Seraphina scooped up her tablet and walked around her desk. She and Grant were overdue for a talk. She brushed past Brendan without glancing at him. “We’ll see.” For now, it was the best she could offer.
* * * *
Annie’s outraged squawk was the only warning Grant got before Seraphina charged into his outer office. She was a study in passion. He recognized the flush in her cheeks, the wildness in her eyes, and the way she took in each breath like fuel fanning the flames. Her pinched lips were new, though. As was the ire glinting behind her blazing blue irises. A few angry strides ate up the space between them. She wore a forest green pencil skirt that tapered to just above her knees, and it accentuated the swing of her hips. Grant cleared his throat and sat up straight.
“I will not work with Brendan Berkley.” She said that and nothing more. She crossed her arms over her cream-colored silk blouse and stared.
Grant tapped his pen on his desk and did his best not to let his anxiety show. How would Ophelia like this handled, he wondered wryly. He had no choice but to be a degree of honest. Enough to convince Seraphina to move forward. “I’m not asking,” he said simply, keeping his voice light. “You’ve been assigned a job. So has he. I expect you both to accomplish those tasks to the best of your abilities, and with the professionalism our clients expect from Gallagher Interiors.”
Seraphina didn’t appear chastised in the least. Instead, she grew suspicious, her eyes narrowing. “This isn’t right. First, you deliberately choose Roper’s designs—”
“That was an impartial decision.”
“My ass. I’m not stupid enough to believe for one second you preferred his work to mine. If you’re going to tout professional behavior, I’d start with being less obvious about your shows of favoritism.”
His anger came slow, but it came with force. Her impertinence made his chest feel heavy, like hardening cement. He stood up. “You are an employee here. And the first to stand over me in my own office and dictate terms to me. This is unacceptable. You’re dismissed.”
“No.” Her jaw hardened. “I’m not leaving without an explanation.”
“Our relationship outside of this building has skewed your perception. You work for me on my terms, Seraphina. Or you do not work for me. There were more qualified applicants for your job.”
“Threaten me all you like. But unless you’re prepared to call in security, I’m not moving. You owe me answers.” To further make her case, she sat down in one of the chairs facing Grant’s desk.
He stood over her, blood pounding in his temples. He warred against himself. If it weren’t for Ophelia, he’d fire Seraphina on the spot, their hot weekend together be damned. Business was business, and this wasn’t how he conducted his. But in this, he was essentially powerless. There were consequences to having important friends, and it had never been more evident than now. He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to calm down. Eventually, his heart rate slowed, and he returned to his chair. Seraphina wouldn’t be cowed, which equally annoyed and impressed him.
Mostly annoyed. “I owe you?” He ran the words over his tongue, disgusted with the way they tasted. “So, those were favors you did me. I see. Well, it’s unfortunate we can’t keep our short-lived affair a secret. It won’t sit well with the designers who lost Tanbee House to you.”
Her brilliant red eyebrows gathered in confusion. “What?”
“You think it will go unnoticed, how you strode into this office as if it’s your right to do so? Or that you’ll face no disciplinary action? You think Annie is so loyal as to be above juicy breakroom gossip? If the people who work for me haven’t already figured out we were sleeping together, they’ll certainly piece it together after this.” He didn’t miss the way her eyes widened at his use of the past tense. She had to see it. There was no way they could continue after this. By forcing his hand, she was making a statement. Favoritism, indeed. “Try not to take it too personal if you get dirty looks from a few of the office women. Lucia has been trying to seduce me the better part of a decade.”
For the first time, some uncertainty crept into Seraphina’s voice. “That’s not what I meant. You don’t owe me…for that. I just meant…”
“It wasn’t favoritism.” He cut her off swiftly, irritated to find his feelings were more than a little hurt. There was nothing else she could have been referring to. He had no idea she’d expected him to pay her back at all, let alone on company time. He was mildly floored to find she saw him as indebted to her. “Desperation. Roper self-sabotaged the project, deliberately to keep me from giving him Tanbee House. But with his files deleted, it would’ve been too obvious, even for me, to keep him on. He wants more creative enterprises, but I need him on the important city projects.”
