Officemate

by Katie Ashley

  I am seriously delusional. I smell like a rat’s ass, yet I am thinking pervy thoughts about Isabel. But therein lay the problem—nothing seemed to divert my attention from wanting her, not even vomit and diarrhea. Moron. “Yeah, I’ll have the doctor come by later if I’m not better.”

  “I’ll text you when I leave to let you know how it goes.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  “Take care, Thorn.”

  “Okay. Bye, Isabel.”

  “Bye.”

  In a state of shock at Isabel’s compassion, I kept the phone cradled against my ear. While I’d initially been attracted to her beauty, I couldn’t discount how attractive her sympathetic side was. She was the ultimate package of brains, beauty, and a beautiful heart and soul.

  With a groan, I lamented the tragedy of her not being a total bitch who was devoid of all feeling and empathy. I’d known so many women who were ice queens wrapped up in a pretty package. If only that were the case with Isabel.

  Chapter Twelve: Thorn

  The day after my gastrointestinal melee at Delmonico’s, I found myself at the conference table with Isabel where we were finalizing the documents for the Halliwell project. After passing out that night at nine, I’d woken up the next morning to a victory text from her saying we’d won him over. Yes, she was kind enough to say “we” when the truth was she had done it. From what I was told through the grapevine, she completely charmed the pants off Halliwell and his investors. Whenever it looked like things might be going south, her tenacity persevered to save the deal from crashing and burning, not to mention she had gone above and beyond to assure Halliwell of how sick I was and how committed to this account I was. In the end, she’d saved my ass twice, which was saying a hell of a lot considering how I’d treated her over the last few months. She could have hung my ass out to dry while winning Halliwell for herself, but for some reason, she hadn’t.

  In the end, it didn’t surprise me one bit that she’d managed to save the day. Isabel was more than qualified to wine and dine clients. Hell, she was infinitely more qualified than I was. Her Southern charm coupled with a natural head for business made her a superstar. I had no doubt she was going to rise to the highest ranks at the Callahan Corporation.

  After her initial concern, I’d fully expected her to gloat about sealing the deal, but she remained uncharacteristically humble about the whole matter. Who knows what she said about it behind my back, but to my face, she appeared almost sympathetic about what had happened.

  Her concern for my welfare continued the next day when she brought both hot tea and ginger ale. She even went to get me chicken noodle soup for lunch. It was quite shocking considering how it normally infuriated her to have to bring me anything. Who would have thought a stomach ailment would reveal Isabel’s softer side?

  As I gazed across the table at her, I couldn’t help wondering what other secrets she possessed. Even though we’d been working together in rather close quarters the last few weeks, I still knew so little about her—well, except for what I’d Googled one night on a whim. All of her professional accolades were there, from where she’d attended college to her impressive resume. From the company directory, I knew she owned an apartment not far from the office, which, based on the location, I imagined had set her back a pretty penny.

  I was more interested in the personal side, though. Like me, she didn’t have a Facebook or Instagram I could snoop on, but I did find a few pictures on her friend’s Instagram. Apparently, Isabel caught a Broadway show from time to time, but considering this was New York, that didn’t automatically flag her as a theater geek. Since she appeared to live at the office, I couldn’t imagine she had a very active social life. That wasn’t saying anything negative on her part. From what I’d heard, sacrificing your friends and family seemed to be the curse of the first ten years in investment banking for those who wanted to get ahead in the business.

  While her accent was a dead giveaway that she wasn’t an East Coast native, I knew little more than she’d grown up in a small town north of Atlanta, and I’d only unearthed that detail based on her resume in the company profile. It came as no surprise to me that she’d been valedictorian and racked up countless scholarships. I had been slightly shocked to find she was a former beauty pageant queen, though. Nothing about Isabel screamed big hair, fake tans, and poofy dresses, yet there it was in photographs from the local newspaper. She’d been just as beautiful back then, although there was an innocence about her she no longer possessed, and I don’t mean a sexual one. It was more like the world hadn’t had a chance to chew her up and spit her out yet.

  When she glanced up and saw me staring at her, her brows furrowed questioningly. “What?”

  “Nothing. I was just wondering if you were almost finished.”

  “No. It’s going to be a long night.”

  I twisted my wrist around to glance at my watch. “Shit, I’ve got to be at the helipad in thirty minutes to catch a flight to D.C.”

  Isabel’s brows furrowed. “Are you bringing Halliwell to the office to pick up the files?”

  “No, I have a previous engagement this evening.”

  Her blue eyes narrowed into steely slits. “And you’re just going to leave me to finish everything while you flit off?”

  “For the record, I’m not flitting anywhere. As far as leaving you to finish everything, I will be taking my share with me to work on during the flight.”

  Unable to hide her curiosity, she asked, “You’re going out of town?”

  “Yes. I’m going to D.C. then catching a helicopter ride over to Camp David.”

  Isabel’s eyes bulged. “You’re going to the Camp David tonight?”

  I chuckled. “I wasn’t aware there was another one.”

  She shook her head. “There isn’t. I was just…surprised.” Impressed was what she wanted to say, but she wouldn’t allow herself to utter those words in regard to me.

