30 Days (Lost Love Trilogy #1) - Belle Brooks Page 0,32
to me this morning.”
Asher looks puzzled.
“Long story,” I call out, entering the room where the photocopier is housed before closing the door behind me.
“Please don’t let Marcus come in here,” I mutter quietly, loading the documents into the machine. He doesn’t come, and I’m relieved.
Jasmine is none the wiser about my tardiness, so the day goes off without a hitch. Well, that is, until four o’clock when she enters my office holding an envelope.
“Abigail, you have done a good job today.”
Praise, really? “Thank you.” I wait for a sarcastic lecture about how she was joking, and I actually didn’t perform well at all. It doesn’t come.
Sitting across from me, she passes me the envelope.
My hands shake as I remove it from her grip. “What’s this? My letter of dismissal?”
Her eyes narrow. “No. Why would you think that?”
I’m a cursed, wreck of a person is why? “No reason.” I take a moment. I’m strangely relieved I get to stay. “So what is it?”
“Open the envelope and we’ll discuss the contents.” She waits patiently.
My shaky fingers tear the seal open. “A plane ticket?” I gasp. Each line of information makes me more confused as I read, trying to understand what I’m indeed seeing is correct. “Sydney, departing Sunday afternoon. Why?”
Jasmine takes a long inhale then places her hands heavily onto the table. As she does this, I notice how tired she looks. Maybe her day has been extra hectic. Perhaps all her days are.
“We need you to assist another one of our solicitors for a week in our Sydney office. We have a big family court case being heard, and we need the extra hands.”
“I’ve only been here for two days. Surely I’m underqualified to assist?”
“These are my orders from above, and travel is part of the job.”
“Since when?”
She doesn’t reply.
“Well, is it for Mr Sims?”
“No, he only does property and contract law. Mr Klein does family and criminal law, so you’ll be assisting him.”
“I don’t even know who he is. Why aren’t his assistants going?”
Jasmine tuts then shakes her head. Is she annoyed by my questions? “Both have been struck down with influenza and are very sick.”
It dawns on me this is probably why I haven’t seen Marcus today. He’s sick. Or pretending. Fuck, what if he is sick? Maybe I’ll get this flu before the weekend. Should I tell Jasmine? What would I say? So I fucked Marcus last night. You see, I didn’t mention I’m a big whore on my application. That’s because prior to last night I wasn’t one, but now I am, and I’m probably going to be out of action before Sunday. Anyway, if the flu is that bad, find someone else. I shake my head. What a freaking mess!
“Why can’t you go? Or one of the other personal assistants?” My fingers press hard into my suddenly pulsing temples that threaten a killer headache.
“Because we’re needed here. Look, you’ll do fine. I’ll give you a folder with all your duties for the week and the case notes before you leave. You can take tomorrow off to prepare and to look through the documentation. On early Sunday evening, you’ll catch the flight. Your food and accommodation are taken care of and everything you’ll need is provided. Mr Klein will meet you on the plane. You’ll be seated with him and can run through the week’s itinerary.” Jasmine takes a breath as hope fills her gaze. Hope I just do as I’m told, I’m sure.
“Fine,” I say.
“Good. Now finish up what you’re doing and then come by my office. Everything you need is there. I forgot to bring it with me.”
“Right.” The door closes softly before my head drops to the table. At least I won’t have to face Marcus. Plus, I get a free trip away. This might be what I need in my life right now.
***
At the end of the day, I greet Bertha with tired eyes and a massive binder. The drive home is so slow I take micro-sleeps at the traffic lights.
Mum greets me at the door. “Abigail, good, you’re here. Do you want to come for a walk with me?” She’s dressed in workout gear and sneakers. I’m guessing she wants to go sooner rather than later.
“Walking is exercise. I don’t exercise.” I roll my eyes and place my bag—including the binder—onto the table.
“The fresh air will do you good, petal. We can talk.”