Billionaire's Escort

I picked up the phone.

“Hard Tail Security, this is Daisy,” I said.

There was static on the line, like whoever was calling was doing so from a car moving at high speed, with all of the windows rolled down.

“Hello?” I said. “I’m sorry—could you repeat that? I can’t understand you very well. The call is breaking up.”

It was a woman, I could tell that much, and it sounded like she was asking for Ian.

The static died down a bit. “Is Ian there?”

“Um . . .” I looked back toward his door. “He’s not available at the moment. Could I take your name and number and I’ll have him give you a call back a little later?”

“No,” she said, and hung up.

I looked at the receiver for a second before I set the phone back down on the cradle. Well, that hadn’t gone as stellar as I had hoped. But, I had answered the call, and not let it keep ringing.

Just then, Ian’s office door opened. He stepped out, wearing a completely different outfit than he had before. Except the shirt—that was the same.

He seemed surprised to see me there. “Oh,” he said. “Where’s Jonathan?”

“He’s in his office. He had to take a call.”

“Did you just answer the phone?”

“I did. I wasn’t sure if you were going to get it or not—”

“I wasn’t. Which is why we hired you.”

“Yes, I know.”

“And how did you answer the phone?”

I looked at him. “How did I answer it? What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I just said. What did you say when you answered the phone?”

“Oh. Well, Jonathan didn’t tell me what to say, but I think I said something along the lines of, Hello, Hard Tail Security, this is Daisy.”

He nodded. “That works. You don’t need to identify yourself, though. In fact, I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“Sure,” I said. “I’ve always done so in the past because it makes it a little more personable, but I don’t have to keep doing it.”

“The secretary doesn’t need to get personable with the clients,” he said. “Unless I decide she does, at which point, I will let you know. What else did Jonathan go over with you?”

“Um . . . not too much yet. I think he’s going to do more when he gets done with the phone call. I’m really sorry about spilling the coffee like that, by the way. Are your pants okay?” I had meant to ask if he was okay, but ended up saying that instead.

He gave me a funny look. “Uh, yeah, they’re great,” he said. “They were really hoping to go for that antiquated look that only spilled coffee can seem to achieve.”

I smiled; he did

n’t. Great. I snuck a glance toward Jonathan’s office, though he showed no signs of reappearing. Ian followed my gaze, a bemused expression on his face.

“The main things we’d like you to do here are answer the phones, make sure the place stays neat, so that means filing any paperwork, restocking supplies as necessary, emptying the trash. Jonathan and I will periodically have a list of things for you to do aside from what I just mentioned, but I think it’d be good for you to start with the basics.”

“Sure,” I said. “I can definitely handle all of that.”

He nodded. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”