Page 25 of Working for the Mob

“I know,” Art said. “Can you do it? Can you bake what we need?”

His voice sounded full of desperation.

“I don’t have the training for that,” Jamie said. “We’re just … we’re between a rock and hard place right now. What are you going to do?”

“I’ll figure it out,” Art said, and paused. “What happened to …”

“Lucy?”

“No, the other one.”

“Genevieve? I don’t know. I’m sure she’s around here someplace. How’d she do this morning?” Jamie asked, and I listened through the pause. I could imagine his jaw working right now.

“She’s been a bit of a flat tire. I’m not sure if I need to be working with a self-righteous dolt,” Art said, and I stopped. The words hit me like ice water to the face. I had tried my best that morning, and that’s what he still thought of me?

A self-righteous dolt.Even after I recorded two months of transactions in one sitting, he still thought of me as a dolt?

“You’re going to run her off with that kind of talk,” Jamie said. “She’s just fallen on some hard times.’

“It's a hard time just being around her,” Art quipped, and Jamie blew air out of his mouth.

“Just be nice to her. I certainly need the help in the café.”

“You only have to deal with her sister,” Art growled, and their retreating footsteps echoed away.

???

It’s not easy to be in the same room as someone who thinks so little of you. I had asked to stay at the café, but Art made us return to his man-hole of an office after lunch. The room felt different. Instead of an open office with a window, all I could see were the mounds of paperwork and dusty bookshelves. The walls felt like they were encroaching upon me, and made it hard to breathe.

I had only made it through a tenth of the work items Art asked me to work on, but still made steady progress.

Art left me to my work and rotated calls with paperwork. He shed both his jackets, leaving little to the imagination under his translucent shirt.

I made steady progress on the transactions, until I reached a particular situation I hadn’t seen before.

I didn’t want to ask for help. I didn’t want to give Art any more reasons to consider me a dolt. I also wanted to finish transactions before Christmas.

I also didn’t want to mess this up. This was one of the first jobs I had ever been given and I needed to prove to Art that I could do it well.

I guess I would rather ask for help and get the entry right.

I waited until he was off a call, took a deep breath, and asked him.

“We had an order come through from Klayton’s, but we haven’t got paid yet. What do I do for that?” I asked Art. I had finally caught up to date on one client.

“Let me see the work order,” Art asked. He got up to walk around the table at the same time I did, but I tripped over a desk leg and ran headfirst into his hard chest. I grabbed him to steady myself and he held onto my arms as well.

He may think I’m a self-righteous dolt, but the power behind his fingers, behind his arms, it was the type of power that could hold me down on a bed and use me however they wanted. And although every cell in my brain screamedNO, every nerve ending in Miss Genevieve begged for it.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

I got caught in his gorgeous brown eyes and lost my breath. They were full of concern. And intelligence.

But I stepped away as soon as I regained my composure. His grip lasted a breath longer than I would’ve expected, and my arms longed for his hands after he let go.

I picked up the work order, and held it out to him at a full arm’s distance. I didn’t want to risk another encounter.

“It's from this week,” I said, ignoring his question.

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