Page 18 of The Confidentiality Clause
“Spilled my coffee.”
“It’s eight at night.”
“Not sure how that’s relevant.”
I turn and head toward a closet that I’m hoping has something of use inside. I rent this whole floor for privacy, but don’t use most of it, so I have no idea what could be up here.
“Why are you drinking coffee so late at night?” Her voice follows after me.
“It keeps my eyes open.”Mostly. Actually, I’m starting to wonder if I’ve drank so much that it has the reverse effect.
I open the closet door and find a vacuum that looks like it should be in a museum somewhere with how ancient it is, a bucket with questionable liquid at the bottom, and a stack of rags. That’ll do. I grab one of the stained cloths.
“Caffeine isn’t good for anxiety.”
“Then it’s a good thing I don’t have anxiety,” I say as I walk back to my office. “Why are you here, Duke?”
She follows me to my desk and sets her bag down in the chair across from mine. I begin to mop up the coffee. Thankfully, it only ruined the one contract and didn’t touch any of my electronics.
“I brought you a few things to help with the anxiety you don’t have,” she says flatly.
My lips twitch. “Should have called first. I would have saved you the trip.”
I glance up in time to see her eyes roll.
“I didn’t have to call to know you’re stubborn and indenial.”
I drop the wet rag in the trash can next to my desk. My fingers stick together, making me curl my lip in disgust.
“I’m going to wash my hands. Feel free to take your attitude elsewhere while I’m gone.”
“Aw, but then you’d miss me,” she says as I walk away.
“Very presumptuous theory. Why don’t we test it out?” I call over my shoulder. Her laughter follows me. I can’t help but smile at the sound.
After I wash the coffee off my hands, I return to find Ariel adjusting things on the shelves to the right of my desk.
“Is it your mission in life to disturb mine?” I round my desk and sink into my chair. It’s hopeless to try and be productive while she’s here, but I can at least be comfortable while waiting for her to leave.
“I’m keeping you alive.”
There’s a short beeping noise before she steps back. Soft white mist flows out of a machine on the shelf next to a framed photo of me and Shaw after we won our college hockey championship.
“I’m not dying.” I gesture to the machine. “Unless of course you’re trying to kill me by poisoning the air in my office.”
“It’s not poison, it’s lavender oil.” She walks back to the desk, her hips swaying with each step. “Also, if I was trying to kill you, I wouldn’t poison the air. Then I’d be at risk. I’d poison your food.” She smiles sweetly.
I chuckle. “Now I don’t know if I should accept food from you anymore.”
“That’s too bad, because I brought cookies.” She holds up a Ziplock bag filled with chocolate chip cookies. There aresmudges from melted chocolate chips on the plastic. My mouth starts to water.
“If I die, I’ll die happy.”
She laughs and sets the bag down on my desk. I reach inside for a cookie. They’re warm still, and the one I grab breaks in half because it’s so soft.
“Did you make these?” I ask before taking a bite. It’s buttery and sweet, with a hint of salt. I hum in appreciation.
She sits down across from me, a smile on her lips.
