I Broke Into His Office (Love at First Crime Book 4)

by Jessica Frances

  “Sasha!” he snaps, barely able to make eye contact.

  I glance at Teagan, trying to figure out what is happening here, but she’s just watching me carefully.

  Is this a test?

  “What?” Sasha shrugs at me before turning to Conner again. “Conner, this is Nix. He is another incredibly hot, smart, funny, single friend of mine.”

  I grip the bar towel in my hand a little tighter. Would it be wrong to slap her with it?

  Is she seriously playing matchmaker?

  “Sasha, I met you a few days ago. I’m not sure you know me well enough to say any of that,” I point out, no longer even striving for being nice.

  “Well, we can all see you’re hot. You run a restaurant, so you must be smart. I probably overstated the funny thing, but I do find your grouchy behavior amusing. And I believe both you and Harvey have been adamant that you’re a client of his, so unless you have another man in the wings, then I’m assuming you are single.”

  I am actually speechless.

  “You begged me to have lunch with you. You guilted me into a catch up, and all so you can throw me at some guy?” Conner hisses at Sasha, who looks unperturbed by his anger.

  “No, I’m not throwing you at anyone. I’ve done my introductions, and that is where this ends.” She turns to look me in the eye. “Scarlett and Cynthia were texting all yesterday and all morning. I want more information on her. Is she solid? Can I trust her to treat my friend well?”

  Great, from one uncomfortable chat to another.

  I glance again at Teagan, feeling unnerved that she hasn’t spoken a word yet.

  Why do I get the feeling she’s annoyed with me?

  “I know Scarlett at work. We don’t hang out outside of work. I don’t know her well enough to answer that,” I finally tell Sasha.

  “Come on,” Sasha needles. “You must know some things. Past relationships? For how long has she been single? Does she bat for both sides or just the one?”

  “You know, I’m her boss and a lot of that is inappropriate for me to discuss, even if I did know the answers. Don’t you have a boyfriend who does this type of investigating for a living?” I feel a moment of guilt for suggesting such a thing. Then I think about how Scarlett does deserve a little payback for what she did yesterday. Maybe having Sasha stick Declan on her is karma.

  “Yes, but Cynthia made us promise not to look into any of her future possible dates. We did that a couple times. It’s hard to forget what you find out about someone’s past, so it sort of sours our opinion, and then we obviously have to tell Cynthia because we can’t let our friend go in blind, and then that ruins things for her,” Sasha explains.

  “Not that this means we haven’t looked into you,” Teagan speaks up.

  I’m not sure how to take her words. I don’t have anything worth digging up, except a crazy father who they all have firsthand knowledge of.

  Why do I get the feeling she’s trying to trip me up? Trying to make me nervous?

  What is her angle?

  Does she not like me anymore? She was sending me messages of encouragement. Did Harvey say something to her this morning to change her opinion of me?

  We did cuddle last night, but nothing more happened. Then he was gone by the time I awoke.

  Still, did I do something wrong?

  “Sounds like you should just butt out and let things play out with Cynthia and Scarlett,” I say to Sasha, choosing to ignore Teagan’s comment.

  “Cynthia is sweet, sensitive, and too kind for her own good. She will get walked all over if we don’t butt in. She’s had a rough few years, and I just want her to be happy, and be sure Scarlett will do that for her.”

  I appreciate that Sasha is being a good friend, but does she even live in the real world?

  People are assholes. People are out for themselves. People hurt others as easily as they draw their next breath. There is no fool-proof protection from those people.

  “There are no guarantees in life,” I tell her.

  “Okay, how about, if you tell me what I want, I’ll guarantee some juicy information about Harvey,” she barters.

  I roll my eyes at her obvious bait.

  I care for Harvey more than I should, I want him more than I ever wanted anyone else, but I’m not stupid. Harvey is more private than a C.I.A. operative. There is no way Sasha has anything juicy on him.

  “I don’t care about whatever you know,” I retort.

