Page 74 of Keeping Kasey
With only a few feet between us, I decide his proximity is putting me on edge.
“We got in early,” Ford says.
Brandon gestures to my screen. “Don’t you think you should be training all of us on installing this system?”
“I wasn’t hired to be your teacher,” I say flatly.
“I should know how the installation works. If something happens, I’m the one responsible for repairing it.”
“You’ll know how to run it. That’s all that matters,” Ford answers.
“And it won’t need repairing,” I add.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Brandon staring a hole in my head.
“I can’t be the only person having an issue with this.”
“You are,” Ford clips.
“Have you even talked to Consoli about it?” Brandon asks. “The others might not have been interested in learning how this works, but I am.”
Ford heaves a sigh and finally relents to meeting Brandon’s eye. “Why don’t you talk to him yourself?”
Brandon’s expression tightens. “Not all of us have a direct line.”
“That’s because Consoli doesn’t need to be bothered by your whining.”
Brandon looks ready to argue the point, but his phone rings. “Yeah? Of course, sir. I’ll let him know, sir.”
He hangs up and looks at Ford again. “Mr. Antonio is requesting you in his office. Something about reviewing files with Matteo.”
“What files?”
Brandon shrugs. “Didn’t say. I can call back to ask if you’d like.”
Ford waves dismissively. “Don’t bother,” he says, and when he looks at me, I can’t tell if he’s more annoyed by the summons or by having to address me directly. “I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Whatever,” I mutter and force myself to focus on the work and not how Brandon is staring at me again.
Awkward silence fills the space, and it’s the first time I’ve wished for Ford to be around.
When awkwardness turns to tension, I get the sudden itch to get out of this office.
As if he reads my mood, Brandon stands and walks to the door, and I thank my lucky stars when he opens it.
But only to peer into the hall before closing… thenlockingthe door.
“What are you doing?” I ask in a measured tone even as my gut twists.
Brandon turns, blocking the door and crossing his arms over his chest. His glare sharpens with an erratic edge that triggers every alarm bell in my head.
“I should be askingyouthat,” he accuses in a whisper-yell.
I suddenly feel the overwhelming urge to call Logan.
“What are you talking about?” I ask and try to ease my body language so he doesn’t realize how much he’s affecting me. I take a calculated risk in looking away from Brandon just long enough to pull up the Pac-Man program I rigged to message Logan directly.
My chair is yanked from the desk, and true fear floods my veins.
