Chapter 27
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Thomas waited on the rooftop garden, barely noticing the spectacular view of San Francisco and the Bay Bridge.
It was a little windy—at forty stories up, that wasn’t surprising—but the sun was shining.
And the garden was still in bloom, full of azaleas, climbing roses, and all sorts of flowers he couldn’t name.
There was some arcane, feng shui related reason for why the garden was up there at all, and Thomas hadn’t questioned it when he’d okayed the plans.
For now, he figured it was a persuasive arena, idyllic.
Most of all, it was much less imposing than his office.
He got the feeling Kate was going to dig in her heels on this one, and he was going to use whatever advantage he had to convince her to work for him.
But just work for you, right?
Kate stepped out, and he grinned when he watched her mouth drop open. “Holy cow. I didn’t even know this was up here.”
“Few people do,” he said. “Since you have to go through my office. It’s a nice day; I thought we could talk up here. If you don’t mind?”
She was still taking in the view. “What? No. Sure.” Then she shifted, her gaze going from dazzled to wary in about two seconds. “What did you want to talk about?”
Better to ease into it. She was tense as a piano wire. “How’s it going with the Basement Boys?”
That’s what she was calling them—the Basement Boys. Like they were a band or a sports team. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d given them all matching T-shirts.
She shrugged, gingerly sitting on a decorative wrought-iron bench. “We’ve got eight names, and I’ll bet we have a ninth by the end of the day. If we keep this up, my contract will be finished, and I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”
I’m not staying here, her expression said. Hell, she looked ready to bolt out the door at the first opportunity.
Well, he’d had tough negotiations before. If he could arm-wrestle with multi-million-dollar corporations, he could certainly hire a secretary.
He took a seat at the far end, not crowding her. “Have you given any thought to my offer?”
“Offer?”
“To work for me,” he reminded her.
“You mean, to be your personal assistant or Girl Friday or whatever?” She let out a nervous laugh. “What, you were serious about that?”
“Serious as a tax audit,” he drawled. “I mean it, Kate. This is an official job offer.”
Another nervous laugh—and now she wasn’t looking at his eyes. He inched just a little closer to her. She was wearing a seafoam green sweater and another ugly skirt, something that resembled oatmeal and came down to her calves.
He bet she had nice legs, if she ever showed them.
Focus, man. This was business.
“Um, I really don’t think that would work out.” Her gaze shot to the stairway door. She was jittery as a wild horse.
“You’re good,” he reassured her. “You’ve got—what did you call it?—mad filing skills, and that’s just a start. You work well with people.” And demons. Let’s not forget demons. “You’re proactive, and you think outside the box.”
“Okay, enough with the corporate platitudes,” she said, finally meeting his gaze. “Keep this up, and you’re going to say that I leverage opportunities to maximize cost effectiveness or something. I don’t think you can come back from something like that.”
He chuckled. “See? This is why I want to hire you.”
“Because I have no verbal filter?”
“Because you speak your mind,” he corrected. “Also, because you kick ass, mine included. You get the job done, and that’s what I need.”
“That’s flattering,” she said, but her full lips were pulled tight. “Thanks. But, really…no thanks.”
He studied her for a minute. “Okay. What’s going on with you?”
“What? Nothing. What are you talking about?”
Too defensive. He hadn’t known her long, but he knew her well enough to notice that. He frowned, leaning forward. “You’re acting strangely, Kate. Why?”
She laughed again, a nervous, thready sound, nothing like her usual husky voice. “Doesn’t anybody say ‘no’ to you?”
“Not without a damned good reason.”
The laugh dropped, and her eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to work for you. Isn’t that a good reason?”
He ignored the fact that the words stung. “I hadn’t realized you were so unhappy.”
“I took the job because my family needs the money and I didn’t want the Boys abused,” she snapped. “What about that makes you think I’d do cartwheels to keep working here?”
“I told you what happened,” he said. “And they haven’t been mistreated since, have they?”
“It’s been, like, a week,” she muttered.
He took a deep breath. How to explain—they’re not even people, they’re demons, the treatment they get here is a fraction of the punishment they would have gotten if they were back in Hell?
No way without sounding unbalanced, he realized.
“Okay. What’s it going to take for you to agree to this? Because I am determined to have you, damn it.”
