His Secretary: Undone and Unveiled (The Complete Series Collection)

by Melanie Marchande

  She always enjoys it a little too much when I do something stupid. “All right. Okay. Well, it’s too late to fix it now. I’m just trying to figure out…”

  “Once again, the simplest explanation is that Kara spilled the beans,” she says. “What are you digging for?”

  I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, anticipating her reaction. “Kara says she didn’t.”

  There’s a long silence.

  “Kara said this…when?” Her voice has gone chilly. She never liked Kara, not from the beginning, because she sniffed out something I was too dense to notice. She knows now that it was one-sided, but her hackles still go up at the thought of it.

  “She texted me earlier.” There’s no point in lying about it.

  “I thought you blocked her number.” Meg’s tone is becoming accusatory.

  “Calm down,” I tell her. “I did. It probably expired, or something.”

  “Calm down?” she repeats. “Adrian, that woman tried to ruin the sole source of joy in your life…”

  “But that’s the thing,” I cut in. “Maybe she didn’t. She brought up a pretty compelling point, Meg.”

  “What, that somebody could have followed the money trail?” She sighs. “I’m not saying that’s wrong, in theory, but it’s overcomplicating the issue.”

  “Listen - sweetheart.”

  Her breathing grows a little sharper. She hates anything that smacks of patronizing behavior, but she’s not going to snap at me, because she knows I’m already at the end of my rope.

  “I know her better than you do,” I go on. “I know that’s not something you want to hear right now - or ever - but I never really knew her to be vindictive or deceitful until…”

  Meg speaks up. “Until I came along?”

  Well, yes.

  “I’m not blaming you,” I insist. “She didn’t need to be so hostile. But she was absolutely right about it being a crazy scheme, even if her reasons for disliking your presence were maybe more…personal in nature.”

  Meg sighs heavily. “I have to go. If Bob finds out you’ve been talking to her, he’s going to kill you.”

  “None of this is relevant to the case,” I point out. “But if Kara can be trusted, that means one more character witness to depose in front of Mike Morgan. The more we can stack the deck against him, the more likely he is to drop the lawsuit.”

  “Can we talk about this later?” Because I’m about to start flipping out on you, is the unspoken implication.

  “Sure,” I tell her, as my headache grows to new proportions. “Of course.”

  Two Years Ago

  The minute I walk in the front doors, I know something’s wrong.

  There’s nobody at Cora’s desk, and the security guards are milling around in a quiet buzz of confusion. Immediately, the worst possible explanation pops into my mind, but I refuse to acknowledge it.

  “Where the hell is she?” I demand, striding towards them. They jerk their heads up like startled animals.

  “We’re not sure, Mr. Risinger,” says one of them. “We’ve been calling. She won’t pick up. It’s not like her.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” I snap. “Why didn’t someone contact me?”

  One of the guards scratches the back of his neck. “We weren’t sure if it was an emergency,” he mumbles. “She’s only…forty-five minutes…”

  Fuck. Fuck.

  “Is Ms. Burns in yet?” I demand.

  “Ten minutes ago,” I’m informed, but I’m already halfway out the door, so I don’t know which one of the incompetents said it. As I run after a taxi, I bring up Cora’s number and dial. It rings twenty times before I hang up.

  She always refuses to use voicemail. Says if it’s important, they’ll call again.

  I pay a premium towncar service a fortune to stay on call for me, but I already know it’s going to take too long. Traffic is brutal today. I’m better off in a cab I can get now.

  Once I’m creeping down the road, my cabbie happily leaning on his horn every few seconds to voice his general disapproval with the situation, I call Meg. I have a board meeting in thirty minutes, and it’s going to take me at least that long to get across town and check on Cora.

  “Mr. Risinger? Where the hell are you?” Meg hisses. “They’re going to be here any minute.”