Seraphina snorted, a delicate sound despite her anger, an anger that came off her like waves of heat. “You think a couple of fun renovations will keep him from leaving the company?” Her eyes widened as his head snapped up. Her hand flew to her mouth, even though it was too late to stop the words, now they were out and floating between them.
“Roper is leaving? He said this to you?”
Seraphina merely blinked. Eventually, she lowered her hand, and her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “I’m sorry. He asked me not to say anything. He wanted to tell you himself, when the time was right.”
Grant stood up again. He drew his hand into a fist, but stopped short of slamming it onto his desk. He’d never lost control in front of an employee, and he wouldn’t start now. His fearsome reputation didn’t need eye witness accounts. He spoke through gritted teeth, and locked his gaze onto a spot beyond Seraphina’s head, because he couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes. “This is a gross breach of trust between us. Your commitment is not to Roper. As my apprentice, it’s to this company. And to me.” He inhaled deeply. “You would leave us shorthanded and in peril of defaulting on contracts signed years in advance to keep Roper’s confidence. You both owe me time to prepare for the departure of someone as instrumental as Roper. And you have both failed me.” Finally, he looked at Seraphina, but only so she could see for herself that he meant every single one of the next words he uttered. “Get out. If you force me to involve security, I will have them drag you from the building.”
Chapter 10
“I’m sorry. I really am, but Grant’s right.” Miserable didn’t quite cover how Seraphina felt. Her hands shook as she brought the chai tea to her lips. It was sweet of Roper to offer to buy her a mid-morning drink after she’d ratted him out, but he didn’t strike her as anything more than mildly upset.
He sipped iced coffee through a straw and gazed at his phone in that heavy-lidded way people had. Only a slight shrug indicated he’d even heard her. “I would’ve had to come clean eventually. He is right. I didn’t want to leave him in a bind. But now he’s so pissed I was going to bail, he hardly looked at me when he called me up to his office. I doubt he tries to convince me to stay on now.”
“Really? I get he’s mad, but it’ll fade.”
Roper finally looked up from his phone. His gaze on Seraphina, he took another long sip from his drink. “Not Grant. Grant doesn’t let anything ‘fade.’ That’s what makes him such a bull to deal with. He doesn’t backtrack or change his mind. And once he says ‘this is how it is,’ then that’s exactly how it is. Guy’s a shark. Move forward or die.” Roper shook his head in an appreciative way and returned his attention to his phone.
The words dismayed Seraphina. She leaned back in her chair, glad for the relative privacy Roper’s distraction afforded her. Roper had forgiven her easily, and even apologized for asking her to keep such a secret in the first place. He hadn’t completely succeeded in hiding his disappointment at being summoned by an upset Grant, and it almost made Seraphina feel worse somehow. Better had he ranted and raved. By being so nice, she only felt further indebted.
You owe me.
Her face burned hot
at the memory of the carelessly flung words. How idiotic. And untrue. Grant Gallagher didn’t owe her a thing, and she had no idea what on earth had possessed her to make such a claim. Because she’d opened herself up to him, given him a piece of herself? But then, he’d done likewise. In every sense, with the exception of their respective job descriptions, they were on equal footing. He’d been incredulous and livid, and Seraphina couldn’t pretend he should have felt any other way. She hung her head and gripped her tea container. The cup was growing cool in her hands. She had to apologize to Grant, and she had a feeling mere words wouldn’t suffice. Some sort of compromise—no, sacrifice—would need to be made.
She sighed and rose from the small table, offering Roper a slight grin when he looked up, eyebrows hitched in question. She glanced at her watch. “I should get back.”
Roper let her go, again reminding her there were no hard feelings between them.
Back at the office, Seraphina hunted down Brendan Berkley. She found him in the second place she searched, the breakroom.
