Page 274 of Tormented Billionaire Romance Series

“You can go right in,” the woman says. “Also, I wouldn’t worry too much if you fainted when you first met him. A surprisingly large number of people lose bladder control.”

And now I have to pee.

“Thanks,” I say, only she doesn’t know it’s not appreciation.

“Go,” she says. “Otherwise, that crowd down there staring at you is probably going to lose its patience.”

“And they’d feel better if I go in?” I ask.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” she says. “It’s been nice to meet you, but I’ve got a lot of things that aren’t you to deal with.”

It’s not the best thing anyone’s ever said to me, but she reaches out her hand, and I take it. I’m expecting a shake, but as soon as those vice-like fingers of hers wrap around my hand, she yanks me into the room, saying, “Now talk.”

The hotel conference room, a thirty-foot by forty-foot space, is now a series of makeshift offices surrounding cubicles. The offices are all tan canvas, military-style tents.

“Hey!” Zach’s voice comes from the corner to my right. He’s sitting at a desk, in an open-doored tent, leafing through files. “I hope you don’t mind, but I have to make a very quick phone call,” he says. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

In a surrealist way, Zach looks like some commanding officer, though I don’t think too many of those wear Armani suits on duty. It’s not just the tents, either.

“Yeah,” Zach says into his phone. “Get over to Fifth and tell them this isn’t going to work for us. They’re trying to screw us because they know we’re relocating, but do me a favor and remind them that without me, they don’t have a company. If they give you any hassle, you know what to do.” Without waiting for an answer, Zach hangs up the phone, saying, “Grace, I must say I’m a bit surprised to see you here.”

It occurs to me that with all this time I’ve been waiting, I could have figured out what I wanted to say. “Yeah,” I answer.

He smiles, but after a period of silence I can’t begin to quantify, the smile fades. “Grace?” he asks.

“Yeah?” I return.

“You’re not saying anything. Are you all right?” he asks.

I’m looking around at the room, wondering where everyone is. I’m not sure exactly how long it takes me to realize he asked me a question. “Huh?” I ask.

“So, what brings you here this morning?” he asks. “I was under the impression you’d decided not to pick up the option.”

“Mr. Scipio,” I start.

“Please,” he says, “call me Zach.”

“Zach,” I say, “it occurs to me that I may not have been entirely polite.”

“How so?” he asks.

His phone rings before I can respond.

“Sorry,” he says as he picks up the phone on his desk. “I thought I told you to hold my calls,” he says. An instant later, he’s nodding and jotting something down on one corner of one of the papers in front of him. “I’ve got it,” he says. “Tell them if it makes it all the way to the quarter, we can talk, but the index is still recalibrating and it might not … Yeah, exactly. Thanks,” he says. Just for good measure, he adds, “No calls now.”

“Mr. Scipio,” I say as he answers the phone.

“Call me Zach,” he says. “What’s on your mind?”

I freeze. The truth is I’m curious. I don’t tell him that, though.

“You know,” I start, “it’s revealing that you went after me so hard that first day, but I haven’t heard anything from you since.”

Hey, there we go. This whole thing was his idea. I don’t see why I have to be the one to make the effort.

“I don’t have your phone number,” he says.

All right, that’s a reasonable explanation.

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