  “I got held up. Listen.” I glare at the traffic, like I could dissolve it with the power of my gaze alone. “I need you to stall for me. Vamp. Keep them entertained. Coffee, laced with bourbon if necessary, mimosas, put in an order for a breakfast spread - whatever it takes.”

  “I can’t,” she breathes, panicked. “Are you fucking kidding me? Just get your ass over here.”

  “Don’t talk to your boss like he’s your goddamn delinquent nephew,” I growl. “You better hope I never fire you, nobody else is going to put up with your acid tongue.”

  “Nobody ever says you have an acid tongue,” she snaps. “Congratulations on being born with a penis, it must be so nice.”

  “It comes in handy from time to time.” She’s almost successfully made me forget about why I’m in this cab right now, but then it all comes crashing down the next moment. A heavy dread settles in the pit of my stomach. “Meghan, just do this for me. Please.”

  I must have sounded sincere, because her tone softens the next time she speaks. “Mr. Risinger, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, I hope.” I pause as the cabbie rolls down his window to scream a creative series of insults at a passing bicyclist. “But I’m not sure.”

  “Does it have anything to do with Cora not being here?” There’s a shuffling noise, and some tap-tapping. “Don’t worry, I’m already messaging that girl at the bistro who catered the thing last month - you know, the one who was humping your leg.”

  “I don’t recall that,” I tell her. “But thanks. The partners did love those crullers. Should keep the vultures occupied.”

  “Well?” she says, after another moment. “Is it Cora? Is everything okay?”

  I shake my head, out of habit. Usually, when we talk, we’re face-to-face. “I don’t know, Meghan. I have no idea. That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

  “Shit.” She exhales a puff of air. “What about her emergency contact?”

  “Doesn’t have one. It’s been a point of conflict before.”

  “But what about her kids? Grandkids?”

  “None of them are close by.” I’m cursing my decision to allow that whole situation to slide, but what the hell was she supposed to do? She couldn’t force her family to move back in with her. Now, though, I feel responsible.

  “Well, sorry. I figured you were trying to shake a really clingy one-night-stand, or something.” She sucks in a breath through her teeth. “I’ll do my best with the sharks. Text me when you find out something, okay?”

  I hang up without saying goodbye, because it’s suddenly really goddamn irritating how she sometimes talks to me so casually, like we’re friends.

  She’s the closest thing to a friend I have. But I can’t. Those moments when I let myself put my guard down, when I actually start to feel close to her, I know I’m in danger of slipping back into old habits. The feelings I used to have, the ones that almost drove me to do something very, very stupid.

  It’s much easier this way.

  After a few ominous rumblings in the sky, by the time I reach Cora’s apartment, the rain is coming down in sheets. I ask the cabbie to wait, and he just shrugs, pulling out a crossword puzzle.

  I don’t know whether I’m hoping it’ll be quick, or not. I don’t know what that means. I have no idea what I’m walking into.

  The place is falling apart. And the smell. Jesus. Does Cora really live here? For how long? Surely she could afforded nicer digs on a Risinger Industries salary, after so many years of good service. A few of Cora’s neighbors are hunkered down in the stairwell, arguing with each other sharply; they glance at me as I step around them, but they don’t stop.

  “I swear to fucking God
, Jimmy, that’s exactly what you did. Uh huh. Uh huh. Don’t you fucking shake your head at me…”

  The matted-down industrial carpet outside of Cora’s front door is immaculate. I picture her coming out here with one of those ridiculous little rug-sweeper things, and I smile tightly.

  She’s fine. She must be fine. Maybe she just got some kind of minor injury she couldn’t recover from on her own, just a little fracture in her leg, with the phone out of reach. She’s never seemed like the type to subscribe to LifeAlert.

  I know, I know it didn’t need to be me who came here. I could’ve sent Meghan, could’ve sent anybody, could’ve delegated the situation to any number of people. I’m being irresponsible, because despite what my secretary thinks of me, I actually am a real human being with real human feelings. Occasionally.

