Page 23 of Make Her Mine

The forbidding-looking receptionist, a young man with perfectly sculpted auburn hair, skin that spoke to an expensive nightly routine, and a sharply cut suit, raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have an appointment? People don’t just ‘see’ Ms. Hartley.”

“I’m aware.” This was starting to feel like a mistake. But she hadn’t gotten this far in life by backing down. “Please let her know that Esme Bloom is here to see her about the Fairchild Building.”

The young man didn’t roll his eyes at her, but Esme certainly got the feeling that he wanted to. Still, he picked up the receiver of a shiny black phone and pressed a button. “A Ms. Bloom is here to see Ms. Hartley. She says it’s about the Fairchild Building.” He paused, and then his eyes widened. “Really? I mean… yes, Ms. McIntire.”

Esme waited as he hung up. Looking like he thought this was all a bad idea, the receptionist shook his head and met her gaze. “Right. Well, you can go up. Not those elevators,” he said just as Esme was about to head to the bank of six elevators in the center of the atrium. He pointed to a far corner of the large room, to a trio of small, glass-enclosed elevators. “The express cars go to the private floors. Take the middle one and use this key card.” Passing her a heavy, metallic old-gold card with a simple script H engraved on it, he waved her off. “Return that when you come back down,” he called after her.

It felt like forever crossing the huge atrium over to the express elevator bank. And she was sure people were staring at her, the way she didn’t look like them, how she was in a long tank dress compared to their designer power suits, carrying a straw tote instead of a Birkin. Esme fought not to scurry onto the two-person elevator like some sort of furtive criminal. She held her head high and swiped the key card.

The ride up to the top floor was smooth, the music piping into the small space pleasant. Esme kept twisting the handles of her bag, the raffia rough against her palms.

Finally, the elevator glided to a stop and the mirrored brass doors slid open with a soft chiming bell. Esme stepped out into a bright and warm space, so well-lit from the sunlight streaming in through the large, tinted windows that there wasn’t a single overhead light turned on. The office was elegant and minimalist, in a way that reminded Esme of Nora herself.

It was an open sort of area, with a polished wood desk to her right, and a few wide doorways leading into different rooms; the one to her left was clearly a printer room, with a huge Xerox machine gleaming in the corner. To her right, she thought she saw a small kitchenette, with a very expensive-looking, professional-grade espresso maker near the door.

The center doorway wasn’t fully opened. Esme was fairly certain Nora wouldn’t be sitting at the nearby desk in this big open area, so this central doorway surely had to lead to her office. Was she in there now? Esme strained to see if she could hear anything, any typing or talking or even a chair wheeling over the pale wooden floors.

Silence.

She inched forward, extending her hand out to push the door open.

“She’s not there.”

Esme whirled around. A stunning redhead leaned in the doorway of the kitchenette, her arms crossed over her cream linen shirtwaist dress, a cup of yogurt in one hand. “Sorry,” she said, her red lips curving into a friendly smile. “I didn’t mean to startle you; I was just getting myself a snack.” She held up the yogurt.

“Oh,” Esme said.

“I’m Laurie McIntire, Nora’s assistant.” The woman stepped forward, hand extended. Esme took it, still a bit bemused. But after a moment, something occurred to her.

“I know that name,” Esme said, still holding Laurie’s hand. “You’ve been ordering from us like crazy for weeks.”

“Have I?” Laurie grinned as she tugged her hand free and walked over to sit on the edge of the nearby desk.

Esme thought, then nodded. “Nora has.”

“She thinks your chef doesn’t like her very much. It seemed safer to order under a different name.”

“Fair enough.” Esme chuckled. “She is correct, Sasha doesn’t like her at all. But she’d never tamper with anyone’s food, I promise.”

“Well, it was just a precaution. And I got a lot of excellent free lunches for my trouble.” Laurie pushed herself further back on the desktop and leaned back on her hands. Her crossed ankles swung back and forth as she observed Esme with a keen eye.

Esme looked around. “So… you said Nora isn’t here?”

“No. She’s out scouting out some properties, having a business dinner. I was just waiting for the cleaning staff to come do their thing so I could lock up and leave.” She cocked her head. “But I wanted to meet you, so I cleared you to come up.”

“Me?” Esme felt her hands go back to twisting up her bag handles.

“You,” Laurie confirmed. “You’re the first person I’ve ever seen rattle the Big Boss Lady. And when I was doing my research into the Indigo Lounge, you impressed me. So yes, I wanted to meet you.”

Esme let go of her bag and held her arms out wide. “Well, here I am. What you see is what you get.”

“You know, I believe that, I really do. And what I see, I like. What I’ve found out, I like.” But suddenly, her bright smile faded into something more serious, and her gray eyes narrowed. “I don’t like how you’ve upset my boss, though. Especially after she’s really compromised herself ethically over you.”

That got Esme to lift her chin high. “I never asked her to. I never asked her for any of this.”

“Didn’t exactly discourage it with your full chest though, eh?” Laurie waved a dismissive hand. “But it doesn’t matter. I know what an irresistible attraction feels like. The trouble it can cause.” Once again, she locked eyes with Esme. “I didn’t ask you up here to give you more grief. From what I know of this whole situation, you have enough on your plate. I just…” She inhaled and sat up straight, drawing her shoulders back. “I have a deep respect and even affection for my employer. Not like what you’re probably thinking. I’m married.” A quicksilver smile. “My spouse is amazing. As amazing as Ms. Hartley, and I know I’m lucky to be married to them, so in my opinion, it follows that anyone who connects with Ms. Hartley should be aware of just how lucky they are to have her.”

Esme raised an eyebrow. “I don’t exactly have her.”

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