Beautiful Distraction(157)

“I could meet with you tomorrow after work. Maybe around six-ish?” I offered.

A pause, then, “Let’s make it six.”

I gave him the address of a café which was on my route home, about half an hour away. Good enough not to inconvenience me, but not close enough so he could follow me in case he had stalking tendencies.

“Thank you. Have a lovely evening.” He hung up, leaving me no chance to ask him for his phone number in case I couldn’t make it.

“Weird, huh?” Sylvie said from the doorway, not even hiding the fact she had been eavesdropping.

“Hm.” I motioned her to follow me as I rushed into my room and found the envelope on my desk. With a quick flick of my wrist I tore it open, ignoring the look of dread on Sylvie’s face. When nothing blew up, she inched closer to peer over my shoulder.

I pushed the white crisp paper into her hand. “It’s just a formal letter inviting me to get in touch with them regarding urgent matters.”

Skimming the contents of the letter, Sylvie nodded slowly and then placed it on my desk. “What do you think he wants?”

“No idea. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” I couldn’t quite hide the worry in my voice.

“Do you want me to accompany you?” She trailed off, leaving the ‘in case’ part hanging between us.

I shook my head. “Looks like he is who he says he is, so I’ll be fine. It’s probably not important. Maybe I won the lottery or something.” In spite of my attempt at infusing humor to take off the heat, my voice didn’t quite manage to hide my nervousness. Luckily, Sylvie always knew when to make me feel better.

She wrapped her arm around my shoulder and leaned in conspiratorially. “Tomorrow’s your first day at the new office, huh?” I nodded, unsure where she was heading with this, and let her continue. “We never really got a chance to celebrate.”

And that’s when her intentions became clear. She wanted to party. Of course.

“Oh.”

She nodded, and a huge smile lit up her big blue eyes. “Yeah.”

I shook my head, laughing. “No, Sylvie. I can’t. Not today.”

“Just one drink. I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer.” She pursed her lips and scrunched up her face to give me a puppy look worthy of an Oscar. I knew her tricks. One drink never ever literally equaled one drink, but she was my friend, and I hadn’t seen her in two weeks. Vowing to stick with soda and be back before nine, I grinned at her. “All right. But if you get drunk, I’m not helping you home.”

“You won’t have to. You know I’m not a lightweight. Unlike you. I should text Jett to join us, just in case you need a hot guy to tuck you into bed.” She winked. “Like last time.”

“You texted him?” My cheeks flamed up.

“Someone had to invite him to join our crew. After your hot night together, I thought I was doing you a favor,” Sylvie said, sheepishly.

Oh, god.

“As my best friend, it’s your duty to ask me before making such a huge decision.” I pondered whether to be grateful, angry, or downright mortified. In the end, a mixture of all three won. “And you should have told me you got his number.”

“Well, someone had to get it for you since you didn’t have the guts to ask him about it. Thank me later.”

I stared after her, open-mouthed, as she rushed out of my room sporting a self-satisfied smirk.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX





Manhattan was abuzz with life at any given time of the day, but this morning it seemed as though half of it had gathered in the elevators of Trump Tower, waiting to be beamed up into the corporate world. Waving my temporary security clearance card, I swooshed past security, and fought my way through the crowd of expensive haircuts, tailored suits, and high-fashion accessories. At eight a.m. sharp, I pushed through the heavy glass double-door to enter the Mayfield Realties lobby, holding my head high and my back straight, even though the throbbing pain in my temples was nearly strong enough to make me puke. Of course joining Sylvie in her quest to get hammered had been a mistake, and I shouldn’t have trusted she’d stop after one drink, but as usual I had let her persuade me. And while I stayed true to my conviction to stay away from alcohol, the jet lag and subsequent lack of sleep had pretty much the same effect on me as an all-night bender. It had taken me an hour to shower, dress in one of my best suits, twist my hair up in a presentable knot, and apply makeup—enough to cover the dark circles around my eyes and the unnatural pallor of my skin, but not so much I would look like I was trying to woo the boss.