7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Roman
GoldMed wasn’t the only pot I had my hand in, and as a result, my inbox held a dizzying amount of messages. My assistant sorted through my emails, starring the ones of highest priority. I clicked on an email sent last night from Shira. She’d replied to my questions about a manufacturer Frank had contracted six years ago.
She was certainly more talkative through email, but I still had several more questions and didn’t have time to send them and wait for a response. Pushing back from my desk, I headed toward her office. Terry looked up from her computer as I approached.
“Hey, Terry.”
“Roman.” Her greeting was warm but wary. I hadn’t quite won her over. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Don’t think so. I need to talk to the boss.” I jerked my thumb toward the door. “Is Shira available?”
Terry stacked her hands over a pile of papers, the corners of her eyes pinched behind gold-framed glasses. “She’s not in her office.”
“Really? Hmmm. It seems that’s been happening a lot lately.”
Not only had she been late for several meetings the last couple weeks, yesterday, I’d gone to speak with her and found her sound asleep at her desk. I’d left her there. If I’d woken her, I would’ve unloaded about how little she cared for this company. Frank had left GoldMed in her hands, and she repaid him by making a mockery of her position. It pissed me off. I was tired too, dammit, but I couldn’t fathom what it would take for me to nap at work.
Terry’s shoulders bunched, and she raised her chin. Despite everything, she was loyal to Shira Goldman. It bewildered me. She’d been Frank’s right-hand woman and, presumably, just as loyal to him. She had to see or know something I didn’t. I wished like hell someone would enlighten me.
“She’s speaking with Francesa. I’m sure Shira will be back any minute. If you’d like to wait—”
“No, that’s all right.” I was already turning toward Francesca’s office. “I’ll find her. Thanks, Terry. And don’t forget to send me the name of the ramen place. I’m jonesing for some noodles.”
She sniffed, muttering as I walked away, “We’ll see about that.”
Francesca occupied the far corner of the floor. She was rarely in the building, and I couldn’t say I’d ever ventured into her office. Her door was half open. Francesca was behind her desk, a wicked smirk on her painted red lips, while Shira had her back to me, both hands fisted at her sides.
“You can’t do that again,” Shira uttered.
Francesca lifted a shoulder. “Technically, it’s my house. It isn’t like I broke in.”
Shira shook her head. “It isn’t your house. It’s mine—”
“Are you saying I can’t come back to my father’s home? My only connection to him, and you’re taking that from me too? Haven’t you done enough?”
“No, I’m not saying that. I just need you to—”
“I don’t understand how you can be so cruel, Shira. I bet my father is rolling over in his grave right now.”
Shira’s shoulders bunched around her ears. “I don’t think I’m being cruel. I’m sorry if you feel that way, but the things you took weren’t for you. They were mine—”
Francesca had mentioned Shira not allowing her to have her father’s things, but given the drama she liked to create, I hadn’t truly believed her. There was no denying it now. Shira Goldman might’ve looked like a meek little mouse, but underneath her false timidity was a greedy snake.
I cleared my throat, and Shira whirled around. For a flash, I thought I saw Francesca’s lips turn into a grin then her face crumpled.
“Oh, Roman. I didn’t see you there,” Francesca wobbled, jutting her bottom lip out. “I’m sorry, my former stepmother and I were having a personal conversation. We should have saved that for after work hours.”
“It sounds like you two have a few things to work out.” I shot a pointed look at Shira then addressed Francesca. “Maybe a third party would help. I don’t know any inheritance lawyers, but I’m sure the firm I use could recommend one.”
Shira’s cheeks flamed bright red. “That won’t be necessary. We’ve already worked it out.” Then she marched past me, careful not to brush me.
I trailed her, incensed on Francesca’s behalf. Determined to rein it in, I ground my molars into dust to stop the insults on the tip of my tongue from flying out.
Shira glanced back at me over her shoulder. “I don’t know what you heard, but I—”
“I heard enough.”
Her fists tightened, and she muttered, “No one will let me finish a flipping sentence. I might as well not even speak.”
“Finish your sentence. Explain why you’re mistreating Frank’s daughter.”
She kept walking, those little fists balling even tighter. At half my size, I could have easily overtaken her, but I allowed her to have the lead. She strode straight into her office, and I followed, closing the door behind me.
She slumped in her chair and started clicking away on her mouse, ignoring my presence. It was infuriating. I wanted to have an important discussion with this woman and she wouldn’t even acknowledge I was standing in front of her.
“Shira.”
“Was there something else?” Her voice was so soft I had to lean forward to hear her.
“There is, in fact. I read your email and have a few follow-up questions. Do you have the time to answer them?”
“Just a minute, please.”
She tapped on her mouse, the corner of her jaw rippling with tension. Taking a sweep of the rest of her face, I noticed her pallor, a contrast to her usual golden tone, and the purple rings around her eyes. Shira was a fine-boned woman, but her cheekbones were more prominent than usual.
Uncomfortable, I shifted on my feet. “Are you sick?”
Her gaze flicked to mine. “Not with anything contagious. Don’t worry.”
I frowned. “You are sick. That’s why you were sleeping at your desk yesterday.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, her hand stilling. “I…I didn’t mean to do that.” Then she covered her face with both hands. “I’m so sorry you saw me like that. How embarrassing.”
“Shira, if you can’t stay awake, you shouldn’t be at work. Go to the doctor, get some rest.”
She moved her hands aside to look up at me. “I’m fine, honestly. As I said, I’m not contagious, and I can do my job. There’s no sense in me staying home. I’ll just worry about things here and won’t rest.” She let her hands fall to her desk and wove her fingers together, clenching hard enough to turn them white. “It won’t happen again.”
I took her in for a long beat. She really didn’t look well. Wisps had escaped her normally tidy hair, framing her sallow, hollow-cheeked face.
“Are you eating?” I asked, immediately wishing I could take it back. What she ate or didn’t eat wasn’t my concern. Soon, nothing about Shira would be my concern. But I was who I was, and seeing a woman in distress, no matter my personal feelings, didn’t sit well with me.
Shira pressed her lips together and looked away. “I’m fine, Roman. Thank you for asking. I won’t fall asleep at my desk again, and I’ll be sure to keep personal issues outside the office.”
Dismissed . That was what I was. I hadn’t gotten the answers I’d been seeking, but I wasn’t going to keep standing here with my dick in my hand while Shira tapped away on her damnable keyboard. I’d figure things out on my own.
Once I moved forward with my plans for GoldMed, I’d be doing that anyway.