Page 34 of Sinful Beauty

“Victoria, everyone has offices in Switzerland.”

“You know what I mean. The power players for ZenFire are in New York.”

“This is his first job out of university.”

The unspoken addendum is that Tristan is in his mid-thirties. I can’t blame Mr. Peltz, though. This is his department. If something goes wrong, he can’t exactly use placating a board member as his defense to the board. Tristan might be Miriam Victoria Wagner’s son, but I have more experience than he does. And Mr. Peltz would never trust me to build relationships with the senior executives who are, for the most part, significantly older than Tristan and far more experienced.

I do not want to interrupt, so I sit back at my desk. If the coffee gets cold, I’ll collect a fresh pour.

From my desk, I can hear heated intonations, but I can’t make out the words. And I don’t want to. As I type away at my keyboard, it feels like my parents are fighting.

Minutes pass. My fingers press against the side of the porcelain and it’s still warm. The cracked door swings wide and Mrs. Wagner exits. Her expression is muted. I’ve no way of telling if she got her way or not. Her gaze falls on me and I lower mine instantly, hand on my mouse, focus trained on Mr. Pelz’s calendar.

Her olive green suit coat comes into view and stops.

I swallow and look up, forcing a smile that I hope doesn’t give away that I’m well aware she’s been arguing with my boss.

“Tristan’s not here?”

“Ah, no ma’am.”

The door is closed. It should be obvious, but I suppose he could be in his office working away with the door closed.

“Can you ask him to call me?”

“Of course.”

She lifts her glasses and holds them between her thumb and index finger. Her nails are thick and painted a lovely pale pink.

“Are you married?”

The question has me blinking and questioning my hearing.

“Ma’am?”

“There’s no ring, but are you married?”

“No, ma’am.”

“You’re not his assistant, are you?”

“No. No.” I glance behind me at the door. “We used to use that office for storage. It was one of the few vacant offices. That’s why he’s?—”

“Good.” Her lips press into a thin line. “You’re Tristan’s type. Don’t let Nelson assign you to assist Tristan. Do you hear me?” She steps back, like she’s looking for something. “Lucia. That’s your name, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You don’t want to deal with that.” She waves her hand at the closed door. “Trust me. Stay well away from him. He’s my son, and I love him dearly, but…” She slips her glasses back on. “You’ve been here quite a while, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you have any interest in cosmetics?”

“Victoria,” Mr. Pelz calls from within his office. “Don’t go pilfering my employees.”

She grins at me. “He’s so touchy.”

We share a smile and I feel like I’m in on something. But then her heels click away and I’m left with a message for Tristan to call his mum, and instructions to refuse to assist her son.

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