Page 10 of Finding Lord Landry

“No,” I said, hiding a smile. “Just a basic screw with a beautiful presentation.”

She tried to think of other examples, mentioning the collectible glass jar she’d bought Nutella in at Christmas and the pink tissue paper and satin ribbon that her everyday sports bra had been wrapped in at the shops.

“But back to this guy in your phone. What do you do for him?”

I clicked my screen on and glanced down at the photo. Just seeing Landry’s face, the pert nose and piercing eyes, did something to me.Orgasm, mostly, I thought.

I bit my lip and tried to stay focused. “I’m an executive assistant. He’s one of my bosses.”

The woman, who’d introduced herself as Lindsey, bounced her eyebrows. “Are the others that pretty?”

I sighed. “I mean, kind of.”

“So, like, you make them coffee and do their… accounting and stuff?”

“I do whatever needs to be done,” I said. “Scheduling, negotiations, project management, communications and correspondence, crisis management, you name it, I’m probably in charge of it.”

She turned in her seat to face me as if settling in for a salacious story. “Oooh. What kind of crisis management? Anything good?”

I thought of some of the doozies. Handling a man who’d fraudulently claimed to be the owner of Bash’s company. Untangling Silas from an accidental Vegas marriage to a stranger. Navigating Dev’s sudden fatherhood to a baby he didn’t know he had. And finally, dealing with multiple threats against Zane’s life while he was on a world tour.

“No,” I said, hearing my voice squeak a little. “Mostly regular stuff. Now that you mention it, I do grab a lot of coffee.”

She gave a dreamy sigh. “I wouldn’t mind fetching coffee for that one.”

“What do you do?” I asked out of politeness.

“I’m a lifestyle influencer.”

There were many, many ways of responding to this, but in the end, I said, “How interesting. Do you enjoy it?”

By the time we’d pulled into the resort’s porte cochere, I regretted asking. Lindsey seemed interested in creating social media content while she was at the retreat, which was an interesting choice for a follower of Chaska Inira.

One of my favorite Chaska quotes, which I kept in a widget on my tablet as a helpful reminder, read:True presence is found in the quiet between thoughts.In the spaces where we are not distracted by the pull of distant voices, we learn to enjoy the simple act of being, without the urge to seek what’s elsewhere.

Seemed Lindsey hadn’t gotten to that module of Chaska’s mindfulness course yet.

I glanced down at my phone. Landry’s bright eyes and pouty lips stared back at me mockingly, and my stomach twisted with want.

I turned the phone off with a sigh. It was possible I could use a refresher on that “seeking what’s elsewhere” business myself.

But that was one of the reasons I was here at the retreat. Obviously, I was eager to study mindfulness with a master, but I was also eager to get a little distance from Landry. Remaining in an enemies-with-benefits situation with him wasn’t going to get me to my goals.

I was here to focus on my goals.

As we entered the large, open-air lobby with views of the ocean out the opposite side, I spotted tasteful signage for the retreat. One of the signs read:“Step Away to Step Within: To fully embrace the peace of this retreat, we invite you to turn off your devices and tune in to the rhythm of the present moment. Let the world outside rest while you journey inward. Your mind, heart, and spirit deserve this time of undivided attention.”

Right. It was time. I was well aware of my phone addiction, and I’d gone to great lengths to prepare for my monthlong absence from my job and my commitments by training an assistant and preparing my army of support staff. It would be fine. The world—and the Brotherhood—could survive without me.

I couldn’t imagine someone like Lindsey would respect the strong suggestion to pack away all electronic devices, but I reminded myself that was none of my business.

When I pulled out my phone to power it down, the image of Landry’s face flirted back up at me from the screen.

I didn’t want my last message to be such a rude dismissal, even though I’d been joking.

I’m turning off my phone. Please take care of yourself. And… don’t do anything stupid.

I took one last look at the photo before turning the device off and storing it in the pocket of my suitcase so I wouldn’t keep reaching for it out of habit.

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