  But if something has happened to her, I need to be here.

  I knock. Once, twice, three times. There’s no bell. After a few minutes, I resort to calling her name through the crack of the door. It doesn’t really occur to me that I could be disturbing anyone, after I had to step over two probable meth dealers to get here, but then someone taps on my shoulder.

  “Sir, you gotta keep it down,” says a tired-eyed man, who is teetering off the far end of middle age. “What’s wrong? You looking for Miss Cora?”

  “She works for me,” I explain, trying to push down the worry in my chest. “She didn’t show up to work, and we’ve been calling all morning. It’s not like her - I just, I wanted to make sure nothing’s happened to her.”

  “Probably slept in,” he grunts. “Sorry, sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

  “She doesn’t sleep in,” I insist. “Please, can you just…check on her?”

  “Call the police for a welfare check if you want,” he says, shrugging. “But I got enough potential lawsuits crawling up my ass without entering somebody’s apartment without permission. And don’t bother pulling out your wallet, either.”

  “Thanks,” I mutter, pulling out my phone instead. Stupid me, thinking a slumlord would be open to bribery.

  I’ve never been a praying man, but as I dial, I silently make a small plea to the universe that my worst suspicions are wrong.

  It seems to take forever for the police to show up, even though I shamelessly name-dropped the chief until they promised they’d send someone “right away.” Watching them walk up the stairs, it’s like they’re in slow motion.

  “Just a couple hours late, you say?” one of the cops is asking, looking like he’d rather he anywhere but here. His partner is alternately knocking on the door and calling out her name, same as I did, but I guess he’s legally allowed to make a noise disturbance.

  “She’s punctual to a fault,” I tell him. “And she doesn’t have any family around here. I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

  “You did the right thing,” the other officer assures me. He turns to the superintendent, or whatever he is, who’s still lurking in the background. “Sir, you have a key to this residence?”

  “Yeah,” he mutters, reaching for the loop on his belt and wrenching it free to hand over.

  Taking the key, the officer looks to his partner, who nods.

  “Okay. We’re going to open the door,” he says, addressing me. “You might want to stay out here. We’ll call you in if we need to.”

  I don’t know what that means, but I have a blanket policy of not arguing with somebody who has a loaded gun.

  “Ma’am?” he calls, as he pushes the door open. “Ma’am, this is the police. We’re just here to make sure that you’re okay. Ma’am, if you can hear me, please acknowledge.”

  He repeats the script a few times as he slowly advances through the house, disappearing down the hallway. Then, he falls silent.

  I stand there, just hearing the sound of my own heartbeat, my own breathing.

  If I’m not going inside, then why the hell did I even come here?

  But I can’t bring myself to do it. I just stand there, waiting, as one of the officers comes back out. He’s got an expression on his face that makes his next words unnecessary, but I’m still not ready to accept it, so I listen.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” he says.

  That’s all.

  He’s sorry.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  MEG

  After I hang up with Adrian, I just sit on a barrel of donated kibble for a while, and think.

  I always knew Kara would try to weasel her way back into his life. Adrian doesn’t seem to understand that she can’t be trusted. The way she used to look at me - what makes him think her feelings have changed at all? I’m beyond furious that she tried to contact him, and only slightly less furious that he actually responded.

  Of course, if he’s describing the financial situation accurately, then Kara’s not wrong. Someone could have found out that way. It wouldn’t be particularly difficult. All it would take was one or two people still at the company who disliked Mr. Risinger enough to jeopardize their integrity, and I could easily see that happening. Hell, there were certain days with him where I would’ve seriously considered participating in a sting operation. But Mike Morgan is a scumbag. If they knew they were allying themselves with him, they’re as bad as he is.

  I just don’t see why he trusts Kara at all. So he’s known her longer. Whatever. He can’t see the forest for the trees, but I know what she’s really like.

