Page 8 of Perfect Proposal
“Hey, Dave. It’s Becks. Is Carrie there?”
“I’ll see if she has time.” Knowing she’ll take the call for the moneymaking asshole, I school my features before advising her, “Beckett Miller is on line one. Would you like for me to have him call back since you have a call in ten minutes with the Neo Casting Agency?”
She’s already shaking her head. “I’ll take it in my office. Wait two minutes after I go back in before transferring it. But for all that’s holy, interrupt the call when Neo calls? I’m not blowing that over Becks’s temper tantrum over finding out his latest piece is on the cover of the tabloids with another man.”
“Of course.” But I can’t prevent the smirk as she sashays back into her office.
“And do something about those flowers, David.” My head whips arounds. “Find out who sent them. That person deserves a personal thank-you.”
What. The. Fuck? “Absolutely,” I growl.
And it’s moments like this when I’m damn glad I’ve made the decisions I have because the door closing behind her tells me she’s back in full-on boss mode.
Glaring at my computer, I realize I have six hours until this day ends and Carys and I can go home to make some very hard decisions.
Four
David
“Secrets aren’t a good thing,” I read aloud on another dozen roses, these ones blush pink with a bright pink rim, delivered by a different courier two hours later. I spent almost that whole time trying to find out from the first florist who ordered the beautiful blooms with absolutely no luck.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the store owner said snootily. “For privacy reasons, no, I can’t give you a description ofanyindividual who ordered from us. You said you work for an attorney? I’m certain they can advise you of that.” Right before they hung up.
I was only mildly irritated before. Now, with a second delivery, I’m beginning to panic. “Son of a bitch,” I curse. Did Carys pick up some kind of crazed stalker at one of the clubs? Some of the places we go to in order to check out our new clients aren’t exactly in the best parts of the tristate area. Scrubbing my hands over my shaved head, I wonder, “Maybe the guy who wouldn’t leave her alone at that place in Fort Washington…”
“What are you meandering about, David?” Carys’s impatient voice comes from behind me.
“You got another delivery,” I tell her somberly. Handing over the card, she scans it, before tossing the card onto the desk almost exactly next to the other.
“I can’t think about this right now. Did you finish the preliminary contract for Erzulie?”
I push to my feet and walk to the cabinet housing our discreet printer. “Everything’s right here.”
“Excellent.” She begins flipping through the papers quickly. “Their agent is dropping by for a draft this afternoon. I want to be able to bring them in to finalize the signing this week.”
“That should work.” Then I stiffen. “This week?”
“Yes. Why?”
“You’re booked solid all week.”
“Well, can’t we move anything around?” she snaps. “Erzulie decided to go with us as her attorney of record despite the full package being offered from her recording labels. This is an enormous deal for us.”
“I’m well aware of that,Burke.” I place an emphasis on her last name as I lose my grip on my own temper. “But first, I’m not your damn assistant, Angie is. And second, even if I were, which of the other five major deals that you booked this week would you like to push back? Because according to you, they’re all important!” By the time I’m done, I’m breathing hard.
Her aqua eyes turn into shards of ice. But before she can open her mouth to retort, I keep going. “Maybe this isn’t quite working out the way we expected it to, Carys.” I try for gentle, but she recoils as if I’d just slapped her.
“What? Us?”
“No!” I rush to get out. “Car, that’s not what I’m saying at all!” I move to touch her, but she holds up a hand.
“I apologize if I’ve been stepping over the bounds of your work responsibilities. I’ll call Angie in to figure things out.”
“Carys,” I start, but she simply turns around on her stiletto heel and heads back into her office, closing the door softly behind her.
I wish she’d have slammed it because then I would have felt better and not so damn guilty about having what amounts to a nervous breakdown over what I’m about to do on our anniversary combined with this crazed worry about wondering if Carys has a stalker.
Moving back to my desk, I pick up the phone to call the second florist. “Hello. My name is David Lennan. An order was just delivered with no signature on the card. Is there any way to find out who sent it?”
