Finally.
I stepped out into the hallway, rolling tension from my shoulders. Mitch waited there. Of course he did. My assistant stood with a tablet tucked under one arm, tie perfectly straight, expression hovering somewhere between concern and irritation.
“Elijah.”
“Mitch. You’re supposed to be Stateside.”
We started walking down the corridor together.
“With the lack of answers I’ve had from you, I thought it better to cross the pond. Tell me the truth,” he said. “Did you actually listen to any of that meeting?”
“I caught the important parts.”
“Which were?”
“Profit projections and the fact you’ve been breathing down my neck for forty-eight hours to attend it.”
“That’s because the firm you just acquired requires attention.”
“It received attention.”
“Minimal.”
I shot him a glance. “You’re developing a talent for nagging.”
“Part of the job description.” Mitch tapped something on his tablet. “While you were otherwise occupied this week,” he continued, voice carefully neutral, “three investors have requested meetings. Two board members want updates on the Boston expansion. And the Crowley’s acquisition still needs your input.”
I kept walking. “I’ll handle it.”
“You said that yesterday.”
“And?”
“And yesterday you were on a rooftop in Deadwater ignoring phone calls.”
My mouth twitched. “Got spy drones over me now?”
“It’s my job to be observant.”
We reached the lift. Mitch pressed the button with the air of a man who would happily mash my skull against the wall if company policy allowed it.
The doors slid open. Inside, silence stretched for a moment.
Then Mitch cleared his throat. “May I ask a question?”
“You’re going to anyway.”
“This… situation in Deadwater.”
I leaned back on the mirrored wall. “If you mean Bonnie, you’ll speak more respectfully. What about her?”
His gaze flicked towards me briefly. “I’m assuming it’s temporary?”
I smiled slowly. Dangerously. “Have you ever known me to take flights of fancy?”
Mitch’s mouth tightened almost imperceptibly. “I see.”
“You obviously don’t.”