Page 5 of Three More Shots
Even more than the two of them, the white sticker on her back windshield catches my attention. The label granting admission to the SDO parking garage. My decal. My company. My employee.
She works for me.
She’s already mine.
Chapter Two
“What’ve you got?”
I drop into the beige chair, angled across from my Vice President of Human Resources’ desk in a welcoming position for open discussion. Although, he probably doesn’t welcome my visit since me being in his office is never a good sign for him. Especially with the message I sent to him over the weekend requesting more information from the number on the decal stuck to her car.
He nods, typing furiously on his keyboard, hopefully to pull up the details I requested. “Corinne Lowell. She’s worked here for five years in Travel. Excellent performance reviews, citing her attention to detail, success in implementing cost-containment measures, and positive, helpful attitude. Looks like she’s been considered for a promotion several times, but has been passed over because she can’t meet the requirements of the role. No travel or overtime due to her daughter’s disability – Ainsley, who’s seven.”
After looking up from his screen, he tosses his readers onto his tidy desk, satisfied the report I’m sure his assistant — rather than him — gathered is what I wanted. The data is what I wanted. But it’s not enough. I need more. Much more.
“What’s wrong with her?”
Rick frowns in uncertainty and shakes his bald head, shaved in defiance of his rapidly receding hairline. “I don’t know. We don’t track that kind of information. All it shows in her file for her insurance is that she’s disabled.”
God, this is painful. “Find out.”
“I’m not really supposed to…”
I meet his eye, ensuring the gravity of my demand shows through. Or, even more important, his swift and complete response to my request should be his only priority. I know there are probably rules and regulations about privacy and protection, but I don’t give a damn.
“I’ll see what I can find out.”
“You do that.” One more thing I have to know. “Is she married?”
He glances back at his laptop, squinting without his glasses as he scans the file again. “Divorced.”
I rise from my seat. I’m done. Meeting’s over until he gets me the rest. “Let me know about Ainsley today.”
He jumps up too from my dismissive tone. “Sure. No problem.”
His hard breath blows out to my back as I stride into the hall. I must terrify his secretary as well. Her gaze drops to her papers the second I step into her line of vision. Guess she heard the conversation too, which is fine since most likely she’ll be the one doing the detective work.
I yank out my phone and scroll down to the picture Rick forwarded me earlier to confirm she’s the same woman from the coffee shop. Still gorgeous yet much more formal in the photo. Her shoulder-length hair is smooth and straight, rather than tousled like this weekend. And the way I like it. A little bit of make-up. Not too much and not plastered on like I hate. The enticing smile remains—a symbol of her positive attitude. I text my own assistant while I walk.
Does Corinne Lowell ever book my travel?
All the time. She’s the best in the department—the only one I can trust to get the itinerary correct.
Have her come see me.
Nothing.
Faye always responds instantaneously. This can’t be good.
It’s not.
My secretary stands with her arms crossed, head tilted in her meddling motherly way, outside my door, not even letting me enter my own damn office before she cross-examines me.
“Is something wrong? Did she make a mistake?”
“No. I just want to talk to her.”
“Steele?”
