Page 120 of The Stranger
That was the wrong question to ask because it brings on another bout of tears.
“The rumours going around at work. They’re even placing bets on us, Spencer.” Her eyes move to mine and the liquid that is pooling in them tugs at my heart. “The staff are placing bets on whether we are a couple.”
I bark out a laugh. “Seriously?”
“There is nothing funny about that. It could ruin everything you’ve worked so hard for.”
“I doubt falling in love with the woman of my dreams is going to ruin anything. Unless you plan on leaving me. You’re not planning that, are you?”
“No, of course not.”
“Good, because I don’t care what anyone else has to say about us. You make me happy, Delilah. Happier than I’ve ever been. If people have a problem with that, that’s athemproblem.”
“You really don’t care?”
“No. What does concern me though, is why you’re having Damien pick you up and drop you off around the corner, instead of out the front of the building?” She buries her face in my chest and weeps again. “Please stop crying,” I plead as I wrap her tightly in my arms. “It affects me greatly.”
“I’m sorry,” she blubbers into my dress shirt.
I move us over to the seat behind my desk, and once I’m seated, I pull her down onto my lap. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me what’s really going on inside that pretty little head of yours.”
“I just did.”
“So that’s your only issue? The gossiping?”
“And the stares, funny looks, but mainly the damage it’s doing to you.”
His frown lines deepen. “What stares and funny looks? By who?”
“People that work on my floor … Shay-lee.”
“Hmm.”
“I don’t want to get anyone into trouble, I just want it to stop. That’s why I need to resign.”
“I’m not accepting your resignation … I’m going to fix this.” I shift around with her still on my lap and open my inbox on the computer.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m sending out a company email.”
“Oh, God, please don’t.”
“Why?” I ask, glancing at her.
“It will just make it worse. I have to work with these people every day and they probably already think I got this job because I’m sleeping with the boss.”
“Not if I move you back up to my floor.”
“I don’t want you creating a job just for me.”
“I won’t be.” I slide my hand into my jacket and retrieve my phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“Laura.”
“Oh, no you don’t,” she says, reaching for my phone, but my reflexes are too quick for her.
