22. Gabriella
Gabriella
N iles gave me one of his looks, the kind that asked if I was all right. With Rosemary sitting across the table, I simply feigned a smile and nodded.
“Thank you for your time,” Rosemary said as she closed her laptop. “It’s good to know I have Niles here and you’re only a phone call away.”
“I am. You’re off to a roaring start.” The three of us had spent most of the week together, Niles and me filling her in on our duties. I wasn’t sad to pass off the new intern to her. He was more work than he was help.
Rosemary looked around my office as she stood and tucked her laptop under her arm. “Are you sure you don’t mind me moving in here?”
With a sigh, I leaned back and stretched my neck. “The movers are coming in the morning. It’s silly to let the office sit empty.” I thought the movers were still coming. Since our phone sex Tuesday night, I hadn’t heard from Damien. It wasn’t that I’d missed any calls or text messages, only that none had been sent.
“I’ll see you both tomorrow,” she said as she left the office, closing the door behind her.
As soon as we were alone, Niles’s hazel stare was on me. “Talk to me, Els.”
“Nothing to say,” I replied as I tried to swallow the lump that had been forming in my throat.
“Still no calls?”
I shook my head. “Or text messages. I’ve had my ringer on day and night.” I let out a long breath. “This is what I was afraid of. He comes on all hot, heavy, and possessive, and then disappears.”
“Have you tried to call him?”
“No.” Pushing my chair back from the conference table, I stood. “I don’t know what’s happening. He said there was an us, but it’s not official. I don’t want to come across too needy. Besides, Damien said if I had questions to call Johnathon, his assistant.”
Niles scrunched his nose and crossed his arms over his chest. “Come home with me tonight. Jeremy will have dinner and the three of us can drain a bottle of wine…or two.”
The offer was inviting. “I should go home and keep working on learning more about the pharma coalition. I’ve spent every minute of the last week with Rosemary and you. I’ve let the preliminary research of my new position slide.”
Niles looked up from his phone. “Jeremy is completely on board. He’s making quesadillas. We could change wine to margaritas.” His smile was bright.
“You definitely know how to tempt a girl.” I shook my head. “Tell Jeremy thanks for the invite. I need to face the fact that this is a job. Me going to Sinclair is about Beta Kappa Phi, not some imaginary rekindling of a relationship with Damien.”
“Maybe he has a good reason why he hasn’t contacted you.”
“It’s the hunt. He wanted me to take this job. I did it. Now, he’s won, and he doesn’t need to prove anything else.”
“Won at what?” Niles asked. “You’re moving from this office to a fancy location downtown. Your salary is increasing. You will be eligible for variable payouts. Honey, you won.”
Swallowing, I nodded. “You’re right.” I looked around the room. Many of my books and files were already packed into boxes. The bookcase was empty except for the things I was leaving for Rosemary. “Promotion.”
“Damn right.”
“Millie said if this program meets its goals, I could hire additional people to help me.”
Niles’s lips twitched. “Are you offering me a position?”
“I don’t know. I have no idea of the pay or anything, but if it’s feasible, yes, I’d love to work with you in the future.”
“We can cross that bridge…”
“Okay, just don’t forget about me.”
“Never.”
When I arrived home, there was a delivery on my front porch with the familiar smile on the side of the box. I read the address, fully expecting it to have been placed at the wrong door. The tag had my name and address. Taking the box inside, I spoke aloud to Duchess. “I don’t remember ordering anything.” I smiled at her. “Did you?”
Inside was an automatic cat feeder, having the ability to program exactly how much food to dispense and when. “You did order this,” I said.
Duchess was less than impressed as I put the feeder back in the box. “I’ll return it tomorrow.” She rubbed her forehead against my hand.
A few hours later, the names of the CEOs as well as their signature drugs were settling into a fog within my tired mind. Taking a drink of wine, I peered around my living room and took a final look at the notebook beside my laptop. It was filled with notes I’d jotted down. Tomorrow, I’d make them into something more legible. I was contemplating going upstairs when the doorbell rang. Looking down, I assessed I could at least see who was outside. It was nearly nine at night and my work clothes were replaced by soft pants and an oversized shirt. I wasn’t exactly ready for guests, but whomever would arrive at this hour didn’t deserve the polished version.
My bare feet padded over the cool tile as I made my way to the front door. Flipping the switch to illuminate my front porch, I first noticed the red hair of my visitor. Shaking my head, I unlocked and opened the door. “Johnathon, what are you doing here?” Near his feet was a large suitcase on 360 rollers. “Why do you have a suitcase?”