  When her expression revealed she was hungry for more information, I said, “Dad asked Barrett and me to come to dinner. He’s entertaining—”

  “The Canadian prime minister and the president of Mexico.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Tilting my head, I added, “I didn’t know you were such a fan of my father’s.”

  “I watch the news and read the paper.”

  “So you’re not a fan?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am. I even voted for him.”

  “That’s good to know. I know he appreciates your support.”

  “Will you be helping to broker new deals between the North American superpowers?”

  With a laugh, I replied, “No, I won’t have that privilege. It’s just an informal dinner. They’ll save the important talks for tomorrow, which I won’t be privy to.” I shrugged. “I guess the whole point is for me to get paraded around as a war hero.”

  Isabel’s expression saddened at my words, and it took a moment to register in my mind that I’d actually said them. I shook my head. I didn’t actually believe that…did I? I certainly didn’t think it about Dad, but was it something I thought his aides might’ve thought up? Both Dad’s and my service was something his campaign had constantly capitalized on during the election.

  Since I didn’t appreciate the look of pity Isabel was giving me, I rose out of my chair and then began shuffling my files together. “Anyway, I need to get going. I’ll bring these back by the office tomorrow on my way home.”

  “That’s fine, but don’t expect me to be here waiting on them.”

  “Really? I thought you lived here.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Contrary to popular belief, I actually do have a life outside the office. While I might not to be flying off to Camp David for an important diplomatic dinner, I still know how to cut loose.”

  I fought the urge to question her about exactly how she cut loose, desperately interested in finding out more about what made her tick. It was almost as hard imagining her in a club as it was to imagine myself there. At the
thought of her bumping and grinding on the dance floor, my thoughts immediately went south. I imagined her cutting loose with me on my desk, on the couch, against the door, and upon every other surface possible. It was getting a bit ridiculous. Why the fuck can’t I get her out of my head?

  Instead of pressing her for more information, I slid my mask back on. “Thank you for that information, Ms. Flannery. I will definitely sleep better tonight knowing that.”

  Isabel’s expression darkened at my smartass remark. “Good night, Mr. Callahan,” she muttered before burying her head back in her laptop.

  “Good night to you too, Ms. Flannery,” I replied before heading out the door.

  After making the trip down to D.C., Ty and I met up with Barrett and Addison on the White House lawn. We then boarded Marine Two to make the trek to the northern woods of Maryland where Camp David was located. A self-proclaimed history nerd, Addison practically bounced in the seat in front of me with excitement. While I did a little work on the Halliwell files, she rattled on about the historical significance of Camp David. “Did you know that the Hickory Lodge has a bowling alley, movie theater, and restaurant?”

  “No, I didn’t, babe,” Barrett replied.

  “Maybe we can catch a late movie after dinner?” she suggested.

  Wagging his brows, Barrett replied, “I was thinking more of some midnight skinny dipping.”

  Addison rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Barrett, it’s March.”

  “The pool is heated,” he countered.

  “Yeah, I still think I’ll pass.”

  “But it’s one more public place to cross off our list.”

  With a groan, I covered my eyes. “There’s not enough bleach in the world to get that mental image out of my mind.” While Barrett chuckled, Addison shrieked in horror. Leaning forward in my seat, I said, “In your defense, that comment was directed at thinking of Barrett naked.”

  She grinned at me over her shoulder. “I can see why.”

  “You just wish you looked as fantastic naked as I do,” Barrett joked good-naturedly.

  “I’m pretty sure I do.”

  “Keep dreaming, bro.”

  With a chuckle, I turned my attention back to the files and spent the rest of the journey working. When we landed, I shuffled my paperwork back into my briefcase. As I climbed down out of the helicopter, I saluted the Marine at the bottom of the stairs.

  Compared to the elaborate trappings of the White House, Camp David had a much more rustic feel. It consisted of three main buildings. The Aspen Lodge was the fancy name for the president’s cabin, and it was where Barrett, Addison, and I would be staying for the evening. The prime minister of Canada and the president of Mexico would be staying in their own cabins on the expansive two hundred acres.

  Once we got inside, Mom’s social secretary (not the one Ty had banged) showed us to our rooms. Then it was time to get changed for dinner. Just as I was finishing up, a knock came at my door. “Yes?”

  Ty poked his head in. “Your father would like to see you before dinner.”

  Inwardly, I groaned. I might’ve been thirty-one, but any time I heard the words Your father would like to see you, I instantly felt like a teenager who was about to get his balls handed to him. After I checked my appearance in the mirror one last time, I headed out of the bedroom and down the hall.

  Once I knocked on the door, Dad called out for me to come in. When I entered, he stood in the center of the bedroom with his valet sliding on the jacket of his tux. At the sight of me, he gave me his usual beaming smile. “Hello, Thorn.”

  Returning his smile, I replied, “Hello, yourself.” I motioned to the man checking over Dad’s tux. “This is new. I feel like I’ve stumbled into an episode of Downton Abbey.”

  Dad laughed. “This is Dwight. He’s been around since the inauguration.”