He sat picking at a loaded baked potato in a black Styrofoam container and speaking animatedly to Lucia, of all people. “Yeah, yeah,” he was saying. “Swift Appraisal and Pawn. Guy who runs it does the best deals in town. You should try there. You’ll get a fair price if you’re sure the ring is solid silver.”
Lucia mumbled something back and Brendan laughed. Seraphina cleared her throat. Lucia glanced her way, stared for just long enough to convince Seraphina everyone and their grandma knew she’d slept with the boss, then made a quick excuse to leave. Brendan gave her a quick wave and turned to Seraphina with an open, curious expression, his spork poised over his potato as if he didn’t intend to take another bite until she announced her intentions.
She tried to conceal her defensiveness. She deliberately uncrossed her arms as Brendan blinked owlishly from behind his thick square frames. “I’ve behaved less than professionally,” she admitted coolly, forcing her pride to the back of her throat. “I’m not certain I trust you, Brendan, nor can I say I much look forward to spending months in your company. However, I will endeavor to leave my personal feelings at home each day, and arrive here each morning focused on the task at hand, prepared to work beside whoever shares that goal. I won’t put my personal allegiance ahead of my professional one, which is to Gallagher Interiors.”
Brendan’s grin came slowly. “That’s all I ask.”
Seraphina nodded shortly and left him to his lunch. Then, she crashed Annie’s waiting area once again. Only this time, she did her best to appear embarrassed and chastised. She pleaded pathetically for a word with Grant.
Annie’s frown was deep, and it formed thick wrinkles on either side of her chin. “He’s out.”
Seraphina accepted this without complaint. She left quietly, and stepped into the hallway. Once away from Annie’s disapproving stare, she withdrew her phone from her pocket. She hadn’t wanted to text, but she also didn’t want to leave a vague message with Grant’s overprotective secretary.
I apologized to Brendan, and owe you one as well. I will work with whomever you see fit to assign to Tanbee House, without complaint. She paused, bit her lip, and considered. Long messages were the bane of everyone’s text inbox. But if Grant declined to speak with her again, she needed to say everything while she could. He couldn’t block her; not so long as she still worked for him, anyway, but she still preferred to stop short of harassing the man. Would like to see you. To explain.
There. She’d get her chance or she wouldn’t. How she could explain, she had no idea. She still couldn’t fathom what had compelled her to make the claim Grant was somehow in her debt, and she hadn’t time to sufficiently dig through her myriad of strangled, stunted emotions to figure it out. Perhaps she would, by the time Grant deigned to reply.
To her amazement, he did so immediately. Filed a report this morning about the intruder at Tanbee House. Nothing else. Nothing about their heated exchange, and nothing about Brendan.
She found Ophelia in her office, sorting through stacks of pages. Some were sketches, and some were color palettes.
Ophelia glanced up and smiled wide, then launched into a report. “Cedar can be sourced locally, and recommended if you intend to stain the wood used to construct the new walls. I also found suppliers for black walnut and teak. Marc Curry estimates three weeks for them to have Tanbee House ready for plumbing and wiring, as well as foundation concerns addressed. He suggests you meet with him before they begin rebuilding the necessary walls and infrastructure. He’s concerned you’ll end up with a patchwork interior if you keep the original white oak in some spots, as outlined in your plans. But he also says he’ll know more after he completes his initial inspection today. I told him I’d have you get in touch.”
Impressed with Ophelia’s efficiency, Seraphina took the proffered pages, detailing suppliers and their contact information for each source of wood. Teak was the gold standard, and the price reflected it. The right type of cedar, too, could put a hole in their budget. The black walnut seemed to check all the right boxes: durable, widely available, and not too expensive. She handed it back. “Excellent work, Ophelia. I spoke briefly with Marc earlier today, but I’ll make time for an in-depth meeting this week. I’m leaning toward the black walnut, but he may have other ideas.”
Ophelia was quiet for a moment. Seraphina had the sense she was working up to something. A short indrawn breath was followed by a pause. She made another quick inhale before finally speaking. “Seraphina, I hope you’ll reconsider working with Brendan.”
