He didn’t look up from his notes.
“By future, do you mean the leadership of the company?”
He paused and looked back up at her. “If that’s a question you’d like to answer.”
“If I knew why you were asking the question, I could give a better answer.”
He blinked as if he’d not been expecting her to bring any questions to him. “The reason for this question is what it appears. You have a complete stranger coming in and changing the future of your company. You don’t want a voice in what that decision is based on?”
She crossed her arms. “I didn’t say that. I just wanted to make sure that this was about more than just who’s going to run the company.”
Mr. Fortescue sighed. “It was a question intentionally left open-ended,” he said as he turned his attention to his notes.
Cindy took this as her cue to give her answer before she irritated the man who could potentially become her boss’s boss. “I think that the future of this company is bigger than just who will be the face of it, who will make the day-to-day decisions. We need someone who is able to be creative and flexible when facing the challenges of modern-day publishing.”
Mr. Fortescue’s pen zipped over the page as he scribbled down his notes.
“May I ask you a question?”
His eyes widened in surprise. She suspected not very many people had asked questions, too eager to return to work. Almost immediately, his eyes became wary as if he worried about what kind of question she would think to ask him. “I suppose.”
“I see the disapproving looks you keep giving me. Richard thinks it’s because you’re protective. I’m not so sure.”
Alastair Fortescue sat back in the office chair as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. He was clearly pondering his answer, and she found she didn’t mind that he was so careful to respond. It was good to be aware of the power of words and how they might impact a person before allowing them to escape one’s mouth.
She just hated how nervous his processing made her feel at this moment.
“Richard doesn’t have a great track record with women. I don’t mean that he’s likely to hurt you. I mean, that he likely finds women who will hurt him, one way or another.”
She swallowed. “So, your dislike of me is because you think I’m going to hurt him.”
“Haven’t you already? The whole company thinks you’re the only person he’s listening to right now. That could have far more significant consequences than you think.”
“Would you feel this way if he was interested in anyone he works with?”
Shame pooled in her stomach, and it was hard to maintain a professional appearance. How had she not realized that? If Richard was supposed to be the one with his ear to the ground so that he could provide important counsel and support to Alastair Fortescue, maybe she had done more to damage his reputation than she’d thought.
“Perhaps,” Mr. Fortescue said as if conceding a technicality.
“But what about how this is impacting me?” The question burst out of her before she had a chance to contain it. “Don’t get me wrong. Richard and his reputation is important to me too, but if you’re so concerned about his, why aren’t you considering mine?”
He held her gaze. “I am.”
She swallowed as she realized with sudden nausea that he had also overheard her personal opinion about the leadership of the company.
“Margaret Stone is not pleased. She’s tried to hide it, but I’m good at reading people and situations.”
Margaret had heard?
Cindy felt faint.
“And hearing that I had a different candidate in mind for this promotion, someone from outside the building...”
“I’d watch out if I were you.”
She didn’t have to finish her train of thought for him to know what she had been about to say.
Cindy trembled in the chair. For the first time in her adult life, she would give anything to leave work right now and see her mother.
“Miss Ash, I’m sorry if you thought I was somehow disapproving of you. I just think that business and pleasure are strange bedfellows.”
She nodded slowly, her mind still reeling as she processed. “Were there, uh, any more questions?”
“Maybe we should reschedule the rest of this interview,” he said softly.
She swallowed down the beginnings of bitter tears and stood, woodenly thanking him for the interview.
Then, she walked out to her desk.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Cindy was still numb as she did what she could to finish her responsibilities. Still, her mind kept returning to Mr. Alastair’s words. Margaret was livid, perhaps even angrier than Cindy had ever seen her. More than that, he worried that Cindy wasn’t just ruining Richard’s life. He worried that Richard was ruining hers.
Why hadn’t she seen that either?
Because you didn’t want to, her mind chided her softly. Richard was a nice little fantasy in the back of your mind.
But why was Richard so appealing? Yes, he was attractive. Yes, he was generally kind and generous. She’d seen that as he had interacted with the other members of the staff. He’d brought two dozen donuts to the break room on his first day with the staff. To her knowledge, he hadn’t touched them himself except to offer them to someone else.
And then, she remembered how quickly he had noticed Margaret’s abuse, how quickly he had reminded her that she was better than Margaret made it seem and how wrong Margaret was to treat her in that way.
She didn’t really need a knight in shining armor most days, but it had felt pretty nice to have one around.
She swallowed. If she’d known how the scene in the break room would end up, would she have avoided Richard’s question?
No, she admitted to herself. She wouldn’t have changed a thing. She just would have asked if they could leave the building instead of waiting to see if the rest of the staff had heard his rather loud pronouncement.
“Excuse me?”
She looked up to find a slender young woman in jeans and a button-down shirt looking at her over a glass vase with three red roses standing in water with a bow tied around the neck of the vase. “Yes?”
