Page 8 of At Her Will

“You’re not working.”

Abby was standing in Vera’s doorway. Her catlike hazel eyes were clear and sharp, and she was making eye contact. That, and her presence in the office, said it was a good day for their CFO, who suffered from paranoid schizophrenia.

Neil was also home right now, which helped. The active SEAL could be called away for missions that spanned a few days or a few weeks, but when they’d gotten together, Abby had insisted he keep his job. Between an amazing psychiatrist who helped her manage her medications, and the support network in thisbuilding, her foundation was strong. She was determined that Neil would be able to serve out his twenty-year stint.

Neil had agreed, with one caveat; that he’d make his own decision about when and if she needed him to be here full time. She was the most important thing in his life, and nothing would undermine that, even his life’s calling.

Abby’s long red hair and body of a Hollywood starlet upset the stereotype of the bespectacled and bookish-looking accountant. Her aptitude for finances was exceptional, but since her diagnosis, she had her work double-checked by her team, just in case. She accepted her limitations without often letting them dismay her. When they did, the women and Neil helped her over the rough patches.

“Yes, I’m such a slacker,” Vera told her. “I took five minutes to look out the window before I dive into the contracts Cyn’s far-too-successful account teams have created. Darn overachievers.”

“Well, working for Cyn, they’re not likely to under achieve. They live in fear and awe of her.”

“As do we all. Her and Ros.”

Abby chuckled. “You look like you have something on your mind that isn’t about this. Something good?”

“Maybe. I ran into someone intriguing at the school.”

“Intriguing enough to pull two of my essential staff away from their work?”

Ros had arrived behind Abby, her jewel blue eyes sparkling as she teased them. Her gaze also touched Vera’s purple and black heels. “Told you those would look great on you. Skye said, ‘They add a subtle punctuation to Vera’s already fascinating personality.’”

People who went shoe-shopping with Ros never looked at a pair the same way again.

“What voice did she use?” Vera asked.

“Mine,” Ros said. “Little wiseass.”

Their I/T and communications director could sign fluently, but for a speaking world, she employed the latest in digital voice technology. While she liked using celebrity voices, her coworkers and friends’ voices weren’t off limits.

“I keep telling you we shouldn’t use voice recognition as a security measure here,” Vera said. “If we ever tick her off, she’ll empty our accounts and head for the islands.”

“She won’t go without Tiger, and he’s not leaving his garage unless he’s being carried away by a funeral home. I think he plans to have his precious motorcycle collection cremated with him, like a Viking funeral pyre.”

“Plus Skye gets paid more than all the rest of us,” Abby added. “She has more reason to stay.”

“Except for Bastion,” Ros corrected. “His skillset is the most indispensable.”

They were joking, but all of the staff were paid generously. Ros and Abby believed in rewarding success, and their employees were paid commensurate with their efforts.

As Abby moved further inside Vera’s office, Ros stepped up to her desk to lay a folder on it. “We got the contract with the Bullington Group.”

“I had no doubts,” Abby said dryly. “Especially after he told you he’d never trust his sizeable marketing budget to a female-led firm.”

“I’ll probably regret it, since we’ll have to handhold him through the ups and downs for the long-term gain.” Ros nodded at Vera. “If the senior marketing candidate you’re meeting today gets hired, tell Cyn I recommend she give him and his team that account. Bullington will be able to self-manage those ups and downs if the point manisa man. I don’t mind taking the short cut.”

“Because you’ve single-handedly scored the account, vagina and all.”

“There’s that.” Ros showed her white teeth in a cutthroat smile and brushed back the dark streak in her white-blonde hair. “Plus, we’ll take such good care of him, he’ll revise his whole life view and moral structure.”

“She loves to fantasize,” Vera noted to Abby.

“What happened to the moratorium on acquiring major accounts?” Abby arched a brow.

“He made that asinine comment at the Kensington and Associates cocktail party, and Matt Kensington bet me a five-thousand-dollar donation for Laurel Grove that I couldn’t change his mind.”

“He knew you would,” Vera said, with satisfaction.

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