  Now that I thought about it, I remembered the guy’s face from the White House. Presidential valets were more personal assistants these days rather than just the guys who straightened ties. “Nice to meet you,” I said as I extended my hand.

  With a smile, Dwight shook it. “101st Airborne, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “I was a Ranger.”

  I returned his smile. “Then it’s really nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise.” Dwight then nodded at my dad. “Looks like you’re all set. I’ll go check on how dinner is progressing.”

  “Thank you.”

  Once Dwight left, I threw an anxious gaze at my father. “I understand you wanted to see me.”

  Dad motioned to the two high-backed chairs in the corner of the bedroom. “Let’s have a seat.”

  I made a tsking noise as I sat down. “This can’t be good.”

  “When is it not good for me to talk with my firstborn?”

  “Come on, Dad. We’re in formal wear at Camp David—I think we’re past the point of pretending this is just an everyday chat.”

  “Fine then, I won’t beat around the bush any longer. I understand you’ve been having some difficulties in your new position.”

  I sighed. “Seriously? What asshole thought it was necessary to burden you about my work performance? Last time I checked, you had a lot on your plate being the leader of the free world.”

  “It wasn’t burdening me, son. I was the instigator. They were merely answering my request for information.”

  My breath hitched. “So you were checking up on me?”

  “Of course I was. I wanted to know how you were settling in.”

  “Then why didn’t you ask me directly?” As hard as I tried, I couldn’t avoid my accusatory tone. It was one thing to be a grown man and have your father checking up on you; it was another thing completely to be a man who had led a unit into combat and now was having his abilities questioned.

  Dad sighed. “I wanted to get an unbiased response.”

  Throwing up my hands, I swept out of my seat. “You couldn’t do that by picking up the phone and talking to me?”

  “I didn’t think you would set out to lie to me, Thorn.”

  “It sure as hell sounds like it.”

  “I know what a perfectionist you are. If things weren’t going smoothly, you would feel you were letting me down by telling me the truth.”

  Of course, he had a point there. I jerked a hand through my hair. “Let me guess—you’ve heard about my lackluster performance.”

  “Lackluster seems to give the impression that you haven’t been trying.” When I cocked my head at Dad, he replied, “I’ve heard you have struggled in your new role.”

  I winced hearing the words from his lips. After swallowing hard, I croaked, “Yes, I have faced difficulties getting acclimated to my new position.”

  Dad rose out of his chair to stand in front of me. “Thorn, it doesn’t matter to me how well you’re doing because I know you’re trying your best. You have always given one hundred and ten percent of yourself. When you and Barrett were younger, I never had to worry about you fulfilling your potential like I did him. I know you will rise to the challenges.”

  I couldn’t help being touched by Dad’s words. He always knew just what to say to pull you out of the abyss. I supposed it was one reason he’d been elected president—people saw his empathy and compassion were truly genuine. At the same time, guilt flooded me with the realization that I hadn’t been trying my best. I’d been giving my half-assed best.

  After stuffing my hands in the pockets of my pants, I sighed. “While I appreciate your unwavering belief in me, I’m not entirely deserving of it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Some of the issues I’ve experienced have been a direct result of my apathy toward the job.” After sucking in a harsh breath, I told Dad about what had happened with Gregson and the infamous cocks.

  “Hearing you admit to that makes me even more concerned for your emotional well-being than I previously was.”

  There it was, the statement coupled with the fear in his eyes—he
was worried about the PTSD I might be experiencing. When I’d first landed stateside, he’d wanted me to see a therapist, which I refused even though it was a recommendation I gave to my men and women upon returning home. “Is this a plug for me to see a shrink again?”

  “I’m also concerned for you physically as well. I understand you became ill during a client meeting.”

  Rolling my eyes, I said, “It was just some stomach bug, one of those twenty-four hour things.”

  “You had to excuse yourself from the meeting, and you were so sick that Ty had to help you to the car,” Dad countered.

  “I also shit my pants—did he leave out that little tidbit?”

  The corners of Dad’s lips quirked as he fought to not smile. “As a matter of fact, he did.”

  Great. I had just unnecessarily divulged something mortifying. “I’m not proud to admit it, but yes, I did shit my pants.”

  Dad chuckled. “That must’ve been a hell of a stomach bug.”

  With the atmosphere lightening between us, I couldn’t help laughing as well. “It was. I haven’t been that sick since I ate what turned out to be a rancid kebab on my first tour of Iraq.”

  “I’ve been there before myself. It’s one reason I’m so careful about what I eat at state and informal dinners. The last thing I need is to pull a George Bush Sr. and puke all over everyone.”

  “No, that would not be good,” I said as I laughed.

  As our amusement faded, Dad gave me a pointed look. “I’m always here for you, son. Even though you’re a grown man and a decorated officer, I’m still here for you.”

  I smiled. “I know, and I appreciate it—even if I don’t act like I do.”

  “The Callahan Corporation is filled with capable, giving people. Don’t be afraid to reach out to them for help.”

  “Is this about Isabel?”

  Dad’s brows furrowed. “Who is Isabel?”

  “Isabel Flannery. Murray was grooming her to take the vice president position I was given. She’s supposed to be helping me transition.”