Page 12 of Boss Me

How long since I’d seen him? Eighteen hours? Had he been sick and alone for that long? I tapped my boot all the way down to the ground floor.

I didn’t bother with the bus. I used my corporate card—if this wasn’t company business, I didn’t know what was—to take a ride share to Cooper’s swanky neighborhood and straight to his hilltop mansion, all Doric columns, white stone, and well-groomed environmentally friendly native plants. I asked the driver to wait for me in case we had to rush to the hospital. I wished I’d thought to grab a nondisclosure form before I left the office, but I could deal with that later. The important thing was ensuring Cooper was okay.

Jogging up to the fancy, carved-oak door, I rang the bell. A screen next to the door lit up and showed a woman’s face. Her gray hair was scraped back into a severe bun. Her face, golden brown and lightly lined, was an expressionless mask. “Can I help you?”

“Hi,” I panted. God, if just running from the car had gotten me this out of breath, I needed to start doing some cardio. “I’m Ben. Cooper’s assistant. I’m looking for him. Is he okay?”

Recognition flared in her brown eyes. “He’s not here.”

“He’s…not here? He’s not sick?”

“He left last night on a trip. But he left a package for you. I meant to send it to the office this morning, but the laundry was delayed.” She frowned. “One moment.” The screen went black.

A minute later, the door opened. From the woman’s tight bun, I expected her to answer the door in one of those old-fashioned black uniform dresses with a white apron. But she wore yoga pants and a dust-speckled T-shirt. She smoothed the hem of her shirt. “I was cleaning the chandeliers since Mr. Fallon is gone. Here.” She shoved a small box at me.

I took it automatically. “But he—he never showed. He didn’t go to Boston.”

Her eyes narrowed. “He’s not here.”

“Please.” I stepped closer. “Do you have any idea where he might’ve gone?”

She did. I could tell by the gleam in her eyes. But she said, “No. Sorry.” She hesitated for a moment. “The best thing you can do for Mr. Fallon is to give him a few days to himself.”

“Please, I—”

“Good-bye. When he comes back, I’ll let him know you were here.” She shut the heavy wooden door in my face.

I pressed the bell another dozen times, but the door didn’t open. Finally, I leaned back against a column and scanned the box in my hands. It was longer than it was wide and flat, made of glossy cardboard. It felt too light for one of Cooper’s fancy silk neckties.

I slid my thumb under the lid and opened it. A regular business-sized envelope lay on top of a crisply folded white handkerchief. Mine? I stroked the starched cotton. My handkerchief had never been so clean or…stiff. I sniffed it and caught the smell of Cooper’s laundry detergent. I snatched the envelope then crushed the box closed to lock in the scent. I tucked it under my arm and turned my attention to the envelope.

He’d scrawled my name across the front. Ben. Just my first name. It was almost intimate. I shivered as I turned it over to slide out the contents.

A gift certificate to a spa. A very generous one that’d cover a full day of treatments, even the decadent Dead Sea mud bath.

And a handwritten note.

Ben – I’ll be out for a few days. Take some time off. – Cooper

That was it. Eleven words, plus my name and his. No apology. No explanation. What the hell was going on?

“I need to find him,” I muttered.

But did I?

I turned back toward the car, still clutching the note he’d written. He’d left, according to his housekeeper. Most likely, he wasn’t sick. He’d turned off his phone. That meant he didn’t want to be found. Maybe she was right and what he needed most from me was time alone. To cover for him until he was scheduled to be back in the office on Monday.

I could do that. I could do what would help Cooper—and the company—the most.

He’d be back on Monday, and everything would be back to normal.

Right?

4

COOPER

It took me five tries to type the text to my financial adviser.

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