“Wait,” Katie says, her eyes lighting up. “You’re staying? Tell me you’re staying here with us?”
“I am staying,” I confirm, “but I’ll be back on the Riptide payroll as of January one, working here with Hawk Legal and their clients.” I hope that’s how this works, I think silently, but decide I’ll figure it out later. Someone will pay me. I’m really not worried about that particular point.
“So, you’re basically working for Riptide and Hawk. My God, talk about a dream job.” She does this little bow thing over and over and backs out of the office with a grin, as she adds. “Queen Allie.”
No, I think. I am not the queen. That title is taken and well deserved. But this is a dream job and I made it happen. I’m proud of myself. And on that note, being a protégée to said queen has worked up an appetite. I’m starving—quite literally my stomach is growling. Having already warned Dash I have to stay in today for lunch, I scoop up some work and head to the cafeteria. It’s a good half hour later when I’m at a table, scarfing my food, and pecking away at my keyboard when someone sits down in front of me. I blink with the realization that it’s Benjamin.
“Hello, Allison,” he says.
As with yesterday, his suit is expensive, and his eyes are a bit too probing. The crinkles by his eyes and the gray in his dark hair I’d been too busy guarding the journal last time to notice tell me he’s mid-forties not mid-thirties. Not that the gray doesn’t suit him. Men always get away with that older, distinguished, worldly look, while women just get out the hair dye. Or we don’t know we’re gray because we already had out the hair dye and we’d prefer it that way.
“Allie,” I say. “Call me Allie.”
“I’ve asked my secretary, Jessica, to get in touch with you this afternoon and offer her aid. I’m going to be traveling soon while she is not.”
“That’s really not necessary.”
“And yet, it is,” he says. “I must admit I’m intrigued by the auction. This is not something we’ve done for our clients in the past. Last year was an informal event and we certainly didn’t have Riptide involved. On that note, I’ll also admit I’d like to be a part of what I believe to be a leg up for Hawk Legal. This is a service no one else is offering their clients. That we’re partnering with Riptide means it’s not likely to be duplicated.”
“You know about Riptide,” I comment.
“I’ve been asking questions since meeting you, Allie. I won’t get that wrong again. No more Allison. You might look like her, but you most definitely are not her.”
My brows furrow. “What does that mean?”
“Well, for one thing, she’s gone, and I understand you’ll be staying.”
“Most people are surprised she’s gone.”
“I’m not,” he says. “Not at all.” His cellphone rings and he pulls back his jacket, snagging his phone from an inner pocket. After a glance at the caller ID, he says, “Gotta take this. It’s a studio exec.” He winks and gives me a two-finger wave, and then he’s on his feet, answering his call, and walking away.
I watch him leave and wonder why he isn’t surprised that Allison is gone when everyone else seems to be. Well, except Tyler, who was sleeping with her. I grab my phone and text Dash: Any word from Neil? Especially on Benjamin? I just had a weird encounter with him.
Dash calls me. I answer and he says, “Do you know how much I don’t want you in that place right now?”
“I wouldn’t know you if it weren’t for this place.”
“But you do now. What happened?”
I replay the conversation. He’s silent a moment and then says, “I haven’t heard from Neil, but I left him a message this morning.”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t like any of it, Allie.”
“We’re doing good things to help people, Dash—you and me and the charity.”
“I’ll happily donate whatever you think the auction will make to get you out of this.”
“Up to five hundred thousand.”
“Okay. I’ll write the damn check.”
I sometimes forget how rich Dash is because he doesn’t flaunt his money. “It’s only a month, Dash. After that, I can work from home, at least most of the time. And hopefully, Neil will find Allison.” I glance up to find Katie walking toward me. “Katie is looking panicked. I need to go.”
“Be careful, baby.”
“I will. I promise.”
We say a quick goodbye, and disconnect just as Katie sits down in front of me and starts rambling about a difficult client who’s a country singer. “I’ll call him. I’ll handle it.”
“You’re so comfortable with these high-profile people. I guess because you’re seeing Dash Black, right?”
Obviously, that’s a topic she really wanted to bring up. “I live with Dash, Katie.”