Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
R eid
Before I walk into the private washroom attached to my office, I know something isn’t right.
There wasn’t a cup of coffee waiting for me, and Miss Starling’s desk looks like it hasn’t been touched since she raced out of the office after work yesterday.
I inhale deeply, but I only smell a hint of lemon, courtesy of the cleaning crew that made their regular rounds after I left last night.
Miss Starling doesn’t wander into this washroom every morning, but it happens often enough that I’ve started looking forward to being bathed in the lingering scent of her perfume.
“Reid!” Vance calls my name from somewhere close, so I step into view since one glance in the mirror in the washroom told me what I already knew.
My tie is perfectly knotted. Every hair on my head is in place, and my jaw is as smooth as can be.
“I’m here,” I say when I spot him in the doorway of my office.
I can barely see the person standing behind him, but I catch a quick flash of blonde hair and a black skirt. It’s his executive assistant. Natasha Heary has been Vance’s right hand woman since we launched this venture.
In that time, she married a senior analyst she met here at work and they welcomed a son.
She’s as committed to the business as Vance is, and I know he’s been encouraging her to take the leap to becoming an analyst, too.
She certainly has the skill and insight for it.
“Hi, Reid.” She waves a hand over Vance’s shoulder. “I’m here to help.”
“With what?” My gaze volleys from Vance’s face to Natasha’s when she brushes past his arm to stand in front of him.
“To fill in for Evie.”
The nickname has never suited Evangeline, but everyone in this building seems fond of it.
Before I ask where the fuck Miss Starling is, Vance is handing out details about the logistics of how we’re going to handle sharing an executive assistant.
“Natasha will work from her desk, but your calls will ring through to her cell.”
To accentuate that point, his assistant shakes the phone in her hand. “I’ll answer them and transfer any important ones to you. I’m also available to sit in on any of your meetings, and I’ll be sure to be at Evie’s desk when the clients arrive who already have appointments booked for today and Monday.”
“Monday?” I question. “Evangeline is away today and Monday?”
“Evangeline,” Natasha whispers. “I’ve never heard anyone use her full name.”
Vance studies me. “Baden didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?” I snap, irritation lacing every word. “Where the hell is Miss Starling?”
“Out of town,” Natasha answers as she steps forward. “She went on a weekend getaway.”
“By herself?” I ask before I realize the question has left my lips.
Vance and his assistant exchange a look before she takes the reins and tells me what I don’t want to hear. “It was a last minute trip. She didn’t share all of the details with Baden when she asked for the time off. All she did say was that she was going away with someone she recently met.”
Fuck this Friday.
Natasha glances up at Vance. “I hope this guy will be good to her. Cleo told me Evie’s last boyfriend was a dud.”
That is both too much information and yet, not nearly enough.
How could a woman like Evangeline attract a dud? She’s perfection.
“So, you’re good with sharing Natasha?” Vance asks.
I nod. “Do you know if Baden is in yet?”
“Not yet.” Natasha shakes her head. “Scott told me he won’t be in until after lunch.”
Scott, Baden’s assistant, will likely have the information I want about where the hell my executive assistant is, so I need to pay him a visit.
Natasha glances at Miss Starling’s desk. “Evie sent me your schedule for today and Monday. I’ll keep on top of things, but I’m not her, so don’t expect me to run around town for you.”
Vance laughs. “You won’t even do that for me.”
“Or my husband,” she adds. “There’s a pot of freshly brewed coffee in the staff break room, Reid, or if you prefer less caffeine, you’ll find a box of chamomile tea next to the mugs.”
It looks like I need to head out for a decent cup of coffee before I visit Scott. “Noted, Natasha.”
She tosses me a grin. “I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”
I won’t need her. She’s not Miss Starling, so I’ll make this work on my own. Besides, I don’t know how much work I’ll get done now that I know my assistant has left town with a man who more than likely doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her.
“Scott is under the impression that Evie didn’t tell you she was hopping on a plane for a few days.”
I glance up from my laptop to see Baden approaching me.
He’s taking the casual Friday thing a bit far since he’s dressed in jeans and a T-shirt from the last tour of a pop star. That tour took place more than five years ago, and Baden wasn’t in the crowd for any of the shows.
I doubt like hell he’s even listened to her music, but one of our former clients ran an online shop that sold licensed apparel. Baden bought a bunch of T-shirts, wore them around New York City, and when a few people showed an interest in where he got them, he convinced Vance and me that the business was a solid investment for Vidori.
We’ve since sold it to a nationwide chain of brick and mortar clothing stores. They seamlessly integrated the online shop into their brand, and we came out ahead in the deal.
In addition, Baden added to his wardrobe since he still wears the shirts to this day.
“You could have mentioned it,” I tell him.
When I stopped by Scott’s desk on my way back from picking up a coffee, he told me that Evie had reached out to Baden late last week to request the long weekend. She didn’t specify her destination but indicated that she was flying out of New York on Thursday night.
I may have spent over an hour after that studying the flights that departed both JFK and LaGuardia last night. That was a colossal waste of time. Miss Starling could be anywhere with anyone by now.
“It slipped my mind,” he says. “What are your weekend plans?”
He knows the answer to that question because it’s the same every week. “Work.”
“Me too.”
That surprises me enough that I chuckle. “You’re working this weekend?”
“I do put in the time when it’s needed,” he assures me with a smile. “Let’s have dinner at Sérénité tomorrow night. It’ll be a good end to the day.”
Since the French restaurant is one of the best in the city, and Baden somehow always manages to get us a last-minute reservation, I nod. “Sérénité it is.”