JACK: Ellie’s not going to drop any bombs. She’s a pro. Yeah, we’ve got some issues, and she won’t shy away from reporting on them. But she won’t rake us over the coals.
RYAN: You seem to have her all figured out.
JACK: You’re the one who told me to keep an eye on her. Give her what she needs.
RYAN: Is that what you’re doing?
JACK: What do you mean by that?
RYAN: Exactly what I said. Dude, relax. Why are you so squirrelly today?
JACK: Sorry. Prepping for a big meeting with Walker Dunn. Actually, I’m late—gotta run. Check in with you soon.
RYAN: Okay. Listen—keep close to Ellie for me. I don’t want her getting in over her head. And I don’t want any of our overly confident, jackass brokers getting the wrong idea about my sister. I haven’t had time to touch base with anyone but you, but as far as anyone in that office with a dick is concerned, she’s off-limits.
JACK: Absolutely on the same page there, brother. I’ll spread the word. Talk soon.
CHAPTER 12
Ellie
Day 7 Tues 8/7
“…not going to happen,” Blair mutters into her phone as I’m passing by her office after my chat with Jack’s client. “I’m telling you—there’s no way to trace it back. I’ve crossed every T and… Don’t be paranoid, Will.”
Her door is open a crack, and I can see her leaning against the desk in front of her huge window, her back to the door. She’s obviously talking to Lulu’s crusty boss, and it’s clear from the annoyance in her voice that she’s not getting her way.
“Let me worry about that,” she says. “You just hold up your end of the deal.”
A deal? With Will?
I don’t need a spidey sense to know this conversation is not on the up-and-up, but as much as I’m dying to listen in for something that might help Lulu, I can’t keep lingering outside Blair’s door—not after our run-in outside Ryan’s office. She’ll think I’m snooping on her.
Which I am. But a girl—even one in disguise—can only handle so much snooping in a single bound. Bringing down the hiring manager from hell will have to wait until I slay a few finance-world dragons.
The rest of the day passes in a crazed frenzy, but I make time to pounce on my leftovers for lunch—day-old drunken noodles are even better than fresh, especially when accompanied by memories of the naughty things that came to pass the first time I relished this meal—and I’m still going strong at five-fifty when an email pops into my inbox.
To:Eric_Webb
From: Jack_Holt
Subject: Going to need you to stay late
Hi Eric,
I regret to inform you that I need you to stay late again tonight. I have an issue only you can help me address. Please stop by my office as soon as the floor is empty for the night.
Sincerely,
Jack
Fighting a smile,I’m about to craft a flirty reply, but change my mind when I remember the email waiver I signed on my first day as a fake employee. All S&H emails are subject to monitoring, and I’m not giving anyone here a glimpse into our illicit workplace shenanigans.
Those aremyworkplace shenanigans. Mine and Jack’s.
So instead, I grab my phone and text.
ELLIE:Might the problem be in your pants, Mr. Holt?