Kate stood up, eyes blazing. “I’m not something you own, pal.”
He growled, rubbing his face with his hands. Why was it so impossible to be smooth around her? He’d screwed up before—nobody succeeded in business without a few setbacks. But he couldn’t remember doing it this gracelessly, this monumentally, in years.
This woman messes me up.
That still wasn’t stopping him.
He took a different tack. “You said your family needed money. If you walk away from this, do you really think you’re going to be able to find a job that pays even a fraction of what I’m offering here? The way the job market is right now?”
“I’ll manage.”
“Yes, but will they?”
“Is that a threat?” She took a step closer, her dark wavy hair whipping in a gust of wind. For a second, she looked like some avenging goddess.
“No, it’s not a damned threat. I don’t work that way.”
She grimaced. “Sure you don’t.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He found himself running a distracted hand through his hair—the damned stuff was probably sticking up like Einstein’s. He struggled like hell to get his legendary charm back on track. “At what point did you become convinced I’m an asshole?”
“I don’t trust you.” Kate’s green eyes were bright, and her voice was flat. The woman pulled no punches.
Yeah, that statement hurt, too. But honestly, in his position, he couldn’t blame her.
He stood, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “It’s all right. I’m glad you’re suspicious.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“I think that you’re loyal. I like that quality about you.
I need an assistant who knows what she’s doing, who I can trust with the secrets of my companies.
You already know more than I’d meant you to,” he said with a rueful laugh.
“And you found it out on your own. I’m trusting you, Kate.
Maybe if you work with me, see what I’m really like…
maybe you could learn to be loyal to me, too. ”
For a second, he saw a flash of yearning—and confusion. Then she shook her head.
“So, you’d trust me with all your secrets?” she said slowly. “You’d explain what’s really going on?”
He gritted his teeth, then made sure his face was blank. “Sure,” he lied.
She skewered him with a glare.
“Gradually,” he amended, and it felt like a knot loosened in his chest. “Hell’s bells, you are gonna keep me honest, aren’t you?”
“Did you know you sound more Southern when you’re upset?”
“I do?” He paused, quickly rewinding their conversation back mentally. “Huh. I do.”
She looked out, past the flowers, and began wandering down the path; he found himself walking with her, matching her gait. She let out a long sigh, crossing her arms as if she were cold.
“I wouldn’t do anything I thought was wrong,” she said slowly. “I mean it, Thomas. If I see something illegal, or something that strikes me as off—”
He nodded again, feeling triumphant. “I wouldn’t ask you to.” He’d just keep her away from that anyway, for the time being. The important part was getting his business life in order, getting her to handle the piddly-shit business details that were currently bogging him down.
From there, he could handle the killing bit on his own.
“All right, then,” she whispered, and it sounded like she was being walked to the guillotine. “I’ll be your secretary, or whatever.”
“Executive assistant,” he said, suppressing a smile. He held out a hand. “Thanks, Kate. I mean that.”
She took his hand. Hers felt cool, and shook a little.
He reached out, stroking her arm briskly. “You okay? Anything I can do?”
She looked forlorn. But determined. “No. I can do this.”
Her expression was so damned sad. Not like Ginny’s theatrical histrionics. This was a bone-deep sorrow, one he immediately responded to. For a second, he wanted to gather her up, tuck her head under his chin, and just hold her tight, until that expression melted away.
He cleared his throat. “My consultant Yagi will have a contract for you to sign. You’ll be taking over some of Ginny’s duties, too, so you might want to talk to her, as well. At least she knows who you’ll need to get in touch with.”
“Okay.” She nodded again, looking like a bobblehead for a second. He saw her swallow hard. “Okay,” she repeated.
“It’ll be all right, Kate,” he heard himself say, for no good reason.
She smiled weakly. “Sure it will. Boss.”
She walked to the door, disappearing down the stairway.
Yagi emerged a few minutes later, as Thomas still stood in the same place, taking in the view—wondering why working for him was the cause for such utter dejection.
“My private investigator has located the first signatory,” Yagi said, then frowned, studying Thomas’s face. “Kate took the job, then?”
“She took the job.” Thomas nodded.
“Interesting.” Yagi paused for a second. “I give her one week before all hell breaks loose.”