“I have a delivery for Cindy Ash.”
Cindy straightened. “I’m Cindy Ash.”
The young woman offered her the flowers with a smile. “Well, that was easy.”
Cindy just blinked as she set the flowers on her desk. She caught a glimpse of the card which piqued her curiosity. “Uh, thank you.”
She reached down for her purse. Was she supposed to tip a delivery person?
The young woman winked. “Don’t worry about it. It’s been taken care of!”
Cindy’s eyes dropped her purse. “Uh, right. Thanks again.”
“Sure thing.”
Cindy sank into her chair and retrieved the card.
“Who are they from?” Gillian asked as if she had appeared out of nowhere.
Cindy read the card at least three times as if she couldn’t make out its meaning.
I should have talked to you about Charlotte somewhere other than work. I’m sorry if this causes any trouble for you with the boss. Consider this a peace offering before dinner tonight. - Richard
Cindy showed her friend the card.
A smile spread on Gillian’s face. “And you were giving me grief for my interest.”
Cindy’s face flushed as she looked at the flowers on her desk. She had absolutely no way to hide the attraction from her best friend at least.
She dropped the card into her purse as Margaret’s door opened. “Cindy, may I have a word?”
The color must have drained from her face because Gillian offered her an attempt at a supportive smile.
Cindy inhaled as she stood, her legs feeling so shaky that she nearly fell backward once.
Your mother will welcome you back home, she reminded herself. If you lose your job, you could live with your mom.
A strange sens
e of calm settled over her, and she walked with her head held high into Margaret’s office.
The door closed almost immediately after Cindy entered the room. The sound surprised Cindy, and she felt adrenaline kick into her system about the time Margaret revealed herself. “Have a seat,” she said as she calmly walked behind her desk.
Cindy did as she was asked, sitting in a carefully polished wooden armchair in front of the mahogany desk.
Margaret’s face was placid as she spoke. “Mr. Fortescue has informed me that Mr. Prince will be staying on a little longer. The outburst from the break room which disrupted everyone’s afternoon reminds me that he will need an office of his own.”
Cindy merely nodded. There was something about Margaret’s perfect calmness that made it so much worse to have her mention the situation.
As if she could sense Cindy’s pain, Margaret offered her a slight twinge of a smile. “I’d like you to arrange it.”
Cindy’s brow furrowed. “You want me to call maintenance to move the furniture?”
Margaret shook her head. “No.”
A sick feeling grew in the pit of Cindy’s stomach. This. This was what she had been afraid of. This was what Alastair Fortescue had been warning her about.
“I think he needs to have an office near where we are.” She handed Cindy a floorplan of the offices.
She circled one of the rooms past the break room. “The furniture from this empty office needs to move into the current file room.”
Cindy’s voice jumped nearly an octave. “The file room?”
At least fourteen file cabinets lined the room with a single table in the room where one could read a manuscript or a contract and then refile. Normally, people were pretty respectful of the space, but she imagined it hadn’t been touched other than the occasional single file retrieval or addition.
The mere idea of the filing cabinets made her body ache. She would have to use a dolly, of course, but even so the task seemed daunting. The years since the file cabinets had been moved would mean a great deal of dusting in order to make it presentable as an office before tomorrow.
She glanced discreetly toward the clock. 4:37 pm.
She had just a little over twenty minutes left on her work day.
Margaret’s voice dripped with false sympathy. “I know that this is a big task. Mr. Fortescue, himself, wondered if it wasn’t too big a task, but I shook my head and told him that he was underestimating you.”
Cindy’s heart sank. “You told him that I could do it?”
Margaret imitated the look Cindy remembered receiving from an infinitely more sincere Charlotte LaRoche. “Of course I did. Cindy, if there’s one thing you’ve taught us over and over again, it’s that you can do anything.”
The smile melted into total disdain. “You’re an asset I believe to be indispensable to this company. I’ll need someone like you around here when management of this company is handed to me permanently.”
“Permanently?” Cindy echoed.
“Why do you think Mr. Prince’s stay has been extended? It’s to ease the transition and to make sure that things are going according to plan.”
She leaned in even closer as she whispered. “And I don’t intend to give up this position without a fight.”
Margaret turned her attention to straightening up her desk as she did at the end of the day, and Cindy knew without another spoken word that it was time for her to get to work.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I should have gone home to change.” Cindy groaned as she pushed the filing cabinet back enough so that she could actually get the metal plate of the dolly underneath it. Though she’d already kicked off her heeled boots and dug a hair tie from her purse so she could put her hair up, the wide-legged slacks were making this task far more difficult than it should have been.
“But no, I had to go and try to get this done before my date tonight.” Cindy’s tone was mocking as she talked to herself.