  “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking Harvey and I aren’t close. And you’re right. But he’s close to Teagan here. They’re best friends,” she informs me.

  “I’m not revealing Harvey’s secrets!” she gasps, glaring at Sasha.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but … are we here to eat, or am I just supposed to look pretty in the corner and starve?” Conner asks, not gaining Teagan or Sasha’s attention.

  “You don’t have to reveal anything that would get you guys fighting,” Sasha reasons with Teagan. “Just some past dating experiences, or something he’s talked to you about Nix here.”

  “No, I won’t. I thought you wanted to come here to get to know Nix better. I didn’t know you planned on using me. Harvey is my best friend; I won’t betray his trust.”

  Sasha groans, glancing at me like she expects me to be right with her in her annoyance.

  I find myself grateful that Harvey has a friend like Teagan, even if I’m dying to know what secrets she does know.

  “Fine. I can’t bribe you with juicy gossip, but I can guarantee to give him a kick in the ass when it comes to you,” she bargains with instead.

  “Sasha,” I snap, finally getting fed up with this. Am I going to have to deal with this every day now? Is this what my lunch shift is becoming? “I think the moral of the story with Cynthia and Scarlett is that you should butt out. The same thing applies to Harvey and me.”

  “So, there is a Harvey and you?” she pushes, a grin on her lips.

  I glare daggers at her.

  “He has a point,” Conner agrees, and I warm up to him instantly.

  “You can at least tell me if Scarlett is a bitch,” Sasha grumbles, suddenly realizing she’s outnumbered here.

  I roll my eyes. “Scarlett is not a bitch, and there will be no purposely hurting your friend. She never does anything she doesn’t want to do. So, since she agreed to go out with Cynthia, and if she’s texting her nonstop, then it’s because she wants to.”

  Sasha smiles at me then, and I feel a sense of ease that she’s satisfied and I didn’t even have to betray anyone’s trust.

  “Is it okay if we grab a table?”

  “Go for it. Someone will be with you shortly.”

  Sasha and Conner grab a table by the window while Teagan hangs back.

  I’m not sure what to expect, so I brace myself and imagine the worst.

  “I’m still not sure about you, but I love Harvey. He’s important to me, and at the moment, I think you’re good for him. As soon as I think otherwise, your father won’t have anything on what I will do to you. Got it?” Her voice is low, but her threat is loud and clear.

  I don’t know Teagan well at all, but I already sense honesty is always going to win out with her. And her opinion obviously matters to Harvey, so I put aside any bullshit and go straight for the truth.

  “I like Harvey. He’s gotten under my skin. I can’t promise not to hurt him. All I can do right now is try to stay above water and do whatever I need to do to keep my father from hurting him.”

  She stares at me a moment longer. Then she seems to accept what I said because she finally gives me a small nod before sliding off the stool and moving to join Conner and Sasha.

  For the next forty minutes, I have peace while I busily make everyone’s drinks. Winter is kickass for alcohol since everyone is looking for something to keep them a little warmer. Our markup on the drinks is killer. Easy money.

  Forty minutes later and after Teagan has left, Sasha is waving me over like I’m her servant. I almos
t consider ignoring her, except I don’t think that will deter her in the slightest.

  Best I get it over with.

  As I leave the bar, I survey the still occupied tables to see no one looks to be in need of a drink anytime soon.

  “What can I do for you?” I reluctantly ask once I get to her, positive this isn’t going to be anything good.

  “That meal was fantastic. I need to memorialize it,” she tells me like this should make any sense. “Conner has over ninety-thousand follows on his Instagram page. If he were to put up a post about how fantastic it is here, I bet you’ll see a few extra people making their way in.”

  I narrow my eyes at her, not understanding her angle. If she didn’t have one, she wouldn’t feel the need to tell me this. She would just do it.

  “That’s great,” I mutter.

  “There is a condition, though.” Her smile appears sweet, yet I see the devious look in her eyes.

