Caine responded with a stiff smile and then he slowly retreated and strode off.
I got in my car and drove out of there, wondering why the hell I couldn’t let this go, why I had to push my way into his life, just so I didn’t have to deal with my own. I wasn’t sure about anything anymore. The only thing I was starting to predict was that if I did by some miracle find a way to make Caine see who I really was, I was almost positive that I wasn’t going to come out of it unscathed.
CHAPTER 8
My prediction started coming true almost immediately. That Monday when I returned to work, Caine was back to his usual charming, clipped, and cool self. It was like Saturday had never happened. I had to admit it hurt.
And I really didn’t want to feel that way.
He made it easier to turn the hurt into irritation when he complained that his latte was a soy latte (it definitely was not) and told me that I needed to stop stapling paperwork together and learn how to use a paper clip.
I’d learn how to use a paper clip all right, but only after I used the staple one last time to shut him up permanently. Yeah, I said it!
“Said what?” Caine snapped.
That was when I realized I’d let the latter half of the conversation with myself slip out of my mouth. “Uh …” I stared down at him, trying to think fast. “That you’re so right.” I reached out and grabbed the paperwork from him. “I’ll just go remove the staples for you.”
I thought that was a pretty crappy start to the day. However, it wasn’t until lunchtime when things really started to go bad.
I was in the middle of typing up my squiggly notes from Caine’s meetings that morning when I heard Henry call out my name. He was striding down the hall toward me and when he came to a stop, he perched himself on the edge of my desk and gave me a soft smile. “Good afternoon, beautiful.”
Over the last few weeks I’d come to like Henry. He was the opposite of Caine. He was all friendly and flirtatious and laid-back. Henry worked for his father’s offshore bank, traveled a lot, and overall seemed to enjoy life way more than Caine did. He oozed charm and contentment, and I had to admit he did a lot to soothe my Caine-related wounded pride and self-esteem.
I relaxed back in my chair and smiled up at him, pleased to see him. “Good afternoon, handsome. How was your weekend?”
“Not as interesting as yours. I heard you dined with the queen.”
I laughed. “Effie? Yeah, she’s awesome.”
Henry threw his head back in laughter. “Effie? Mrs. Flanagan lets you call her by her first name. I’m sure Caine was delighted by that.”
I rolled my eyes. “What’s the big deal?”
“Believe it or not, Mrs. Flanagan is a hard nut to crack. She and I are not on a first-name basis and she’s spent the last five years denying me access to her baking.” He pouted comically. “I’m not a big fan of rejection.”
Amused, I tsked. “There must be a reason for her rejection.”
“She says I’m a ne’er-do-well, and until I settle down and act like a real man she wants nothing to do with me.”
“That’s not fair. I’d say Mr. Carraway is as much of a ne’er-do-well as you.”
“Thank you!” He nodded in agreement. “That is my argument exactly.” He leaned closer. “Maybe you could put in a good word since she’s taken such a shine to you.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Henry smiled and stood up. “Have I told you recently how happy I am that Caine hired you?”
“No, but it would be helpful if you tell him that.” I pressed the call button to Caine’s office.
“What?” he grumped on the loudspeaker, and Henry grinned at my answering grimace.
“Mr. Lexington is here to see you.”
“Send him in.”
I gestured to the door. “His Majesty awaits.”
He nodded. “Thank you, beautiful.”
The heavy door shut behind him and yet I heard Henry ask, “Someone in a mood?”
The speakerphone. Caine had left it on. I opened my mouth to tell him when he returned with “I don’t remember the last time I was in a good mood. Oh, right … the pre-Alexa days.”
My mouth shut, my skin hot and prickling with hurt, embarrassment, and annoyance. It was one thing for him to be grouchy and insulting to my face, but to talk about me with other people. Not nice.
“Oh, well, you must be an idiot, then,” Henry responded cheerily. “I find her delightful. In fact, I find Alexa so delightful I’m asking her to the Andersons’ Anniversary Ball on Saturday.”
I clamped a hand over my mouth to smother my gasp.