Page 50 of Honor

My head snaps in his direction. “No.”

“Yes,” he insists with a sharp glance aimed right at me. “We need to talk, Evangeline.”

“We can talk on Monday,” I suggest in an even tone, even though my emotions are tied up in knots.

I need tomorrow to collect not only my thoughts but my courage, too. I can’t imagine he’ll overlook the boss from hell comment forever, and I’m still holding onto a sliver of hope that I’ll find a way to keep my job.

“I want to talk now.” He glances at the back of Basil’s head before he levels his gaze on me again. “This can’t wait.”

I try one last approach to bide me more time before I confess everything to him. “I had a lot of champagne tonight, sir. I’ll be much more level-headed on Monday morning. I can meet you in your office at nine a.m., and once we’re done talking, I’ll get right to work.”

That statement is ripe with assumptions. After tonight, he’ll likely strip me of all of my security clearances, and I’ll be banned from the Vidori offices for eternity.

“We’re talking tonight, Miss Starling.” He leans back in the seat. “Basil, stop on the way for a strong cup of coffee.”

“For you, sir?” he asks as he gazes in the rear view mirror at Mr. Hunt’s reflection.

“No,” he answers briskly. “For Miss Starling. Make it a large. Have them add a splash of cream and a packet of sugar to it. That’s the way she likes it.”

How the hell does he know how I take my coffee?

I’m tempted to ask, but he’s staring out the window next to him, watching the city flash by as Basil skilfully steers the car through the late evening traffic toward a brief pit stop before I step into my boss’s apartment and find out my fate.

The champagneI guzzled at Nova is hitting me hard.

I trail behind Mr. Hunt as we make our way through the lobby of his apartment building. Naturally, the doorman on duty tosses my boss a megawatt smile while his fingertips dance over his palm.

I know that move. He’s itching for a tip.

He’s tried it with me time and time again when he’s working the day shift, and I swing by to drop off dry cleaning or rare watches.

I typically offer him one of the foil wrapped peppermints I pick up in the lobby of the Beaumont Hotel.

He always thanks me profusely, although I’ve often wondered if he’s secretly seething inside because I don’t slip a five dollar bill into his hand the way my boss is right now.

Wait a minute.

That’s not a five. It’s a fifty.

If I do lose my job tonight, I may have to reconsider a career change to a door person. I’m already an expert at the friendly greeting part of the job. I can hail a cab without any issues, and I’ve been lugging Mr. Hunt’s suits around town, so a few packages from the lobby of a luxury building up to an apartment is well within my repertoire.

“Let’s go, Evangeline.” Mr. Hunt motions for me to board one of the elevators as soon as the doors slide open.

“Most people call me Evie,” I say, even though he likely won’t call me anything but an ex-employee by the time I leave this building tonight.

He tightens his grip around my coffee cup.

After Basil handed it to Mr. Hunt in the car, he complained that it was too hot for me, so he held onto it.

I’d call it punishment, but I sense he’s right. I’ve ordered coffee from that particular chain in the past, and it’s been a little too hot to handle since the cardboard sleeves wrapped around the cups are almost paper thin.

“Does anyone call you Evangeline?” The sound of my boss’s voice flows over me.

I close my eyes briefly. “Just you.”

“Why?” he asks as a ding fills the air, signaling we’ve reached our final destination. “Why just me?”

“Evie suits me better.”

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