  “Of course.” I cross my arms, waiting to hear what I have to do to get this offer. I’m sure there is more than just one string attached.

  “You have to be in the photo.”

  I wait for her to say more. This sounds too easy. Then my mind catches on the word photo.

  “What photo?”

  “Conner took photos of his meal, of us together, and now we want one with the owner. It will be good publicity,” she points out.

  “I’m not exactly very photogenic at the moment.” I wave my hand over face. The bruises are getting better, but they are still visible.

  “It looks way better. And honestly, it gives you an edge.”

  What does she mean it looks way better? As in my face looks better beaten up than healed?

  “I’m not sure this—”

  “Ninety thousand potential Chicago followers, Nix. Come on!” Sasha squeals.

  I purse my lips so I don’t let anything slip while I think this over. In the end, I just shake my head and give in. This is clearly going to happen no matter what, and I don’t have time to stand around and argue.

  “Fine, let’s get this over with.”

  I crouch down by Conner and smile for the phone camera as Sasha takes the photo then shakes her head and says we need to stand. So we do, with the bar for the backdrop. Once she straightens my hair to her liking and removes my apron that I forgot I had on, she takes over a dozen photos until she seems satisfied.

  “Thanks for that,” Conner tells me, giving me a surprise hug then holding out his hand for me to shake. “And I’m really sorry,” he says once I have taken his hand.

  “I should probably be thanking you. Good publicity is always welcome. I barely know Sasha, but I do know there is clearly no controlling her. She does what she wants, and everyone else has little control,” I tell him, wondering how impolite it would be to remove my hand from his grip when he doesn’t appear interested in letting go.

  This has gone on longer than is socially acceptable, right?

  “I know,” he says with a grimace. “I still feel like I’ve been part of this. In fact, I sort of am now.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, trying to pull my hand back.

  “We were friends in college, Sasha and I,” he explains, “and then we drifted. I moved away, and we didn’t talk much for a few years. I moved back recently, and she’s now one of my best friends.”

  “Okay …?” I don’t know why he is telling me this.

  He leans in close and lowers his voice like he doesn’t want anyone to overhear the next part. I find myself leaning in, too.

  “And she has these killer heels I love. We share shoe size, and she promised them to me if I got you as close as possible to me for as long as I could. Extra points for touching,” he admits.

  I jolt back and glance over to see Sasha has continued snapping photos of us.

  “What the hell is this, Sasha?” I rip my hand out of Conner’s grip, taking a few steps back for good measure.

  “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m just making sure I have some good ones for the post.”

  I narrow my eyes at her, but she avoids eye contact as she asks the passing waitress for her check, and then they are out of my restaurant within two minutes of Conner’s confession.

  I feel dread spreading over whatever scheme Sasha has cooking. Instead of worrying over it, though, I focus on the rest of the lunch shift, feeling thankful when the place begins winding down.

  Fifteen minutes before we close, Sasha sends me a link to the post Conner put up. I hesitate to open it, but curiosity wins and I click on the link.

  What I find is an enthusiastic post about the great service, food, and atmosphere. Plus, there is a note about me being gracious enough to have my photo taken with Conner. The photos attached are four pictures pieced together. One is taken outside, showing off the front of the restaurant. One is of the meal he ate, which looks perfectly placed—I will have to pass on the great feedback to the chefs. The final two are of Conner and me. One where I am crouched next to him at the table, and another of us shaking hands. They all look innocent.

  I feel a sigh of relief that it wasn’t some scheme to do with Harvey.

  I glance at the comments, seeing many who agree with the post, and many who mention they plan to try us out soon.

  It looks like it was a positive thing, so why does Sasha seem so conniving? I could have sworn she was up to no good.

  Maybe I’m getting too cynical. Then again, since Harvey is currently storming into the restaurant, scaring the last few customers heading out the door, maybe I’m just the right amount of cynical.

