Page 24 of A Love So Deadly
Her hand hangs in the air a moment before falling to her side.
“We have work to do. Send the RSVP, and I’ll leave the other mail to answer on your desk.
And with that, I open my door and usher her out, closing it behind her.
What the fuck am I doing?
Chapter
Seven
Elliot
For the next week, I’m so busy that I don’t have time to snoop. I’m in the front office at the desk, working on a pile of files for Lucian. Every now and then I rub my finger. I think I cut it, and Lucian helped, but it’s hazy. All I know is the pull to him is powerful.
He makes me tumble inside, like there’s no anchor to the world. But I don’t feel different, act different and Lucian doesn’t touch me or do anything. There are chunks of the day where I don’t see him. He works late into the night, often starting at five or six, but the place is a hive at all hours.
Last night… I don’t even know what it was. I think I drank too much? The RSVP was for an avantgarde gallery in the gritty depths of the city where every person who showed up was clearly beyond rich. The hidden depths of the real wealth in Tenebris.
I’m not sure what I expected, but an art show wasn’t it. The only thing is that the more I try to focus in on the events, the conversations, the more it all slides away.
All I really remember is somehow winding up two blocks away from the party and walking the rest of the way home.
Slowly, I release a breath.
That was mid-week. It’s Friday now, and already this place is seeping into my life, into my dreams.
No. Not the place.
Him.
I pick up the next file and sort through the receipts, putting some into the VMR pile and others into the one labeled LV.
This is okay for surface snooping, for looking for links and a place to start, but that’s it. What I need is a block of time to search, to?—
“Elliot, can you go down to the file room and get me this.”
I bite down on the scream as he appears suddenly, holding a piece of paper out with a word on it. Silent as always, which is strange because his presence now is so strong it threatens to steal the air.
It makes me cranky. “There’s a thing called a computer.”
“Some things aren’t logged online,” he says sharply.“And you do what I ask.”
“Because you’re my boss.”
He waits a second, holding that piece of paper out until I take it, and then he flickers his cool, burning gaze over me. I’m not sure how it can be both, but it is. “Yes.”
I’m not exactly sure from that ‘yes’ that we both hold the same definitions of the word ‘boss.’
“I’ll get it done as soon as I’m finished here,” I say. “Sir.”
“No, you’ll do it now. It might be hard to find, but it’s not outside your skillset. Take all night if you need to. Come in tomorrow. I need it by eight p.m. Saturday night.”
What did he say when I had the interview? He wanted me available twenty-four/seven.
I nod.
“I’m going out. Consider this priority.”
