Page 26 of The Relationship Clause

She smirks but says nothing else. It’s unlike her to hold her tongue about anything, so I’m immediately on high alert.

“What?”

She shrugs. “What?”

“What, what? Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Ask about whose coffee it was and then smirk when I told you it was Owen’s.”

“No reason.”

“Kiera—”

“Miss Cousins!”

Now I’m the one scattering like a mouse. I make it to Mr. Ferguson’s office in record time, considering I’m wearing heels, but he’s already sitting there, waiting, hands steepled in front of him like he’s been here for hours.

“Close the door.”

I suppress a shiver and obey. His deep voice just does something to me, okay?

He probably wants me to cower and be all submissive, but that’s not how I roll. Not this time. Not this job. Instead, I stride forward and place his coffee and his pastry in front of him, then whip out my phone.

“What’s this?” he asks.

“Your usual,” I tell him. “Well, the coffee is your usual. The pastry is because every human needs to consume carbs once in a while, even you. Now, Mr. Ferguson, let’s talk about your schedule.”

“I eat carbs and—My schedule?”

“You’ve got a supplier calling at 9:30 so I’ll make sure to keep the phones clear for you during that time. After that—”

“Miss Cousins.”

“—you’ve got a meeting with your marketing and sales department. I’ve scheduled them tentatively for ten, but we can adjust as necessary depending on the phone call with the supplier. At eleven you have your—”

“Miss Cousins.”

“—weekly meeting with your partner. You didn’t have any time set aside for lunch so I—”

“Miss Cousins!”

I stop in my list, tilting my head. I’m an innocent little secretary. “Yes, Mr. Ferguson?”

“How do you know all of that?”

“Because I memorized your schedule.”

“You memorized my—?” There’s half a second where he looks as if he’s in awe. I take a mental picture and stuff it away to fuel my efforts. “No, no, I mean, how do you even know what’s on my schedule?”

“Summer showed me how to access it, of course.” I give him another bright smile, and it looks as if it’s still taking him some time to process, not because he doesn’t understand, but because he’s still trying to decide how to respond. “Is that a problem? Should I not have access to your schedule? I figured since I’m acting as your secretary, it’s something I should do.”

“Uh, no, um, it’s fine. It’s… Ugh. Miss Cousins, that is entirely beside the point of why I called you in here.” He stands from his desk and paces. The movement draws attention to his backside when he turns around, but I am definitely not noticing that. “Besides the fact that you were distracting my employees from their work, I don’t think it’s such a good idea for you to be so…”

He pauses and I jump in. “What? Friendly? Isn’t that kind of in the job description? Plus, I need to be friendly if I’m going to help you work out who the mole”—I whisper the word—“is, don’t you think?”

“...Yes.”

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