Chapter Ten—Lorna #2
Chris sits back, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Okay.”
“It isn’t being Fenton that bothers me.” That’s perilously close to a lie, but I go with it.
He studies me. “I figured.”
“Did you?” The sharpness in my voice makes his eyebrows rise, so I make myself slow down. “Tell me what you think bothers me.”
Chris looks toward the new fence post before answering. “I’ve moved most decisions to Jensen or directly to me. Fenton still handles routine scheduling, document flow, and logistics. I think the fact that I’m still using him for those things bothers you.”
“Routine is what bothers me.” I tap my mug, catch myself, and lift my hand away. “Everything that happened to me grew out of ordinary information. Where I went. When you traveled. Which door vendors used. Who knew what arrived at the apartment.”
Chris leans forward slightly, his attention staying on me rather than shifting to the phone beside him. “You’re not saying Fenton gave anybody that information.”
“No. I’m saying your life is full of people who have pieces of it because you built it that way.” I adjust the blanket over my legs and look toward the yard. “I don’t expect you to stop running Aldren Capital because you’re here, and I don’t expect you to fire everybody you’ve ever trusted.”
“That’s good.” The corner of his mouth moves.
I glare at him. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.” His brief amusement disappears when he sees I don’t share it.
“I need you to understand what bothers me before you agree with it.” I look back at him. “You changed the alarm code and the building access. You’re answering your own phone now. Those are obvious changes, but you still assume the ordinary parts are harmless because they’ve always been ordinary.”
Chris glances down at the porch boards. “Like sending documents to the post office.”
“Yes. You gave Fenton the town name before I told you I never wanted to deal with him personally again. Today, you reused it without thinking.”
“I did.” His thumb moves once along the seam of his jeans. He looks irritated with himself rather than me. “I didn’t consider that the location itself was information.”
“That’s why it bothers me. You didn’t mean anything by it.” I wait until he looks back up. “You’ve spent years making your life automatic. Calls go through Fenton. Documents go through Fenton. Vendors go through Fenton. If you need something sent somewhere, you tell Fenton where to send it.”
Chris doesn’t argue. The silence gives me room to say the part that matters more than another discussion of his business systems.
“I don’t want him between us anymore. I told you that already.”
“I remember.” Chris sits forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “That part isn’t complicated. Fenton won’t manage your security, your business, your schedule, or access to me from you. If you call me, you get me.”
Some of the strain in my shoulders eases before I can stop it. I don’t want the promise to matter as much as it does when I haven’t decided if there will even be a marriage to protect. “What about everything else?”
“That’s more complicated.” Chris glances toward the guesthouse. “He’s my executive assistant. Some of what he handles is exactly what I hired him to handle, and I can’t reroute every company function in an afternoon. I can stop giving one person visibility into everything.”
I appreciate that answer more than another dramatic promise. “What does that actually mean?”
“Jensen handles deals without routing them back through Fenton. Property management deals directly with me on the penthouse. I’m handling my calls, and Fenton doesn’t need my travel details while I’m here.
” Chris pauses, watching my reaction. “It also means no part of your life ever goes through him again.”
“That sounds like a start.” I settle deeper into my chair. For the first time since he sat down, I don’t feel like I’m arguing to make him acknowledge something obvious.
The lodge door opens before either of us speaks again. Willa steps onto the porch carrying her phone and glances between us. “Sorry to interrupt. I need to confirm one security issue before tonight.”
My body tenses automatically. “Did something happen?”
“Nothing urgent.” Willa remains near the door rather than joining us. Her attention settles on Chris. “Until we identify how the intruder obtained household information, I’m recommending that you limit unnecessary distribution of location and travel data.”
Chris nods. “Lorna and I were just discussing that.”
“Good. Don’t send anything else to this area through staff.” Willa leans against the porch post. “If you need physical documents, Jensen can hold them until you return or send them somewhere that doesn’t identify where you’re staying.”
“I’ll do that.” Chris reaches for his phone, then stops when Willa continues.
“Anything connected to Lorna’s security stays between me, law enforcement, Mark Stone, and Lorna unless she authorizes otherwise.”
Chris grimaces. “Understood.”
Willa gives a brief nod. “That’s all I needed.” She goes back inside, leaving Chris looking at the phone in his hand.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Canceling tomorrow’s shipment.” He unlocks the screen and calls Fenton before I can say anything else.
Fenton must answer quickly because Chris shifts straight into business. “Hold the courier package. Don’t send anything else to the post office.”
He listens for a few seconds, then rests one ankle across his opposite knee. “No problem with the documents. Plans changed. Jensen can keep the originals until I’m back.”
Another pause follows. I watch Chris’s face, but nothing in his expression suggests the call is anything except routine.
“Correct. Thanks.” He ends the call and places the phone face-down on the table beside him.
“He didn’t ask why?” I can’t stop myself from asking.
Chris shakes his head. “He asked whether there was a problem with the documents. I said no, and he moved on.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” He watches me for another second. “He’s good at following instructions.”
I know that. Fenton is very good at his job. Chris changes an instruction, and Fenton follows it without demanding an explanation or making himself part of the decision.
The problem isn’t that Chris hired a competent assistant. It’s how completely Chris stopped noticing which decisions should never have belonged to an assistant at all.
“Thank you,” I say.
Surprise crosses Chris’s face before he gets it under control. “You’re welcome.”
He doesn’t use my gratitude to ask for anything else. We sit quietly for a minute, the creek louder now that evening has settled over the property. A branch knocks against another somewhere behind the lodge.
Chris eventually looks toward the fence. “I should brace that post before we get rain.”
I follow his attention. “You put concrete around it.”
“Concrete doesn’t cure instantly.” His tone turns dry again. “I thought you learned something during your three hours supervising from the kitchen.”
Heat climbs my face. “I was working.”
“I know.” Chris’s smile returns, warmer this time. “You were very committed to that one paragraph.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You couldn’t even see my screen.”
“No, but every time I looked toward the house, you were in exactly the same spot.”
“Maybe it was a difficult paragraph.”
His lips twitch. “Clearly.”
This time I do laugh, though I try to smother it by reaching for my coffee.
Chris hears it anyway. His expression changes with such naked pleasure that mine disappears almost immediately. He notices and doesn’t chase it.
“I should go brace the fence.”
“You should.” I watch him stand and collect his phone. At the bottom of the steps, he stops and looks back.
“Thanks for telling me what you needed instead of having Willa do it.”
The comment could annoy me, but his tone holds no smugness. “She offered.”
“I figured.”
I shrug. “I didn’t need her to.”
“I know.” He gives me a brief nod and crosses the yard toward the tools beside the woodshed.
I stay on the porch and watch him pull a spare length of lumber from behind the shed. A few minutes later, he kneels beside the new post and starts measuring for the brace.
Five days ago, I wasn’t sure he could hear anything I said without deciding whether I was right first. Tonight, I told him what I needed, and he listened.