Page 145 of Beyond the Cottage

When she got herself under some semblance of control, Gretta smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her skirt and straightened her jacket. She approached the antechamber door, forcing a smile that cracked her heart in half.

Chapter 50

Ansel waited on a bench in the hall, rubbing his sweaty palms together. His future lay in the hands of a goddamn politician, one who’d love nothing more than to see Ansel strung to a mule by the ankles and whipped from the capital.

But he could think of no greater champion than Gretta.

He checked his watch and jostled his leg. When the door opened, he shot to his feet. Gretta came out with a smile that eased all the tension from his body.

“So?” he asked.

She fished a thick slip of paper from her reticule and handed it to him—a bank draft. When he saw the number written on it, his mouth fell open.

He dropped to the bench. “What is this?”

“Money. Nat’s investing.”

Dazed, Ansel ran a hand over his mouth. There was no absorbing that number or what it meant. He barelyregisteredit as a number. It was more like a single digit with endless curling loops tacked on.

He scrubbed his hair back and stared some more. “Gretta, this is…”

“Insane, I know. He wants to make sure you don’t seek other investors.”

“I—” He cleared his throat. “Thank you. This is because of you. I’m overwhelmed. You overwhelm me.”

Looking at her hands as she sat by him, she said, “I’m getting something out of it, too. He asked me to head this project.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “You work for me now, Lab Coat.”

Grinning, he took her hand.

She pulled it free to fiddle with her reticule. “You’ll need to choose a bank. I imagine they’ll fall all over themselves to land you. And you’ll need to hire a lawyer.”

He’d find lab space, too. Suppliers, assistants. Also, a goddamn real estate agent. His first order of business would be buying Gretta a house.

He dragged her into his arms. She pressed her face to his neck and held him tighter than ever, nearly strangling him.

“We should celebrate,” he said. “I’m low on cash until I deposit this, but we can get dinner. I’ve always wanted to try pixish food.”

“I don’t think so, Anse.”

“No? I’m certainly not opposed to staying in. It’s been a while since I’ve had a boss, you can work on correcting my insubordinate behavior.”

She pushed off his chest and slid across the bench.

Indefinable dread crept in. “What is it?”

“Nothing. We just…can’t do that anymore.”

“Do what?”

“Fool around.” She wouldn’t look at him. “Hugging, kissing. No more touching of any kind, actually.”

Dread became a five-alarm fire. “Why the fuck not?”

“Nat’s strict about intraoffice affairs.”

He stared at her, disbelieving. When she continued withholding her eyes from him, something in him shriveled.

She saw this as a simple affair? She tended to shy away from intimacy, and he knew he wasn’t her boyfriend. But he’d thought their ‘relations’ were more than an illicit tryst.

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