Page 3 of A Break in Communications

“Like the digital media platform?”

Oh, that’s what this was about… I walked past her, sitting at my desk, and I slid my computer away from where she had her ass parked. “You snooze, you lose, Masters.”

“How did you even get the documents for that?”

I knew her computer PIN, obviously. It wasn’t my fault she’d kept all the files stored locally so that nobody else could finish up the job, so I’d just helped her adhere to best practices so I could get it done. And file it away under my name. It wasn’t anything Lucy hadn’t already done a million times. But I didn’t need to give her the gratification of the answer, so I said, “Christmas miracle.”

“Santa came around and dropped them in your stocking, did he? Guess you’ve been nice this year, Preston.”

“Anything with your fingerprints on it is definitely a lump of coal, so don’t jump to conclusions. You should be grateful I stepped in to finish it. Your documentation has room for improvement.”

She smiled wider. “So, on the naughty list, then.”

I sighed. “Masters, if you’re done sitting on my desk, can I get back to my job now? You should probably get back to yours if you want to finish tonight.”

She slid down, heels tapping on the floor, before she turned away. “One of these days I’ll get through to you, darling. Ciao.”

“Ciao,bella.” I sighed, hard, turning back to my computer, only to find—once I alt-tabbed trying to go back to what I was doing—a notepad document left sayingI’m not letting you have all the fun alone, sweetheart,and then below it,merry Christmas.My blood ran cold in my veins, sitting there staring at the screen—between Rickety Rick breaking something, Manfield strolling through the place, Kelcey whining about her job, and the office being mostly empty this late, nobody would have actually noticed Lucy poking around on my computer, and it was anyone’s guess what she’d swiped from my files while Kelcey had me. Christ, I didn’t know what the hell I was thinking, stepping away from my laptop without locking it in an office where Lucy Masters worked.

I went through every window, hitting undo or history everywhere I went—nothing. I groaned. No signs left of whatever she’d done, which meant it was time for the game of figuring out what she was trying to swipe out from under me so I could get it done first.

Plus, I wasn’t—well, I wasn’tsupposedto be locking stuff away on my own laptop and keeping Lucy from contributing, so it wasn’t like I could really go to Sean about it. So I was on my own with the damn game.

Or… maybe I didn’t need to play. Maybe this meant she’d be distracted with whatever she’d gotten and not have the time to pick up whatevertricky little jobSean had for me.

Okay. Maybe I was winning this. Maybe I was doing all right.

And maybe she wasn’t going to rattle me.

Mom probably was, though.

Chapter 2

Anna

I really forgot how many pictures of… trees Sean kept in his office. All these years and I’d never asked, kind of just assumed he liked the style, but when I got into the office and found him holding one of the pictures looking at it, I paused, lingering by the door as I shut it slowly.

“Sean,” I said, and he set the picture down, turning to me with a smile.

“Anna. Have a seat.”

“Can I ask you something?” I said, moving to the chair across his desk. “What’s with the pictures?”

He settled into his seat, smiling warmly. “I took them all myself. Memories in all of them, you know.”

“Wait, really?” I stopped, looking around the room. They were all professional work… “I had no idea you were a photographer.”

“When I was closer to your age, I wanted to be a nature photographer and fill the spreads of magazines. But in the end…”

I paused. “It didn’t work out?”

“I hate bugs. Creepy-crawlies all over you when you wade through the bushes for the right shot.” He waved me off. “Climate-controlled offices. There’s a reason it’s the top of the world. Still, I’m looking forward to taking silly little picturesagain once I’m out of this place. I’ve been here long enough. You’d do well to remember your personal life, too, Anna.”

“Ah…” I scratched my head. “Well. I do have a holiday reunion with my family on Saturday, so I’m doing pretty okay. So what’s this tricky little job?”

He leaned over the desk, folding his arms and giving me a studying look. “You’ve been following the Gould and Stephens account.”

“Still sore over the trucks in October?”

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