“Go get fucked,” Callie says far too salaciously in my ear. Causing me to nearly stumble over my two left feet.
“I will mute you.”
“No, you won’t.” She giggles, which is honestly a beautiful sound.
“I’d never.”
“Steal me one of those puff balls. And the crab quiche. The one I priced.” The one she priced. She picked the caterer. She picked the venue. She helped me pick everything in that ballroom except who got to walk into it.
“Callie—”
“Don’t. Just bring me the quiche.”
“Where?”
“Behind Aphrodite.”
“And if I get caught?”
“I’ll kill the witness.”
“Cool. Cool. Cool.”
“You going to go in?”
“Yes.” I do not in fact go in.
“You should. Because that fucking sexy piece of deliciousness you call a boss is heading right your way.” She pauses. “He doesn’t look thrilled. Odd.”
I dive for an alcove. “What?”
“He’s mean-mugging everyone.”
“Callie,” I hiss.
“And he’s headed your way.”
“What do I do?” My voice echoes a little.
“Fuck him.” The line seizes like a code blue before going dead.
That bitch cut me off. With no backup and nowhere to hide.
His footsteps. I know his footsteps. Two years of his footsteps approaching my desk, approaching my office, approaching the breakroom while I pretended to read the bulletin board. I would know them in a coma.
He rounds the alcove.
“Hadley.” Just my name. No Ms. No Hey. No there you are. My name in his mouth like he is testing whether it fits.
The cupcake smell arrives a half-second after he does and my dress, my dress that has already been through too much tonight, registers him before I do. The satin shifts at my collarbone. Damp again from my sweat.
“I need a word with you.”
The comm in my ear goes dead with a high-pitched beep. The hallway behind him is empty. Callie is gone. George is gone. There is only my boss and the humidity in the air and the wet seam at my collarbone.
“Of course, sir.” My voice is nothing more than the soft squeak of a mouse. “Anything you need.”
Chapter Three