in when it’s ready.”
“Yes, Miss Talbot,” I said as the door shut behind her. I punched up contact information for Humberto’s Restaurant before the sound of the latch clicking died away.
Their comm was audio only, which was good because I didn’t want the person on the other end to see how anxious I was. “Double damn the void,” I muttered, waiting for them to pick up. “How the hell did—”
“Humberto’s, may I help you?”
“Yes, I need to confirm a dinner reservation for tonight. Nineteen-thirty for eight people under the name Talbot of Exeter Mining.”
“Just a minute, please,” said the man on the other end. There was a faint tapping sound as he checked, but it was taking too long. I felt my heart drop into my stomach. “I’m sorry, miss, but there is no reservation for tonight under that name or for anyone for Exeter.”
Shit, shit, shit!
I took a deep breath. No reason to lose it yet. “Can I make a reservation for tonight?”
“Hmmm.” More tapping. “I don’t see anything available right now.” He sounded almost apologetic. Almost.
Nothing available? On a Monday night? I wanted to beat this guy with his SI and tell him he was making a mistake. Screwing this up would end my days at Exeter. And then the Greys would end my days, period.
Okay, Liv, take a breath.
Cool control percolated through the haze of panic rising in my brain as I blew out a silent ten-count. If I could point a pulser at a bank teller and demand money, I could do this. The mental directive to stay calm kept my voice pleasant. “Listen, um—I’m sorry, what’s your name?”
“Diego.”
“Listen, Diego, I realize this is somewhat short notice, but I need that reservation for tonight.” Thankful for not having the comm on visual, I hoped I sounded less desperate than I felt. I wiped sweat off my brow.
More tapping. “I don’t know, miss, it looks like we have another party coming in just about the time you want.”
Bastard. Fine. I’d play along.
“I understand, Diego. Would one hundred creds help shuffle those folks to a later time?” Might as well cut to the chase.
“Two hundred.”
“One-fifty,” I countered.
More tapping. “Done. I’ll send you my account digits. It’s on deposit only, and I get immediate notification when the transaction is complete.”
A man who knew his business. I was starting to like this guy. A request to access a link to a local bank popped up on my screen, and I chu
ckled into the comm.
“I’ll get it right over to you,” I said. “And Diego, if Miss Talbot and her guests have a particularly pleasant time under your care, I’m sure an extra fifty or so can be added to this…gratuity.”
He laughed quietly. “I’ll see to it, Miss…?”
“Baines. Miss Talbot’s assistant.”
“A pleasure doing business with you, Miss Baines. Be sure to ask for me personally when you wish to dine at Humberto’s in the future.”
“I’ll certainly do that, Diego.”
We disconnected, and I transferred the necessary credits from the expense account to Diego’s. It was petty cash to a company like Exeter, but to folks like Diego and me, a few extra creds was nice to have. Though Diego probably did this kind of thing several times a week. Maybe I should go into restaurant reservations for my next career.
After I got the coffee to the conference room and made sure the suits were happily situated, I returned to my desk to wade through the calendar’s backup system. Talbot had been sure of the reservations at Humberto’s, so someone had dropped the ball and forgot to make them. Or had cancelled them. Being the paranoid felon I was, I opted for the latter.
An earlier version of Talbot’s meeting schedule was encoded on the net. Yep, there it was. Dinner at Humberto’s for tonight. But it hadn’t been on my copy. Unfortunately, I couldn’t decipher who’d cancelled the engagement and erased the note.
Someone wanted me or Talbot to look very bad. If the reservations had fallen through while Talbot and the VemCo folks were standing in the restaurant, she would have been embarrassed beyond words. Even if it wasn’t my fault the initial arrangements hadn’t been made, I would have taken the brunt of her fury. Saving Talbot’s neck saved my own.
I put my money on the redhead; she seemed particularly hungry to me. Until the job was done, I’d be more suspicious of information I received from her. From anyone, for that matter.
God, I hated the working world sometimes.
The following morning, I’d been at the office for over an hour before Talbot came in. Her unusually late start gave me time to make sure all was on track to avoid another screw-up. So far, things were fine.
She looked as impeccable as ever in her chocolate-brown suit, but there were faint smudges of grey under her eyes. Apparently the VemCo people liked to stay up late.
“Coffee, please, Olivia,” she muttered as she unlocked her office door.
I went into the kitchenette to fix the boss her usual cup—light on the cream, no sweetener. I sorted through the first aid box and placed a couple of medtabs on the saucer.
“Thanks,” she said when I set it on her desk. She downed the tabs with a swallow of coffee.
“Mr. Clemens moved the lab tour up to ten,” I said with more than a little sympathy in my voice. Talbot did not look ready to trundle through the lab in less than an hour.
She nodded. “That’s fine.” We both knew it wasn’t, but neither of us would mention it. “Have Pritchard tell the techs to be seen and not heard, or it’s her ass.”
“Already done.”
She held my gaze, and I couldn’t look away when she moistened her lips. My stomach fluttered. Even hung over, she was gorgeous, and the physical reaction I had toward her was undeniable. But I couldn’t get swept up in it myself. Rule Number One was Rule Number One for a reason. Clenching one hand into a fist, I dug my nails into my palm. The small shot of pain cleared my head. It’s a job, Liv.
“Good.” She turned her attention to her SI screen.
Dismissed, I released a slow breath and started toward the door.
“Oh, Olivia.” I turned around. Her head was cocked in query. “What happened with Humberto’s yesterday?”
Shit! Had there been a problem with the reservation after all I went through with Diego? I’d kill him. Send Chaz to beat the one hundred and fifty credits out of him. Chaz would do it, too, just for fun.
