Bonnie looks over. “Ah. A champagne saber. The household already has two of those.”
“I’m not surprised.” I lift it up, still sitting cross-legged in the hallway in my workout clothes.“En garde!Is there no one here to challenge me?”
The front door swings open to reveal Victor. His suit is dark with raindrops, hair tousled and damp. He looks from me to the saber, eyes narrowing.
“We’re taking care of our wedding gifts,” I say. I lower the saber, but with no fancy sheath at hand, I tuck it safely back in the blue Tiffany box.
“I can see that,” he says. “All of this arrived today?”
“Yes. There should be more incoming tomorrow,” Bonnie says. She gets up and carries the kitchen chair back, disappearing down the hallway.
Victor steps closer and a wet, Italian leather shoe appears next to my legging-clad knee. “Well,” he says. “The assistant you recommended was shit.”
I look up at him. He looks enormous from this angle. Twenty feet tall, at least. And both Bonnie and Steven have left me alone and at his mercy.
“Sarah is not shit,” I say. “She came highly recommended and has the perfect temperament for the job.”
“She didn’t pick things up quickly enough.”
“No, because she’s still learning. I’d been working with Mr. Conway for a year when you took over as CEO, so you didn’t have to deal with that. She’s had three days.”
He frowns down at me. “Well, I told her to pack her things. She isn’t likely to come back.”
“No, I guess not. Does that mean you’re calling the second candidate on my recommended list?”
“Yes. Brian.”
“Brad.”
“Right.” He steps past me and disappears into the kitchen without another word, and so I reach for another present. I’ve just snapped a picture of it when Victor appears again.
He has a beer in hand and the rained-on suit jacket is gone. In its place is another of his crisp, white shirts. He starts to roll up a sleeve, inch by inch. “She didn’t color-code my calendar the way you did.”
“Sarah?”
“Miss Fleming, yes.”
“Well, and I hate to point this out again, shehadonly been there for three days.”
“I need you to train the next assistant.” He takes a swig of his beer, a furrow in his brow. “I’ve been getting calls of congratulations all day with no one to screen them. I don’t know how the hell our marriage got out.”
“Well, don’t look at me. I didn’t call the tabloids.”
“I didn’t think you did.” He leans against the wall and looks from me to the assortments of goods spread out around us.
I clear my throat. “Well, you’re just in time to see me open our final gift.”
“Because that will make my day better.” He bends and grabs a card lying on top of a cashmere blanket. His face harden as he reads. “I haven’t spoken to these people in a decade.”
“Well, that’s nice,” I say. “That they’d send something.”
“Sure. Not like they’re kissing ass or anything.”
“There might have been some of that. Your bank sent us flowers.”
Victor snorts, taking another sip of his beer. “Have your pick of this crap.”
“Are you sure you don’t want another champagne saber for your collection?”