Page 37 of Inarticulate

They were on their own. And now, so was she.

Chapter Fourteen

“Spencer, you need to click on the specific parameters for the report I wrote in my instructions. Otherwise, it will automatically include all of them and print out a mass of unnecessary pages.” Savannah held the conference room phone to her ear in one hand and cradled her forehead in the other.

“Quit with the tone. Your writing is far from legible.”

“My writing isn’t the problem,” she grated. “Can’t you ask Rebecca to help you tomorrow?”

It was already past seven and she hadn’t left the conference room for more than a toilet break all day. She wasn’t even sure she could muster the enthusiasm to put one foot in front of the other in an effort to get to her room. The path through the lobby to the elevators seemed like a journey far too adventurous for her tired muscles, and the conference table, lined with plates and coffee mugs, was beginning to look like a suitable alternative to her bed.

“Your assistant shouldn’t even have access to these reports, let alone be able to run them. This is classified information.”

Savannah rolled her eyes. “Classified? Really?” She started massaging her forehead in an effort to steady her pulse. The gilded stick up Spencer’s ass was starting to test her anger management. “Look, all you have to do is go through the data input process slower. Read over each section. Make sure you place the right date, the right properties, and the individual income classifications. If you can’t get it right next time, I’ll do them myself tomorrow.”

The tapping of a keyboard sounded through the phone, then a whimsical, almost taunting sigh. “No need. I was just messing with you. I already finished the reporting hours ago.”

She straightened, her free hand falling helplessly to smack against the conference table. “Are you serious? You already have the report?”

“Yes, my sweet. I figured it out on the first attempt. I just wanted an excuse to speak to you.”

“You’re such adick, Spencer.”

Apart from waking with the memory of satisfying dreams, this had been a day spawned from the deepest pits of hell. She couldn’t even admit to herself that she’d hidden in the conference room all day, unable to meet the knowing looks from employees.

She had sex.

So what?

She was allowed to bang the greater Seattle population if she wanted to. It was outside business hours. It was consensual. There were no animalistic slaughters or cult-like chants of any kind.

She was a grown woman who considered the act of gossip deplorable. But the height of her annoyance stemmed from a dark place in her chest that she wished would go away.

It wasn’t the assumption of her loose morals that irked her. It was the possibility of staff exposing her bedmate. She had already been nervous that Keenan worked for a rival company, but the enemies to lovers situation wasn’t the peak of her concern. It was vanity that weighed her down. The man she had slept with was mute, and her powers of deduction had pinned him down to working in a low-level position within Grandiosity.

They came from different worlds with vastly differing income brackets. She had read the shame in his features when they discussed his employment, just like she’d started to successfully read all his other emotions.

And she hated herself for being conceited. Hated and hated and hated.

“That’s it?” Spencer shoved himself into her musings. “I wasted twenty minutes of your life and all you’re going to do is call me a dick?”

“I’m in Seattle. I can’t really spike your coffee with laxatives again.”

“Again?”

“I like to help keep you regular, Spence. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed.”

He chuckled, but the tone was sinister. “It sounds as though you’re not dealing with the stress of the settlement. Maybe I should catch the first flight tomorrow and oversee what you’re doing.”

“No.” God, no. “I can handle it myself. It’s under control.” Kind of. Sort of. Maybe not. The upcoming wedding was a constant nightmare in the back of her mind, and the mere thought of Penny made her shudder. There were numerous other things, too, but she wasn’t going to give Spencer the excuse to fly to Seattle and try to rekindle something that was dead and buried.

Her cell beeped with an incoming text from across the conference table and she reached over to grab it.

“I’ve actually made a lot of progress.” She opened the message and couldn’t control her heart as it fluttered at the sight of Keenan’s name.

Keenan: With my inability to communicate clearly, I’d appreciate if you met me in the lobby so I don’t have to Marcel Marceau my way through a charade with your receptionist.

“Oh, shit.” She pushed to her feet, the conference phone sliding toward her with the movement.

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