Page 32 of Grumpy Boss's Secret

Stealing secrets. I was a thief, after all.

Finally, I'd done it. I reached the last page, adjusted the document so that everything was in the same place it had been when I found it and hid the internet pages. Now I just had to get out of there and hope the computer went to sleep again before Ian returned.

Tucking my phone in my pocket as if filled with liquid gold, I approached the door.

Voices again. I froze. Ian. One of them was definitely Ian.

"Oh no, no, no," I mouthed, feeling hot and cold.

"It's extraordinary, I'm telling you," said another voice. Larry.

“I believe you,” said Ian.

“You want to come see it?” said Larry.

Yes. Yes, Ian. Go see it. Go see the thing.

“No, I should really get back to work.”

I bit my lip, looking around the office, wondering if there was somewhere I could hide.

“Come on. It won’t take more than a couple of minutes.”

I listened with bated breath. My hands were slick with sweat.

“All right, a couple of minutes,” Ian said. “It’s hard to say no to you, Larry.”

“That’s what they all tell me,” Larry said.

Their voices retreated down the hallway toward Larry's office.

“Larry,” I whispered. “I love you.”

I waited a few seconds, then peered out of the sidelight. No one was in the hallway. I opened the door silently, rushed out, and gently shut it behind me. I started along the hallway, walking away from Larry's office as casually as possible. It was a dead end.

“Oh, no,” I whispered. I glanced behind me. No one was visible in the hallway, but I could hear Ian and Larry’s voices again.

“I guess it was a pretty tiny thing after all,” I muttered.

There was an unmarked door in front of me. I ripped it open. Broom closet. Okay, fine. I stepped inside and shut the door, taking deep breaths. I heard Ian and Larry part ways in the hallway and the sound of Ian's door closing. Slowly, my heart stopped pounding. I stood there in the dark, smelling Lysol and the moldy aroma of an old mop, and a grin spread across my face.

Ian was Kirk.

Chapter Thirteen

I was stuck in that broom closet for hours; I didn't dare leave. I would have to walk right past Ian's office. He would see me. He would know there was nowhere I could go except the broom closet. Sitting on the ground in the dark, I played matching games on my phone, craving the tuna sandwich to be my dinner instead of my lunch. Not to mention the fact that my butt was now covered in dust. No, there was no escaping my small dark prison until everyone had gone home for the day.

My poor tuna sandwich. My book was unread, and my undrunk second cup of coffee. My poor stomach. Who cared, really?

"Ian is Kirk," I whispered. I couldn't really believe it. Obviously, it was true; it had to be. But I felt like I'd been hit by a locomotive. I wasn't able to grasp the reality of it yet. I knew those pictures of his book were waiting for me on my phone. I was itching to read them but also afraid to. Was it really me he was writing about? Would I be able to know?

“Does…” I whispered, staring ahead into the darkness of the closet. “Does he love me?”

I bit my lip and closed my eyes.

“Short brown hair,” I mouthed. “Green eyes. An impish smile. That’s me. It’s got to be me.”

I told myself to slow down. I may have inspired a character, but that didn't mean he loved me. J.R.R. Tolkien didn't love Frodo Baggins but wrote three long books about him anyway. But still.

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