Seraphina’s snort was distinctly unladylike. “Spoken like I have a choice if I want to head the Tanbee House renovation. For what it’s worth, I’ve apologized to him.” She studied Ophelia’s expression, but gleaned nothing from her dark, steady gaze. “Why? Do you know him personally?”
“No.” A faint smile ghosted over her painted lips. “But I trust Grant implicitly. And if he wants Brendan to shadow me as I assist you on the Tanbee House renovation, I’ve got to assume he thinks it’s the best way to introduce Brendan to the company’s infrastructure.”
Maybe. It was possible she’d taken Brendan’s appointment personally, when in fact Grant had actual reasons. She thought of the keys burning like a chunk of hot coal in her jacket pocket. She’d love to know those reasons, if they did exist. Brendan hadn’t been anything more than a lackey, albeit a highly-placed lackey, at Free Leaf Concepts. Coffee fetcher and file shuffler. What value did he bring to Gallagher Interiors?
“I’d better go,” she told Ophelia. “You’ve done well. If you wouldn’t mind moving on to other source materials. I don’t want to shop at Lowe’s for finishing products. Metal work, hinges, and doors. Find me custom shops, or at least a few that offer unique wares, local if at all possible.”
On her way out the front of Gallagher Interiors, Seraphina dialed Kay.
Kay answered immediately, sounding slightly out of breath. It could mean any number of things, as Kay didn’t save her spastic energy for any one task. She could be jogging, pacing around the large drafting table inside her office, or simply thinking too hard. “Sera, my loveliest friend.”
Seraphina smiled. Kay simply had that kind of power. “Hey. Listen, this is important. Brendan Berkley has been assigned to assist me on the Governor’s Mansion project. I tried to get him taken off, but Grant isn’t budging. But I wanted to let you know, I’ll be watching the guy like a hawk. Last night, someone was inside Tanbee House. If it weren’t for Brendan’s involvement, I wouldn’t see anything strange about a squatter making use of the abandoned site, but something about Grant’s reaction seemed off.”
“Whoa, hold on.” Kay’s mild distraction dissipated, and worry settled into her voice. “What do you suspect?”
“Er…well, nothing. Not yet. It’s just strange. Grant’s insistence that Brendan sit in on the project. A glorified secretary, I’m having trouble seeing how
this prepares him to be Grant’s personal desk jockey. Then there’s the fact Grant hired the guy in the first place.”
“And the break-in?”
Hell. Was she going crazy? She smoothed her hair and wound through the midtown streets, through crowds of shopping mothers, harried businessmen all wearing shades of the same tie, and the usual aimless pedestrians—mostly college students with a few free hours, eyeballing the buskers and food cart peddlers. “Someone was inside Tanbee House last night. They broke a window to get out. Grant says he reported the incident, but last night he wouldn’t even investigate. Almost like…” She couldn’t bring herself to accuse him of hiding something. “Never mind. Maybe he was trying to protect me in case the intruder was still around.”
Kay’s silence stretched long. Only small considering hmms in her throat let Seraphina know she hadn’t dropped the call. “I have to say, it’s a stroke of luck if you’re sure about becoming a spy for Oliver. The department won’t let him back on the case, at least not as long as Brendan remains a person of interest. But if you could get some hardcore evidence, or even simply pass along information, you might happen upon just the thing we need.”
“What good is evidence if I can’t prove anything?”
“Start carrying a camera,” Kay suggested in an obvious tone.
“You mean like the one built into my cell phone?”
“No, don’t use that.” Kay’s voice turned serious. “Oliver says stuff gets booted from court all the time because it’s hard to prove a photograph wasn’t altered. There are a million apps you can get these days to play with pictures. Get a real camera, and because most civilian e-mail isn’t encrypted, I’d save them onto an SD card, rather than e-mail them as attachments. It’d be nearly impossible for, say, Brendan’s future lawyer to claim pictures were altered if they were never digitally stored or transferred.”
Seraphina felt her eyebrows climb. “Wow, Kay. You’ve really picked up a few things. But it’d look weird, wouldn’t it?”
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