  I came to work so I could clear my head, but now I’m going back down the insanity spiral.

  “Hey, Meg?”

  Startled out of my thoughts, I look up to see Shelly, the owner, poking her head in the door.

  “Yeah. Sorry.” I clear my throat, standing up. “I’m just, uh…”

  “A million miles away,” she supplies. “The last time I saw you like this, you were lovesick over that Adrian.”

  To her, he’s always “that Adrian.” I manage to smile a little. “I’m okay. There’s just…some stuff. I’m stressed out. I probably shouldn’t talk about it.” I actually have no idea if Adrian’s lawyer would care, but Bob scares the living daylights out of me. Which I figure is a halfway decent quality in a litigator, but it makes me overly cautious.

  “Oooh, top secret.” Shelly folds her arms across her chest. “You want to go home early, or would you rather hide out here to escape it all?”

  “Neither, really,” I admit.

  “Uh oh.” She sits down next to me. “Trouble at home, huh?”

  “Sort of. Not really. Yes?” I shake my head. “I don’t know, but if I go home now I’m going to yell at him, and he really doesn’t need to be yelled at right now.”

  She laughs. “That’s very considerate of you. Maybe just cut out early and go somewhere else. Throw some birdseed to the ducks in the pond. Hang out at the library. We have plenty of help, go take it easy for a while.”

  It’s tempting, but if I switch off thoughts of the lawsuit, I immediately start thinking about my dad instead. I can’t figure out a way to escape both problems, except for dealing with one of them. And since the lawsuit is out of my control…

  “Thanks, Shelly,” I tell her. “I think I will go relax somewhere for a little bit.”

  “Just breathe, honey,” she calls after me as I walk out.

  My heart starts hammering faster as I pull my phone out of my pocket again and pull up the number.

  It only rings once.

  “Hi…Dad?”

  It’s been less than a year since I last saw my father, but it feels like ten.

  He’s aged. I never noticed it when I saw him all the time, but now, with longer and longer gaps between our visits, it suddenly seems to be happening so fast. He’s got dark circles under his eyes, but he smiles when he sees me, hugging me tightly and briefly making me forget everything that’s wrong.

  We used to be close. Years and years ago, when I had trouble getting along with the other kids in the neighborhood because I was too thoughtful, too awkward, too different. He would always make the time to
play with me. It sounds corny to even admit it to myself, but he was my best friend. His imagination was almost as lively as mine, and even nowadays, with the perspective of an adult, I’d still look back and swear that he loved playing make-believe almost as much as I did.

  Although I rarely saw him confront my mother to her face, he was always there after the storm had passed, assuring me that I was really a good kid, honest, that my mom was just overwhelmed with everything and I shouldn’t let it get to me. Easy for him to say, of course. He could stay late at work, escaping her as much as possible, while all I could do was hide in my room and cry. I wasn’t allowed to have a lock on my door.

  “So,” my dad says, sitting down with his drink in hand. The happy chatter of the coffee shop around us almost makes this feel normal. “How have you been?”

  Oh man, where the hell do I start?

  “Great,” I tell him. “You know. The last year got a little crazy.”

  “Why did you elope to Hawaii?”

  Great, we’re starting in with the heavy-hitting questions already. “That wasn’t the plan. Adrian just…” I manage not to blush. “…surprised me.”

  My dad takes in a deep breath, and exhales, slowly. I’ve known him for long enough to tell when he wants to say something, but doesn’t.

  “What?” I prod him.

  “Nothing,” he says. “Just…I’m glad you’re happy. You’re obviously very much in love with him.”

  “And you don’t approve.”

  He chuckles. “Meg, don’t make me sound like I’m from the eighteen-hundreds. I know you don’t need my approval.”

  “You know what I mean.” I hate it when he talks around in circles.

  “Of course I’m happy for you,” he says. “I have no problem with it, just so long as…”

  I wish he’d just spit it out.