They did and were left waiting an inordinate amount of time.
“Stupid power games,” Ben muttered. “Piss me off.”
“Which is exactly what they’re supposed to do,” Isaac answered.
“Sure, but they aren’t nearly as effective when each party recognizes the other’s common strategies.”
A feminine voice interjected. “It’s the uncommon ones you have to guard against.”
Isaac looked up and found a tall woman with short dark hair and cool green eyes standing over them.
She held out a hand. “Gentlemen, I’m Casey Bass.”
Isaac let Ben stand first and shake hands before he rose and followed suit. “Pardon my directness, but we’re here to see Miss Sullivan.”
Her eyes cooled further. “I’m sure you are.”
There was an underlying hostility that Isaac didn’t understand, but he knew he wasn’t imagining it when Ben shot him a mystified look.
“Follow me, please.” The dark-haired woman started down a long, nondescript hallway, moving at a sharp clip.
Isaac followed, rolling the woman’s name around in his mind.Casey Bass. Casey Bass.Why did it sound so familiar?
Rachel called a woman named Casey before we left for Ireland.
“Excuse me,” he said, increasing the length of his stride so that he passed Ben and caught up to the woman. “Are you Rachel’s friend, Casey?”
“I am,” she answered, not bothering to slow down let alone look at him.
Irritated, he refused to be deterredby her attitude. “I was under the impression we’d be negotiating with Rachel—Miss Sullivan,” he quickly amended.
The woman stopped so abruptly that Isaac had to scramble to keep from running over her.
She shot him a bitter look, her mouth a hard, inflexible slash across her face. “I’m sure you did, Isaac... Mr. Miller.”
The way she amended her address of him was less correction and more verbal sneer.
“Do I know you, Ms. Bass?”
“No, Mr. Miller. You don’t.”
“Then may I ask why you’re treating me with such open disdain?”
“Yes, you may.” And she started down the hallway again.
He caught up to her in four long strides and began walking shoulder-to-shoulder with her. “And?”
She stopped again, and this time Isaac had to turn back to face her.
“You’re free to ask. That doesn’t entitle you to an answer. I’m of the opinion that the lines between personal and professional relationships have been crossed one too many times of late, and you’re clearly not the one to have suffered the consequences.” She reached around him and shoved open a door. “We’ll meet in here. Mr. Franks will join us momentarily.”
She strode in, not offering them refreshment or even choice of seating. She simply went to the other side of the table and sat down, folded her hands and stared at the door.
“Ms. Bass, I’m certainly not trying to provoke you.”
“Then stop asking about Rachel,” she snapped.
He knew he should let it go, that the very lines between personal and professional that she had referenced were blurring, but she was pissing him off. “We came here under the impression that we’d be dealing with Miss Sullivan.”