Wait. Barrett always has a silver pen in his hand. In fact, he sent me an email yesterday telling me to order a box of pens for him. He underlined the requirement that I order the black ink model, not the blue ink one. He included a link to the website he wants me to order them from. It just so happens to be the biggest retail site on the planet. I buy virtually everything there. Duke did too, which is why I set up a corporate account for Garent Industries on the site.
I slide the crossword back under the file folder. If I ignore the fact that he was snooping around my desk, maybe he will forget that I’ve been doing crosswords on company time.
I wake my laptop with a tap on the screen. Navigating to the shopping site, I send a text to Max on my phone.
Bella: Missing you.
I key in the brand of pen and black ink into the search bar on the site. Two different options pop up.
My gaze drifts to my phone when a new message arrives.
Max: If it isn’t my rich best friend. I thought you forgot all about me.
Laughing, I type out a response with one finger.
Bella: Not possible. Dinner tonight?
I click on the black ink pens that Barrett can’t live without. I choose the two hundred count box because it’s the most economical. Clicking on the ‘add to cart’ button, I catch sight of a new text message out of the corner of my eye.
Max: Calvetti’s? At seven? I miss your grandma almost as much as I miss you.
Bella: She misses you too.
The sound of the elevator pinging its arrival sets my back straight in my chair. I type out another text.
Bella: I think my boss is back from lunch. I need to go.
The elevator doors spring open and Barrett strolls out. His eyes don’t leave mine as he stalks toward my desk.
A chime from my cell goes ignored because I won’t lose this staring contest with my boss. As he nears, his gaze drops to my computer.
“What are you working on, Isabella?” he asks smugly. “I told you earlier that I want the quarterly sales reports for Stems & Scents on my desk by five. Are you still on track for that?”
“I’m ordering those pens you like.” I tap a finger over the place order button. “That’s done, and the sales reports are done. You’ll find them on your desk organized by date.”
His expression gives nothing away. Why would it? He fired a long-time employee, and he hasn’t batted an eyelash. In fact, I think he went out to celebrate. A woman named Felicity called the office this morning wanting to speak to him about their lunch plans. I patched her through to his phone only to hear him laughing before he ended the call and waltzed out of here like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Smug jerk.
He starts toward his office door before he turns back to me. “One last thing.”
Shutting my laptop, I glance over at him. “What’s that?”
“This was dropped off for you at reception.” He yanks a white envelope out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket. “Carol or Cheryl or whatever her name is that works the desk handed it to me on my way up. It’s for you.”
“For me?” I hold out my hand.
“There’s no return address.” He taps the corner of the envelope against his palm. “It’s marked personal and confidential.”
I wiggle my fingers, curiosity nipping at me. “Give it to me, please.”
He slides it into my hand, his fingers grazing mine briefly. “Here you go.”
My gaze drops to the envelope. I don’t recognize the handwriting. “Thank you.”
When I look up, his eyes search mine for something, but I can’t place it. Clearing his throat, he says, “I’ll look over those sales reports now.”
I wait until he’s in his office with the door closed before I slide a fingernail under the seal and open the envelope.