She pushed the filing cabinet down the corridor and dropped it outside its new home which, of course, was still filled with the desk, chair, and so forth from the so-called empty office.
She wiped her brow as she rested a moment against the dolly. She glanced down at her watch and groaned. 5:45 pm.
She’d only managed to move two of the filing cabinets so far.
It was going to be a long night.
She pushed the dolly back to the filing room, and began the work all over again.
“What on earth are you doing?” Richard’s tenor voice demanded from the doorway as she hefted the heavy cabinet into the right position so she could slide the foot of the dolly under it.
She turned to the door to see him quickly shed his tweed jacket and head toward her. “My job.”
She grunted and pressed against the cabinet.
As she felt his arms encircle the large metal box, she felt it give way under her. “Wait!”
But it was too late.
The cabinet missed her foot, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
She walked to the other side of the filing cabinet to try and confront him. “What are you thinking?”
She wasn’t sure what happened next. Maybe it was that her pant hem had gotten caught under the filing cabinet. Maybe it was some other unfortunate accident that she could no more describe than recount. All she knew was that a moment later, she was lying flat on her back, her pants torn, as an echoing pop resounded from her ankle.
“Cindy!” Richard hovered over her. “Are you okay?”
She had to remind her brain to breathe, to tell it to inhale. Even then, it took what felt like an inordinate amount of time for her lungs to comply with the conscious order to take a darn breath.
Richard looked relieved when she took a breath.
“Just got the wind knocked out of you,” he said as he moved to help her up.
“Just isn’t the word I’d use.”
Searing pain resonated in her skull as she climbed to a sitting position.
“Let me see your eyes,” Richard said once she regained her equilibrium.
She blinked several times as he looked at them. “Most guys buy me dinner before they ask to stare into my soul.”
He released a chuckle. “Sense of humor’s intact. I hear that’s a good sign.”
“Even if everything else hurts?”
He grinned in amusement before he continued down to her foot. He gently pressed his fingers to her foot. She bit back a cry of pain.
“The ankle? Can you move it?”
Tears welled up in her eyes as she attempted to move the limb.
“I’m going to roll your sock off as gently as I can.”
She could see in his eyes his apology that his actions were going to bring her additional pain. “I need to see what I’m dealing with.”
She nodded.
True to his word, he was working as cautiously as possible, but she couldn’t help but admit that it was still causing her no small degree of agony.
She clenched her fists to try and help with the pain. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“No, I don’t have a foot fetish.”
She chuckled in spite of herself and found that for an instant, the pain was in the background rather than the foreground of her mind. “That’s not what I was going to say.”
“Ask me no questions, and I’ll tell you no lies.”
He ran his finger up her foot as if he was trying to tickle the injured limb. “How’s that?”
She hissed in pain.
“I think we’re headed for the emergency room.”
“No.”
She closed her eyes as tears filled her eyes. She had to get up. She had to finish this.
“Why?”
She hadn’t realized she’d spoken the urgency she felt about this task aloud, but Richard’s puzzled eyes caught her gaze the moment she opened her teary eyes. She inhaled slowly in an attempt to speak clearly even with the tears and the pain. “This is going to be your new offi
ce.”
His brow furrowed deeply. “My what?”
She swallowed. She could feel the throbbing in her leg, and it made the pain more unbearable than she could say.
“Break room. Ice. Couch.”
Richard must have caught what she was trying to say because he shook his head. “Ambulance. I don’t want to take the chance that you’ve broken your ankle.”
He studied her eyes again and grimaced. “I’d also feel better if a medical professional ruled out a concussion.”
She gritted her teeth. How could she make him understand? There was no way she would be able to afford an ambulance ride. Frankly, she was a little nervous about being able to afford an emergency room visit with the scans which would likely be ordered as well as the pain medications.
“I can make it out to the car,” she said between gritted teeth. She looked down at her foot before she looked at him. “I think you’ll need to drive.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know the area well enough to drive. If you’re going to insist on not having an ambulance come to pick you up, we’ll take the driver Mr. Fortescue hired for the week.”
She bobbed her head once for assent, her head throbbing enough to make nodding more painful than she wanted to admit. Maybe he was right to be concerned about her having a concussion.
“Stay there.” He ducked out of the room.
She rolled her eyes as she gently rested her head against one of the nearby filing cabinets. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere any time soon.”
Richard pushed an office chair into the small room. “I know it’s not a wheelchair, but I figure that I can prop it in a corner before I help you up. Then, you only have to hop a few steps to it.”
Relief flooded her immediately. She would never have guessed how much of her tension was wrapped up in the simple idea of getting up and moving. “That’s a great idea. I can even scoot closer before that happens.”
He held up a hand to stop her. “Before you do that, let’s make sure we splint that ankle first. I don’t want you doing more damage to it before we even get to the hospital.”
“That’s a good idea.”
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