Follow Me Darkly (Follow Me #1) - Helen Hardt Page 0,41
emails and checking all the posts for comments I may have missed over the weekend. I’ve got my nose buried in paperwork when someone enters the office.
“Good morning,” a female voice says.
I look away from the computer screen. An attractive brunette stands in front of my desk.
“Hi there,” I say. “May I help you?”
“I’m Kay Brown from the Boston Babbler.”
The Boston Babbler—our local tabloid rag that follows Addie around as if she were the Grateful Dead. “I’m afraid Addison isn’t in. Did you have an appointment?” I quickly access Addie’s calendar.
“No, I don’t.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not sure when she’ll be in.”
“I’m actually here to talk to you, Ms. Manning.”
I jerk in my chair. Did I hear her right?
“I’d like to talk to you about the photo of you and Braden Black at the MADD gala.”
“My name wasn’t on the photo.”
“It only took a bit of research to identify you.”
“A bit of research?”
“You’re Addison Ames’s assistant. You aren’t hard to find.”
“Exactly how—”
“I don’t disclose my sources. Suffice it to say I know everyone in this city.”
I nod. Including the event organizers, no doubt. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“So you’re not dating Braden Black?”
I stand. “I believe I said I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“That is you in the photo, though?”
“No comment.”
“Ms. Manning, you’re going to be outed sooner or later. I’d like to be the first to get the scoop on Braden Black’s new paramour.”
“Paramour? Are you kidding me? No comment.” I check my watch. “I’ve got a lunch date.”
“It’s eleven.”
“Yeah, I eat early. Since Addie’s not in, I need to close up the office. Please excuse me.” I grab my purse and walk out from behind the desk.
Just as Braden walks into the office.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Kay,” Braden says. “I can’t say I’m surprised to see you here, since you’ve already called my office three times today.”
“Mr. Black.” She holds out her hand. “A pleasure as always.”
He takes her hand and shakes it firmly. “If you’ll excuse us, I need to talk to Skye.”
“Of course. How long have you two been dating?”
I gulp. His answer to this question is far more important to me than it is to Kay. He certainly won’t say we’re sleeping together.
Then again, this is Braden. I’ve heard him say many things I never expected.
“We only met about a week ago,” he says.
“And your date at the gala?”
“We didn’t arrive together,” he says. “Ms. Manning and I saw each other at the gala and talked a bit.”
Another gulp. His response is clear and concise. I just wish he said we were dating.
“Your lunch date, Ms. Manning, is with Mr. Black?” Kay asks.
“No, it’s—”
“Yes, it is,” Braden says. “Are you ready, Skye?”
I clear my throat. At least this will get rid of Kay. “Yeah, I’m ready. I need to lock up.”
“Of course.” Kay walks out the door and then turns and looks over her shoulder. “I’ll be in touch. With both of you.” She turns and leaves.
“Thanks for the save,” I say. “I thought she was here to see Addie.”
“I figured she’d bother you this morning after she called my office and mentioned you by name.”
“You came here to warn me?”
“In part.”
“In part?”
“Yeah. I thought you might be up for an early lunch.”
“Sorry. I’m meeting Tessa in an hour.”
He narrows his eyes and his gaze seems to melt me. “Cancel.”
Cancel.
One word. One unremarkable word in his deep, raspy voice, and I want to obey him without question.
I grasp the edge of my desk to keep from toppling over. “I can’t. Tess and I always have lunch on Mondays.” And most other days, for that matter, unless one of us is working over the noon hour.
My phone buzzes. It’s Tessa. “Excuse me for a minute,” I say to Braden. “Hey, Tess.”
“You’re never going to believe what happened. A courier just delivered a package to my office from Braden.”
“Oh?” A sliver of jealousy knifes through me.
“Yeah. It’s my dress, Skye. Or a perfect replica. I can’t even believe it. I told you not to worry about it.”
I clear my throat. “He said he’d replace it.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say this is the exact dress, but it can’t be. It doesn’t have a label.”
“Hold on a minute.” I mute the phone and turn to Braden. “She got the dress.”
“Good.”
“She says it’s perfect. Did you get it repaired?”
“It was beyond repair, as you know.”
“Then how did you…?”
“I gave the remains to my personal tailor yesterday, along with your Instagram photo. He was able to replicate it.”