Despite my racing heart, I kept my features neutral. “Was there a problem?”
“No,” she replied. “We had a fabulous meal and the staff was extraordinarily accommodating.” She leaned back in her chair, lacing her fingers together on the desk. “In fact, the only ‘problem’ wasn’t a problem at all. I’d requested a private dining room, and we were given a better one at no extra cost due to some reservation…mix-up.” A small smile curved her mouth. “Thank you.”
Relief eased tension from my shoulders. I wanted to go down to Humberto’s and kiss Diego. Maybe I’d add a little more than the extra fifty to his account.
“Making things run smoothly is part of my job,” I said.
Her gaze traveled over me, assessing me as she had when I’d first arrived. I stood very still, hoping she liked what she saw, ignoring the renewed fluttering in my stomach.
Our eyes met, and she said, “Once the VemCo people are gone, I could use a hand with a couple of projects I have in the works. Are you up for a challenge, Olivia?”
I smiled. “Whatever you need, I’m your girl.”
Chapter Ten
After the VemCo people left Thursday morning, I helped Talbot play catch-up on the routine tasks she’d set aside. I was amazed at how much she did during a normal work day—approving new research projects, discussing fiscal viability of newly developed technology, general overseeing of the R and D department’s productivity—and at how much her regular admin would have taken on. How much I now had to take on. For the last two days I’d eaten lunch and a late snack at my desk then dragged my sorry, chair-flattened ass home well after 2100.
Thank goodness the weekend was upon us. But Talbot had given me three data sticks of information to familiarize myself with and a promise that the next week was going to be just as hectic because of the shareholders meeting coming up.
Oh boy.
Trudging in from the PubTrans station, most of the people I passed on the way into my building were headed out for a good time, if I read their laughter and overall jocularity correctly. I just wanted to go to bed. Alone. Hopefully Tonio had dinner keeping warm, but if not, I’d go to bed hungry. I was too tired to wait for take-away, or even an Insta-Heat bowl of soup.
A group of six exited the first elevator that answered my button pushing. I waited for them to spill out then entered the empty car. Their chatter echoed through the lobby until the doors shut, leaving me in blissful silence. On the way up to my floor I willed columns of productivity numbers and pages of techno-jargon out of my brain. Eyes closed, I leaned in a back corner, my head resting on the wall, and let the gentle vibration massage my temple.
The elevator slowed then stopped. I heard the doors slide open but couldn’t open my eyes or move my aching feet. If I was like this after two days of late nights, what condition would I be in by the end of next week?
“Gonna stay there all night, Liv?”
Willem.
My eyes flew open, and I straightened. He loomed in front of the elevator doorway, blocking my path.
“Just a little tired tonight.” I wiped my clammy hands on my coat as surreptitiously as I could.
He held the edge of the door to keep it open. “Got anything new for me?”
He’d asked that every night since I started working for Talbot. You’d think he’d trust me to inform him of any changes. I hated micromanagers.
“Not since her meeting with the other two execs.”
Willem’s lips thinned in frustration.
I shrugged. “What can I tell you? Except for this past week, when the VemCo people were here, she’s barely left her office for more than an hour and locks the door when she does.”
“That should have been plenty of time, Liv.” His tone was icy. I didn’t blame him for being unhappy, but this couldn’t be rushed either.
“Between Exeter’s SI security and not knowing when Talbot will be gone long enough,” I said, reining in my own frustration, “it’s hard to get to her desk unit. If she catches me there now, when I can’t justify it, we’re done.”
“What about after she’s gone for the day?”
“She doesn’t want me at the office after hours.” I pushed away from the elevator wall. “I’ll get it, Willem, don’t worry.”
He didn’t move aside until I was just about to run into him. As I passed, he took hold of my upper arm. Not forcefully, not painfully, but I stopped midstep and stared at him. A shimmer of fear ran up my back, followed closely by anger.
“I do worry, Liv.” His voice was as soft as his eyes were cold and hard. “I need those files before the CMA or another company gets wind of them.”
I jerked out of his grasp. “I know what you need.” A good kick in the crotch. “I’m working on it. If anything changes, I’ll let you know.”
Our eyes held for a few moments. Then Willem grinned like I’d either passed some kind of test or had just signed my own death sentence. Hard to say. He eased past me to enter the elevator.
Shoulders squared and back stiff, I strode down the hall. As the doors of the elevator closed, I could have sworn I heard him chuckle. It was not a pleasant sound.
Shaking off the encounter, I was never happier to see my apartment door. I waved the key card over the lock, turned the lever when it clicked and kicked off my shoes as I entered.
“Tonio, I’m home,” I called out.
How normal that sounded. But how normal was it for a woman to be roommates with her ex-husband so they could pull off a blackmailing job? Probably not so much.
I breathed in the heady aroma of something spicy and delicious, and my mouth started to water. I’d go to bed alone but not hungry.
I shut the door, dropped my satchel beside my shoes and hung up my coat. “Sorry I’m late. What’s for dinner? It smells wonderful.”
As I headed toward the kitchen, Tonio came through the archway holding a food-laden plate in one hand and a full glass of deep red wine in the other. The grin on my face made my cheeks hurt. What a great guy. Why had we divorced? Then I saw the look on his face. His smile was tight with too many teeth showing.
Uh-oh. Tonio had gotten that look two steps into a bank on Rafikki the first and last time we’d used an inside man on a job. He’d grabbed my arm and we calmly, if quickly, turned around and left. Later, he said he felt something had been off and ranted for two days about trusting “civilians.”
