Page 15 of The Stranger
“To my meeting.”
“I’m not going with you.”
“You work for me now, Miss St. James, so yes, you are!”
“I actually came here to tell you I’m not going to take you up on your offer.”
“Well, that’s a moot point, considering I just hired you.”
“I never accepted.”
“Semantics … we can discuss this when we get back. I’m already running late.” He turns and starts walking towards the elevator. When I don’t follow, he glances over his shoulder. “I don’t have all day, Delilah. And put your jacket back on. I can see the outline of your lace bra through that flimsy blouse.”
I fold my arms over my chest, and I hear him chuckle as he stabs the button to summon the lift.
“Ugh!”
Chapter 6
Spencer
Ipull out my phone and send off a quick text to my lawyer. I pride myself on punctuality, so I’m annoyed that I won’t be there when I said I would.
Me: I’m running late. I’m in the car now. I should be there in twenty … traffic permitting.
Logan: No rush. I’ve booked out the entire morning for you.
Me: Thanks, I appreciate it.
After sliding my phone back into my pocket, I glance over at Delilah, who is seated on the far side of the back seat—the furthest position from me. Her dainty hand is gripping the door handle as if she’s planning to flee as soon as my driver stops at the next set of traffic lights.
I lean forward in my seat. “Damien, can you put up the privacy screen and lock the back doors, please?”
He eyes me with suspicion through the rearview mirror before nodding and doing as instructed. I canunderstand his confusion. I travel with my assistant regularly, and this is a request I’ve never asked of him before.
Delilah’s pretty blue eyes widen as her head snaps in my direction. “Are you kidnapping me?” she squeaks.
I can’t help it. As irritated as I am, I bark out a laugh. “No, I’m simply saving you from doing something stupid, like jumping out of a moving vehicle into the path of oncoming traffic.”
“I would never! I may be blonde, but I’m not an idiot.”
My eyes move to her hair. It’s the first time I’ve seen it down. It’s usually pulled back into a ponytail or messy bun. It’s longer and fuller than I expected. It looks like spun silk, and I feel like a creep for wanting to run my fingers through it.
Jailbait, Prescott,I remind myself again.
“I never said you were,” I retort.
It’s only then she releases her stranglehold on the door handle and settles back into her seat. “How long is the meeting going to take, anyway? I have things to do and places to be?”
I arch a brow. “Like?”
“I brought my resume with me today, so I’m planning on walking around the city when we get back to see if I can conjure up an interview.”
“You’re serious about not working for me?”
She bows her head and stares down at her lap. “Yes.”
“Can I ask why?”
