Page 27 of Crushing Clover

Humiliation prickled through me. Uncertainly, we stared at each other.

She dropped her bags on the desk and smiled awkwardly. “I hope you don’t mind, but I have some paperwork to catch up on. I don’t usually come in today, but I’m behind as it is.”

“I’ll try not to talk your ear off then.”

She settled in, opening ledgers and scratching away with a pencil. Her methods seemed very old-school. I had the urge to ask her why she wasn’t using a computer program, but it was none of my business.

It was so weird being in a situation like this without a phone to use as a shield. I could have been scrolling through social media or playing a game, but instead I was trying not to watch her and trying not to look hopelessly bored. My scrolling thumb felt like it was going through withdrawal.

I took a moment to be grateful that I had the opportunity to be bored. Boredom and a plush couch were a much better fate than the torture and squalor I could have been living with.

Despite the company, I soon found myself dozing off again. The office was air conditioned, but even so, heat from the kitchen invaded, making me as toasty as the fresh bread I could smell.

After maybe thirty minutes, the door swung open again and Saint John strode in. He froze partway into the room, realizing we weren’t alone.

“What are you doing here, Spring?” His tone was neutral, but his eyes were suspicious.

“Well, hello to you, too. I was behind on payroll, so I figured I’d come in today to catch up. Am I in the way?”

The frustration rolling off him was palpable, but he said, “No, of course not. Take all the time you need.”

He gave me a sharp look, and I shrugged helplessly. It wasn’t as though I’d had any control over his accountant or bookkeeper or whatever showing up unexpectedly. He glanced down and looked at the cuff on my ankle, which was completely visible, even from the door. Again, not my fault. He’d put it there in the first place. If he’d wanted it hidden, he should have thrown a blanket on it or something.

Rather than going back to the kitchen, he hovered, and soon she rose and gathered her things. “Actually, I’ve got everything I need. I think I’m going to finish up at home.”

“That’s not necessary,” he assured her.

“Oh, I know. I’ll be more comfortable at my kitchen table.” She gave him a tight smile and slid the paperwork into her tote. “Goodbye, Kate. Nice to meet you.”

She left and closed the door behind her. Saint John was practically vibrating.

“Youintroducedyourself to her?”

“What else could I do? I used a fake name, at least.”

His glare was so fierce, I was amazed it didn’t burn dual holes through my body. “You weren’t supposed to speak to anyone. That was one of the only two rules I gave you.”

“She was going to call the cops. She saw the cuff on my ankle and freaked out—and that was after she freaked out because she thought I was Arabella.”

He snorted.

“I think she assumed you’d kidnapped me or something.”

“For what?” he snapped. “The last thing we need is a woman underfoot.”

And yet, they were going to be stuck with me as long as I could possibly manage to keep it that way.

“I’m sorry. I’ll do my best to keep my mouth shut. I panicked and didn’t know what else to do.”

He paced, clenching and unclenching his hands in frustration. “We don’t have time for this. We don’t have time for you,” he said, quietly but vehemently. “Every time I think I’m almost out, he pulls me back in.”

I pressed my lips together sympathetically. “Family can be so toxic.” Or so I’d heard.

“Let me be clear—there will never be a period of time where I want your input or commentary on anything. I’m not looking for a confidante or a sounding board. Not another fucking word out of that mouth.”

I opened my mouth to say I understood, but the warning look he gave me was enough to shut me up.

He sat down at the desk Spring had so recently vacated and rubbed his face with a sigh. “I gave you two simple rules, and you couldn’t even follow them for a couple of hours.”

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