Page 14 of Honor

She puts that concern to rest when she replies in record time.

Lottie: Evie!! It’s great to hear from you. How has the rest of your day been?

Not wanting to bore her with a laundry list of complaints about my boss, I respond with a generic answer.

Evie: It’s been a pretty good day for me. You?

I smile when I read the message she sends back.

Lottie: Same. Do you want to meet up for a coffee tomorrow? Maybe after work?

Since I never know what curve ball my boss will toss at me throughout the day, I agree, but with a warning.

Evie: I’m in, but my boss rarely gives me much of a heads-up when I need to work late, so I might have to bail last minute.

Her reply arrives as I’m reading an email from a client.

Lottie: Noted. I’ll text you tomorrow afternoon to see if the jerk will let you free. Ha ha!

I let out a small laugh before I respond.

Evie: HAHA! Until tomorrow.

Just as I’m pressing send on the message, the door to the conference room swings open, and Mr. Hunt storms out, looking like he had a fight with an alley cat.

The knot on his tie is slightly askew, and his hair is out of place. A few strands are sticking straight up.

What the hell goes on in those meetings?

His gaze burns into me as he shuts the door behind him. “Did I hear laughter just now?”

You have got to be kidding me.

How?

How in the ever loving anything did the man hear my very soft laugh?

“No,” I lie. “I don’t think so, sir.”

He taps the lobe of his ear. “I heard laughter.”

“It must have been streaming through the air vents,” I toss that out there with a straight face. “The atrium is right above this conference room. Maybe some employees are up there having fun.”

The look of horror on his face is picture worthy, but if I hold my phone up now and start snapping away, I’ll need to look for a new job tomorrow.

I’m too damn tired to do that.

“Go up there and tell them to shut the hell up,” he says loud enough that I’m sure everyone in the conference room can hear him.

“I’m on it,” I say, grateful to leave my post outside the door.

“Good.” He gives me a quick once over. “Get back here as soon as you take care of that. This meeting may go all night.”

I don’t have to ask why. The fact that his fingers are raking through his hair gives it away. He’s frustrated, which means the negotiation isn’t going as smoothly as he would like.

“Go, Miss Starling,” he says, encouraging me to move with a brush of his hand in the air.

I nod and set out in a slow sprint toward the elevator that will take me up to the atrium and all of the leftover food and iced tea that is likely still there after the meeting with the Bogners.

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