Page 75 of Receiving His Mercy
“Oh, yes, sorry.” She took a deep breath in and let it out. She really should have taken the subway to get to her appointment this morning, but she’d been feeling too distracted. She just hadn’t wanted to deal with crowds.
Why wasn’t he adding anything more to that text?
Was that it? Was that all he was going to say?
Her phone beeped again. Another message from Travis.
Open it.
Urgh.
Don’t open it.
God. She’d never been this indecisive in her life! It was frustrating.
“Um, ma’am?”
“Yes?” she said distractedly.
“We’re here.”
She glanced out at the tall building next to them. Right.
“Thank you. Sorry.” Grabbing her handbag, she stepped out of the car and approached the door. The doorman opened it and she gave him a small smile.
Just open the message.
“Ma’am? Ma’am? Do you have an appointment?” A stern-looking security guard stepped in front of her and she stared up at him in surprise.
He was eyeing her with some confusion mixed with disapproval. She guessed that they didn’t get many people in here who wore an orange fluffy scarf with a pink velvet ankle-length jacket. And then there was her headband. She hadn’t had the energy to do her hair this morning so she’d just brushed it and used a pink headband to keep it off her face. It also helped hide the lump on her forehead.
“Oh. Yes. I’ve got an appointment with Oliver Claire. My name is Caren Stanford. Sorry. I was distracted.”
He grunted. She bit her lip. She was guessing he wasn’t impressed with her excuse.
“Mr. Cain is ready for you. Here is a visitor badge. Take the elevator to the eighth floor.”
“Right. Thanks.” This was her second time visiting Oliver since she’d arrived in New York. And she wasn’t sure why he liked working in this building. It was so new and . . . and kind of soulless. There wasn’t a lot of sun out today but what little sun there was streamed in and reflected off the shiny tile floors. She could only imagine what it would be like on a full summer’s day. Right now, it was starting to give her a headache.
She headed upstairs in the elevator. When she exited there was a younger girl waiting for her. She wore a pair of wide-leg black pants with a white shirt. A black belt cinched in her tiny waist. Her hair was kind of wild and she barely had on any make-up. She was decidedly different from the assistants that Oliver usually hired. She stared hard at Caren which was a bit odd, but Caren shook it off.
“Wow, you’re gorgeous.”
The girl’s intense stare turned to one of surprise, her eyes widening. “S-sorry?”
“You’re gorgeous. Stunning. Surely someone has told you that before?”
“I . . . I . . . well, not really.” She went bright red.
How odd.
Caren thought she would have heard that every day.
“Isabel!” Oliver snapped as he walked out. “You were supposed to bring Caren straight in to me.”
“My fault,” Caren told him as Isabel flinched. “I was just telling Isabel that she’s stunning.”
Oliver paused and blinked, then turned to look at the girl. “Oh. Yes. Well.”
