Page 119 of Pretty Little Thing

Twenty-Nine

Clive

“Hey, temp.”

I look up at Ali’s hovering head between our desks. “Yeah?”

She shines a mischievous smile. “Boss lady wants to see you.”

I pause. “She does?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She holds up a folder with my name stamped on it and passes it over to me. “It’s your four-week performance evaluation today.”

I stare at the folder in my hand, wondering where the hell the time went. “You’re kidding.”

She shrugs. “She said anytime but you might as well get it over with now. Payne can be… pretty rough.”

My lips twitch. “You don’t say?”

Ali disappears behind the wall. I feel a quick tease of adrenaline in my veins. Nora and I have to be careful around here. It’s rare that I find a genuine reason to go into her office.

I take the folder with me and make my way over, trying to act as normal and casual as possible.

Nora sits at her desk with her reading glasses on. She’s immersed in something — logo designs, by the looks of it — and she doesn’t notice me in the doorway. I take a moment to admire the view of her. Her milk-white skin and blood-red lips. Her blonde hair pulled back in a loose, but somehow elegantly professional, up-do. Her perfectly manicured French-tipped nails. And the collar, of course.

I look through the glass top desk at her outfit. It’s a gray suit jacket with a white blouse and…

I furrow my brow. Nora’s wearing a skirt. Nora Payne never wears a skirt to work.

I tap the door frame. “You wanted to see me, Ms. Payne?”

Her little eyes flick in my direction and for a second, I wonder if she really did know I was here the whole time and she was just… playing.

“Come on in, Clive,” she says. “Close the door behind you.”

I do as she says. She is the boss, after all.

I close the door and lay the folder down on her desk.

“Sit down,” she says.

I take a seat as she flicks the folder open. “Four weeks,” she muses, turning over my resume.

“Yes, ma’am,” I say.

“Ali seems to like you.”

I nod. “I guess so.”

She glances at me over the thick rims of her glasses. “Do you enjoy the work you do here, Clive?” she asks.

“I enjoy working for you, Ms. Payne.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“No,” I answer truthfully. “It’s not the kind of work I would prefer, but it is work and I’m happy to do it.”

She flops the folder onto her desk. “What kind of work would you prefer to be doing?”

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