  “Harvey,” I greet, eyeing him carefully, trying to figure out what situation I now find myself in.

  His hair is windswept, his scowl permanently attached, and he looks agitated to say the least.

  This has Sasha written all over it.

  He has yet to say anything to me, just storming his way right up to me.

  I turn toward the remaining staff members who are wiping down tables and grabbing loose plates and glasses. “Leave them. You can leave early.”

  Without a squeak of argument, they all file down the hall to the staff room to grab their things. Then I watch them all scurry out, noting that the chefs all finished up cleaning a few minutes ago.

  I’m glad it’s Scarlett’s day off. She wouldn’t have left without either making a comment or hiding herself away so she can spy on us.

  The next food order I need to process is in my office. I still need to do a stock check of the booze to place an order for that, too. And I just volunteered myself to clean up. The last thing I need is whatever fight Harvey looks ready for, but I bite my lip and wait for the door to close on the last staff member.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask hesitantly, moving around to take the left behind cloth and continue wiping down a table.

  “Yeah, peachy,” he growls out, sounding anything but okay. “I noticed you met one of Sasha’s friends today.”

  “Oh.” He has Instagram? “Yeah, Conner.”

  Harvey nods.

  I’m not sure why he is bringing this up. I mean, I can guess, but I want him to say it. I’m not going to make this easier on him since he appears to already have made assumptions.

  “Look, I don’t know how …” He gulps, moving his hair away from his eyes. “I …” He seems to be struggling to say whatever the hell he wants to say. He wraps a hand around the back of his neck before his stormy gaze catches mine. “I don’t do this shit.”

  “What shit?” I ask, straightening my back from wiping the table to catch his eyes.

  “Relationship shit,” he spits out like he’s worried he could catch it.

  “I don’t get what you’re saying.”

  “I know I have no claim on you, no right to say anything, but …” He begins pacing now, running his hands though his hair. I’m jealous he has free reign over it. What would it be like to rub my hands through his hair whenever I wanted?

  “Nix, are you paying attention?” he growls.r />
  I have to blink several times to focus.

  “Sorry. What were you saying?” I ask, leaning over the next table to wipe it clean before piling a couple plates and glasses from the table in the corner.

  I think it’s sweet when Harvey stacks four plates from a table and follows me into the kitchen where I dump them.

  “You’re not making this easy on me,” he grumbles, watching me ditch the leftover food then pile the dishes into the industrial dishwasher.

  “Sorry.” I shrug, moving past him and back out into the dining area. “I’m not even sure what this is about.”

  “What happened with that guy today?” Harvey finally spits out, making me pause when I detect some jealousy and uncertainty.

  This is new, but what does it mean for him? Is he realizing he wants more?

  “What do you mean?”

  Harvey sighs before moving over to a table with a couple glasses on them. “Sasha sent me photos of you both. You looked cozy.” The last word is said with complete disdain.

  I want to roll my eyes. There, some verification. This was Sasha’s scheme all along. She wanted to torture Harvey with the possibility of Conner and me.

  “Did we?” I bite my tongue to stop myself from putting him out of his misery, mainly because I want to see where this goes.

  He made it clear that I’m a client, even if he hasn’t once acted like it. We fucking spooned in bed last night. He’s delusional if he’s trying to tell himself that what we are doing is professional and that no lines are being crossed.

  If I allowed myself to consider the possibility of more, then he can catch up.

  “Nix!” he snaps, stepping up to me so he’s almost on me and forcing us both to drop the plates and glasses onto the table beside us.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say. Conner isn’t a private investigator, so it’s not like I’m cheating on you,” I point out, grinning when his agitation shifts to annoyance.

  “Fuck, you’re enjoying this!” he snaps out.

  “I’m really not,” I lie. “What are you concerned about? That Conner asked me out? That I set up a date with him? That he fucked me in the back room? What is this about?” I ask, watching as his annoyance shifts to anger, his whole body tensing as his hands fists at his sides.