Page 15 of Beck and Call

"I'll fix it," he promised.

"It's a little fast, but I thought this was what you wanted."

He exhaled sharply. "This had to happen on Friday,” he muttered to himself. I almost didn’t hear him, which I think was what he wanted.

He tried to fake a smile, but it didn’t extend to his eyes. “Let's just figure out the sleeping arrangements later. We need to get ready to meet the clients for lunch."

He went into the sitting area of the room and opened the closet. I heard the rustle of fabric and the slide of hangers. When he came back, he held a sapphire blue wrap dress in one hand and a pair of black heels in the other. "There's a matching bag and a jacket in the closet. I'm going to go down to the bar and give you some privacy."

Without another word he quickly exited the room. I wasn't sure how I felt about sharing a room with him, but I was fairly certain he wasn't very happy with it.

* * *

After I was ready, he still hadn't returned to the room. I waited a while longer, but I was starting to fear he would miss his meeting if I didn't go and find him. There was a key card on the table, and I'd only seen one, so I grabbed it along with my passport and wallet and put them in the purse. On my way out the door I grabbed the note pad and pen from the desk and shoved those into the clutch as well.

The hotel bar was easy to find, and so was Beckett. He sat on a stool staring into a glass of amber liquid. My heels clacked against the floor as I made my way over to him. Once I was behind him he looked over his shoulder. He didn't appear to be drunk, but I also didn't think this was his first glass.

I bit my lip, trying to shove aside the awkwardness that consumed me whenever he was near. "I don't have your schedule yet, so I thought I better come down here and see what time we are supposed to meet your client."

He pushed the glass away, and as he rose he pulled his suit jacket closed and buttoned it. The movement was fluid and instinctual. It made me wonder if he ever wore t-shirts and jeans. If he did, I couldn't imagine it.

"Good timing, the car should be arriving now." Beckett put his hand on the small of my back and led me through the lobby.

"Did you change your mind about wanting me to go with you?" I asked.

I hadn’t missed the fact that he’d already ordered the car. He was going to go without me. After dragging me halfway around the world he’d decided he didn’t need my assistance after all.

I could move on easily at this point. Yes, he was stunningly handsome, but he was proving to be mercurial. I could keep going with my life as it was. Eventually, something had to break for me.

Everything would go on as it was before he found me at the ball. I’d continue waiting tables, go home to my closet-sized apartment, and basically live the life my grandmother had. The thought was instantly depressing, but it was also all I'd ever known.

Or, I could fight for what was right in front of me. I could show Beckett I could be his assistant. It was likely the only type of relationship we'd have since he seemed suddenly averse to me. It was nothing more than I expected, and honestly, I'm glad I hadn't slept with him first.

Beckett patted his pocket and frowned. "It appears I left my wallet in the bar." He strolled back into the bar, and I took advantage of him being busy to take care of my first task as his assistant. I walked to the front desk and placed my arms on top.

"Can I help you, Miss?" The concierge asked.

"Yes, I need you to secure another room for me. Any room will do. Mr. Anderson needs his privacy, and sharing a room simply isn't going to work."

The color drained from his face. "Oh, well, we're all booked up. There's a delegation here for the EU."

I shot him my most annoyed look. "Really, none of the low-level assistants booked into their own room while another has a double? No mistresses booked in secret that have yet to arrive?"

"Oh, well we wouldn't presume to judge," he sputtered.

"Of course not. However, you seem to be willing to lose the business of Anderson Global to appease a low-level diplomat's assistant or mistress. Is that what you'd like me to believe? A suite or other accommodation where Mr. Anderson has some privacy would prevent that."

"When you put it that way, there is a room that hasn't been claimed yet. I can just pass along to the diplomat's secretary that the room he requested reserved in case a friend might show up, was erroneously given to him from a previous booking."

I smiled at him. "See, I knew you were the man who could help me. I'd be so appreciative if my things could be moved out of the closet in Mr. Anderson's room and placed in this other room. Unless of course this is a better room, then please have Mr. Anderson set up there."

He coded a keycard and slid it over to me. "Mr. Anderson is very lucky to have you as an assistant. You're a formidable woman."

My smile grew; no longer was I miss, or the recipient of one of his placating smiles. It was a small victory, but I'd take it.

"This is a smaller room. I'll have your things set up in there straight away."

"Thank you," I replied. "Could you also have Mr. Anderson unpacked? I'd hate for his suits to wrinkle."

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