“Mr. Sinclair wanted you to have this for your trip.”
Narrowing my eyes, I asked, “What trip?”
“Your trip tomorrow to Ashland. You’re meeting with the CEOs from the coalition.”
With a shake of my head, I open the door wider. “Come in.” As he passed the threshold, wheeling the large suitcase, I placed my fists at my waist. “I wasn’t told of a trip. I need to be at the office in the morning. The last I heard, the movers were scheduled.”
“Yes, they’ll be there by eight. Your new office should be ready when you return.”
Waving my hands, the anger inside me began to boil. “You can take whatever is in the suitcase away.” I had a thought. “Did Mr. Sinclair send a cat feeder?”
“Oh,” Johnathon replied, relieved. “I’m so glad it arrived in time. Yes, since you’ll be gone all weekend.”
“I haven’t spoken to Mr. Sinclair since Tuesday. No one told me about the trip.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Crystal?—”
“Ella.”
“Ella,” he corrected. “Mr. Sinclair was unexpectedly called out of town. He should be back in time to fly with you to Ashland. If he isn’t, he said he’d meet you there.”
“He’s sending me to meet with the CEOs and he may not be with me?”
“If he can make it, I’m sure he will.” Johnathon tipped his chin to the suitcase. “May I leave this with you?”
“You may take it away.”
Johnathon’s lips pursed. “Mr. Sinclair was explicit in wanting you to have it—oh, and the contents.”
I shook my head. “Fine. Do you know what’s inside?”
“I believe it’s your clothes for the trip. He didn’t want you to have to pack.”
I lifted a brow. “He packed for me?”
“No, he had his personal shopper do it.” Johnathon smiled. “I believe you have everything you’ll need for the meetings and free time.”
“In Ashland, Wisconsin,” I said in disbelief.
Johnathon removed his phone from his pocket and after a moment, looked up. “I just sent you your itinerary. The Sinclair plane will be ready for you tomorrow at seven thirty.”
“You can tell Mr. Sinclair I can’t possibly go away for the weekend on such short notice.”
Johnathon’s smile dimmed.
“Never mind. I’ll tell him.”
“If you’d prefer, I can pick you up at seven. If you would rather drive, there is an attachment on the email with directions to the airport.”
“Has it changed?”
“Ma’am?”
“Is the plane at the private hangar near the Indianapolis Airport?” It was where it was when I worked for Sinclair.
“Yes. If I pick you up, you won’t need to worry about parking.”
“Parking?” My thoughts were scrambled. “Shit. I can’t get out of this, can I?”
“I’ll be back here at seven.”
I looked down at my watch. “Great, I’ll see you in ten hours.”
Johnathon nodded.
Opening the door, I said my goodbye before going back inside. Duchess peered around the corner, checking to see that Johnathon was gone. “Damien complains about communication. He’s the one who doesn’t communicate.”
Duchess approached the metallic rose-colored suitcase with caution, sniffing as she moved.
“Do you think we should look inside?”
Her round green eyes stared up at me.
In the middle of my foyer, I laid the suitcase down on the floor and unzipped it. I almost hated to disrupt the contents. Everything was folded precisely. “What the hell?”
Does Damien think I don’t own clothes?
There were two blouse-and-skirt combinations, a pair of wool slacks, blue jeans, and a few tops, including a soft sweater. There was also a long black dress. The label read Brandon Maxwell.
Okay, I didn’t own any two-thousand-dollar dresses.
Opening the other side of the suitcase, I found multiple pairs of shoes and a cosmetic bag. Inside the bag were all the cosmetics I used and others nicer than what I used. This felt wrong. If I was supposed to meet the CEOs, I shouldn’t do it playing dress-up.
Leaving the suitcase open by the front door, I went to my phone. As the screen lit, I saw a text message. “Sure, now you communicate.”
I opened the text.
“Just in case you were considering disobeying, I chose to dress you for our trip. Wear the navy skirt and blazer and white blouse to the plane tomorrow with the Louboutin pumps. You’re stunning, Ella. The clothes are only the wrapping. Knock them all dead with your charm, intelligence, and eagerness to make this program work.”
I hit the call button, unsure exactly what I wanted to say. The call immediately went to voicemail. Biting my lip, I waited for the beep. “This is bullshit, Damien. You can’t spring a trip on me the night before. I’m not your doll to dress.”