Sleight of Hand (Blackbridge Security 7) - Page 32

“Oh,” he says, nodding as Mila giggles before shuffling back out of the room.

“My wife,” Mrs. Miller says as she passes the parking validation slip to me on her way back behind her desk.

“Fuck.” Gaige slaps his hand over his mouth, pulling a smile from Mrs. Miller for the first time since we entered her office. “Sorry. I mean, yeah, sorry for the slip, but also the flirting.”

“I’m sure it normally works,” she says. Shaking her head at his ridiculousness, I know that I could easily be friends with this woman.

“What about contract work,” I spit before she can dismiss us, all the while hoping I’m not breaking any Blackbridge rules.

This wasn’t covered in the contract, and it definitely hasn’t been discussed between Gaige and me since we’ve said as little to each other as possible. Maybe this is why Deacon insisted I have someone with me for liability reasons. But Gaige doesn’t speak up.

“In what capacity?” Mrs. Miller asks, leaning forward with her elbows on the desk, genuinely intrigued.

“Blackbridge Security gets calls from all over the world. Financially it would make more sense and also for timeline and expediency purposes to have people the company trusts to handle issues in California. Also, Gaige hasn’t passed the Bar Exam here yet.”

I feel his eyes burning into the side of my head, but hell, that’s a matter of public record and literally everyone has access to Google.

Her smile widens.

“That is something I would consider.”

“So I have a maybe?”

She nods. “You have a maybe.”

I stand, holding my hand out. I know when to exit a meeting.

“We’ll have something drawn up for you to take a look at. Thank you for your time, Mrs. Miller.”

“Janine, please,” she says as she releases my hand.

I’m on a damn cloud when I walk out of the office, but I don’t know how long the high will last. I may have very easily overstepped my bounds with what I just pulled in there. My first job lasted fourteen years. There’s no reason why my second shouldn’t last less than fourteen hours.

“You did good in there,” Gaige says once we’re settled back inside of the hired car. “Thinking on your feet. Good call.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. I don’t need his praise, but I do need this job, so I’ll take the win any way I can get it.

“Did you know she was gay?”

I huff a laugh, shaking my head at his ridiculous question as I watch the buildings pass by, but I keep my mouth closed.

“One hour until dinner?” he asks as the driver parks in front of the hotel.

“Excuse me?”

“Dinner. It’s required.”

I clench my jaw.

“We discussed this. It’s in the contract. We need to be better prepared for tomorrow’s meeting.”

“I was prepared for today’s meeting,” I counter. If you don’t count my wrinkled clothes and bad attitude from the horrible morning I had. “I’m not the one who thought I could flirt with a woman, thinking it would change her mind.”

“Jealous?”

I huff, climbing out of the car and racing to the elevator. The man is infuriating.

Chapter 15

Gaige

I take my time while showering, needing the solitude as a distraction, but it doesn’t keep my mind from her. Nothing seems to be able to do that these days, and I kind of hate myself for it. I feel manipulated somehow. I’m a smooth talker. Always have been. Most lawyers are. I’ve perfected the skill over the years, honed those talents long before I ever stepped foot my first day into law school. It aids me daily in my tasks of acquisitions for Blackbridge.

Those skills were on hiatus today, nowhere to be found. It seems I left them in the back of my closet in St. Louis. I shave after my long shower, deciding to be fashionably late to dinner. She kept me waiting on the plane, so it only serves her right to sit waiting for me a few minutes this evening. I spend a few minutes longer than necessary shaving, then even more picking my favorite shirt and denim jeans that I know look amazing on me. By the time I’m riding the elevator down to the restaurant, I’m ten minutes past the time I told her to be here. She’s not waiting up front, but as I’m pulling out my phone, thinking she’s stood me up completely, I see her already sitting.

Only she isn’t exactly waiting. Leighton Redmond is already halfway through her meal. From the looks of it, she rode the elevator up to her room, dropped her work portfolio off, and rode the damn thing back down and was sat at a table. She’s eaten an appetizer, a salad, and has consumed more than half of her entrée already. I’d frown if she didn’t look like she was in hog heaven with all the food and empty plates surrounding her. I know they’re still there to prove a point. She had to have told the waiter to leave the empty dishes. The hotel is too upscale for the waiter to leave them on the table as the next course was delivered.

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