Page 12 of The Confidentiality Clause
“Either tonight or first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll return in two days. I’ll also need a reservation at the nicest steakhouse available for tomorrow evening.”
I had hoped that my client, Dawson Reeves, would be able to secure his spot as the face of an up-and-coming athletic sock brand based on merit alone. But apparently, this start-up needs a meeting to determine if he’s the right fit. Dawson can tend to stick his foot in his mouth, so I figured it would be best to be with him at the dinner that will secure both of our futures.
“On it. Also, you have a package waiting for you on my desk. I believe it’s some sort of food delivery, though I didn’t order it for you.”
I frown. Who would send food–
I hang my head. Ariel. The era of peace is officially over.
I push up from my desk and stalk out to where Marie sits. She looks at me over her turquoise glasses as I approach.
“The woman who brought it didn’t look like a typical delivery person. She was wearing a pencil skirt and expensive shoes.”
Yep, that’s Ariel. My mind flashes to the first night she brought food to my office. Her long legs propped up on my desk. She’s not one to be underdressed.
“She’s a…friend of mine.”
Marie raises a pencil-thin brow. “Do I need to put thisfriend’snumber on my list of high priority people?”
My instinct is to say no, that way Marie doesn’t get any ideas. Unfortunately, it would be helpful if Ariel’s calls always came through. I could give her my office number, and then she would have no reason to call Sutton because Marie could inform her of my whereabouts.
“Yes.” I sigh. “Put her on there. Her name is Ariel Cambridge.”
I grab the bag and head back to my office to avoid Marie’s curious gaze. Once back in the safety of my office–ignoring the fact that most of my walls are glass–I inspect the bag. The logo on the front is from a local burger joint that’s delicious. Stapled next to it is a purple sticky note.
Ten minutes. No work. –Duke
I open the bag to find a large burger with a label that says no pickles, and a side of onion rings. She remembered my order? She must have, because asking Sutton would have given away our agreement. An uncomfortable warmth fills my chest. I know we spent plenty of time together in high school, and even some in college during breaks, but it’s weird to think she paid attention enough to know what my go-to order is. Though, I guess I remember hers too, only because she orderedextrapickles instead of none, and liked to get fries but steal one of my onion rings when she thought I wasn’t looking.
I unwrap the burger. My computer dings with a news alert about one of my clients. I sigh and put all my devices on ‘Do Not Disturb’. Ten minutes is nothing. I can take ten minutes for lunch. Most people waste even more time than that.
I take a bite of my cheeseburger.
What if that news alert was something major? They could have been injured or gotten into trouble.
Another bite.
I was supposed to call Felix back today about him participating in the Pilates event. I should probably call him soon since he’s in a time zone two hours ahead of me.
My leg starts to bounce.
I went to bed with unanswered emails. I’m already behind. Every minute counts.
I go to grab an onion ring but reach for my phone instead. The knot in my chest eases as soon as I turn my notifications back on.If someone needs me, now I’ll know. I can eat lunch and leave my phone on.
As I’m looking at the news alert, my phone buzzes.
Ariel: How long did you last?
My stomach sinks. I could lie, but I lie to everyone else enough as it is. She bought me lunch. She deserves a little honesty.
Brock: Maybe three minutes.
Bubbles pop up. I wait for her to say this isn’t worth it. I’m not worth the trouble.
Ariel: Try for four minutes tomorrow.
I stare at my phone, feeling like there’s food stuck in my throat. My eyes sting, and I blink a few times.Pathetic. I’m stronger than this. What kind of person gets emotional over a text?
