Page 6 of His Good Girl
She narrows her eyes suspiciously. “What did you do, Logan?”
Snorting with mirth, I shake my head. “Nothing! I swear, this time, it wasn’t me.”
Allison purses her lips. “Hmm. Fine. I’ll call down to the admin pool and have them send someone up. I’ll get an advert up online. They know us by now.” Her accusatory glare amuses me, but I try to remain serious.
“Thank you, Ally. You’re the best.”
Her face uncreases, and she preens slightly as I shorten her name and praise her. I may not enjoy being around people, but I know how to work them.
“Aww, you’re sweet,” she says, pretending to brush it off. She bustles off to find me a new assistant. Something tells me that Quentin will be messaging me any second now to fill me in on why I had to dump Dolores.
As if on cue, my phone beeps.
Picking it up, I glance at the screen.
Your new assistant will be there tomorrow.
“Great.”
He did all of this to lumber me with someone of his choosing. I don’t claim to know much about Quentin’s family. Nobody does, so this could be anyone from his son or daughter to an old family friend.
I’m pretty sure I’m not going to like it.
Nepotism usually doesn’t work out so well for everyone who has to work around the favored one. Tomorrow is going to be…fun.
Sighing, I get back to work, ignoring three calls from Shelley until lunchtime, when she calls again, I block her number.
Without a shadow of a doubt, she is going to cause trouble for me further down the line. It is something that I anticipated and will deal with when I’m not so preoccupied with Quentin’s maneuvering and my own past coming back to haunt me in a package the size of a shoebox.
* * *
At 5.30 PM, after a day of constant nagging by the temp, until I told her to get fucked and made her cry, pissing Allison off on a scale of a million when ten was the max, I head out into the cool night air, the slight drizzle cooling down my temper. I can only hope that tomorrow’s offering will be slightly more inclined to be proactive and take charge. It’s really a big turn-off when people are needy and unfocused, unable to perform the most straightforward task without guidance and handholding.
When I push open the door to my apartment fifteen minutes later, the smell of gorgeous food hits my nose. My stomach growls in protest of being ignored since the bagel at the asscrack of dawn.
Removing my coat and hanging it up to dry off the slight dampness from the rain, I head straight for the kitchen and see a post-it on the counter.
EAT!
The demand is in Rose’s handwriting and placed next to a bowl, a spoon, and a pair of oven gloves.
I chuckle, opening the oven door to pull the stew in the ceramic pot out with the gloves. Dishing up an ample portion, I pluck up the note and carry it to the dining table, where a glass and a bottle of neat single malt are waiting for me.
Grinning, I sit down to my feast, pouring some scotch into the glass and taking a small, savoring sip.
Sticking the post-it to the front of my shirt, I prop my phone up against the glass and dig in. A few seconds later, it rings for a video call.
Leaning over, I answer. “Hey, Rose.”
Her face swims onto the screen. “You eating there?”
“I am, and it’s delicious.” I make a point of bringing the spoon laden with food to my mouth so she can watch me take a bite.
Her approving nod is met with a smug one from me. “See.”
“Hmm. I’m going to sit here and watch you eat the lot, young man.”
A man’s face looms into view. “Logan,” Paddy’s gruff voice rings through the apartment. “You eating there?”
