Promoted: Secretary to Bride!. Jennie Adams
She clutched her handbag in her fingers.
Was she worried she might lose the contents? Or lose his account card?
‘When I return I’ll get straight to work on the spreadsheet.’ She hurried off into the crowd.
Jarrod stepped into the building, returned to their office suite and made the obligatory phone calls. They netted exactly the results he had expected—namely none.
It galled him to feel his business was even slightly at the mercy of someone’s whispered words. The sooner he and Molly got out there amongst it to set things to rights, the happier he would be. He would talk up business, while Molly spouted facts and figures and information she stored in vast quantities in that geek-girl head of hers.
On these thoughts, Jarrod immersed himself in investment strategy. If once or twice he paused to wonder how long Molly would be, or what her dress would look like, he quickly pushed the thoughts aside.
* * *
‘I’m back.’ Molly spoke the unnecessary words in a sudden fit of nerves as she reentered her office space almost an hour after leaving Jarrod outside the building. She wished she could ask about his parents, about that chilly meeting earlier, but she doubted Jarrod would welcome any questions.
Maybe the couple warmed up when they weren’t in public. ‘I tried not to take too much time. How did the phone calls go? And has anyone else phoned for appointments or anything?’
He sat behind his desk, an array of printed reports spread before him as he clicked through various screens on his computer. At her words he got to his feet and strode towards her. ‘The phone calls went predictably. No one would reveal anything. There have been no other requests for appointments. You got all you needed?’
His gaze shifted to the bag in her hands, and Molly wished she hadn’t spoken at all. She wanted to forget about tonight until she absolutely had to face it. Maybe by then her nerves would be under control and her defences back in place, as she needed them to be.
What if the event was really swanky and she did or said something stupid—stepped on the hem of someone’s designer gown and ripped it right off, like you saw in the movies?
‘Perhaps there won’t be any more damage from the rumours, and, yes, I got a dress.’ And at a reasonable price that wouldn’t make her cringe too much to know he’d paid for it. ‘Right. Well, the first client isn’t due for fifteen minutes, and I’d best study that phone-system so it can’t spring any more surprises on either of us.’
They’d had enough of accidental eavesdropping for the day. ‘But I’ll do it quickly and then get onto the spreadsheet, unless you have other instructions for me?’ She hovered beside the desk and wished he would go back to his.
‘No other instructions for now.’ Jarrod gestured to the bag in her hand. ‘Would you like to hang up your purchase? I have spare hangers in my dressing-room closet.’
‘No!’ She tried to pull herself together. ‘I mean, no thanks. The dress looks quite crushproof, and, if it isn’t, I’ll iron it tonight.’
She didn’t want to go into the inner sanctum of Jarrod’s dressing room. That would require her to walk through his gym room and past his bathroom, which she had avoided doing for the past three years.
Her boss often came to work early, exercised and showered and dressed right here. Molly knew this from the office’s alarm time-records, and because she had glimpsed the rooms now and then when he had his rear-office door open. She didn’t want to get any closer or more knowledgeable, didn’t want to visualise him working out, or under that spray of water.
She had enough trouble to deal with! ‘I have to get moving. There’s a lot to do this afternoon. Seventy-two pages of PDF manual, the spreadsheet, your appointments, plus any other work you want me to do.’
‘And despite today’s disruptions I have investments to manage, which will result in that handing off in about—’ he glanced at the clock on the wall ‘—an hour from now, if I can have my first appointment back out the door in half that time.
‘Good work, Molly. The dress, I mean.’ He turned, walked the few paces to his office and stepped inside. ‘For the rest, I’ll find a way to make up for losing Daniels’s business. I won’t allow these rumours to win out over me.’
‘I know you won’t. I’ll get to work.’ Molly stuffed the bag into her drawer, drew a shaky breath and brought up the phone-manual file on her computer and started to read it.
The first appointment came and went. The client didn’t withdraw her business, but Jarrod’s jaw was tight when Molly made coffee and took it in to him. Appointment number two was worse. The elderly man had made up his mind before he even came through the door. He was out again five minutes later, and Molly knew they’d lost him.
Two more phone calls came in requesting urgent appointments, and they had a walk-in as well whom Jarrod saw immediately.
When the last appointment finally left for the day, Molly had five minutes to go if she wanted to catch her bus. She made her way to Jarrod’s office and stood just inside the door.
He sat strong and straight behind his desk as always. It was only because she knew him so well that she could see the tension beneath the surface.
‘How bad—?’
‘Eight million short-term investment dollars gone, spread across three different clients. Mrs Armiga is sitting on the fence on the issue for now. I successfully reassured the other client.’ His eyes closed briefly in a small sign of weariness he wouldn’t have wanted her to notice. ‘If the clients who withdrew their short-term monies had been able, they’d have taken the rest of their funds today as well.’
The clients had signed investment agreements. ‘They have to honour the arrangements they’ve made with you.’
He shook his head. ‘True in theory, but, with the alternative that they would immediately start legal proceedings to get the funds released, I agreed to transfer control to them. That will be done on Monday.’
Molly’s mouth tightened and angry words burst out. ‘I hope their investments do badly. I hope they buy stocks and bonds that sink without a trace. I hope their favourite underwear gets washed with a colour-leaky red shirt that’s covered in fluff and has paper in the pockets!’
‘I’ll recoup the losses, Molly.’ His low words were warm, calming, a little amused in a grim kind of way—encouraged as well as encouraging?
Jarrod gestured her closer to his desk. ‘I know we’ve run over time. Give me your address details. We need to be at the venue tonight at seven p.m.’ He explained the general location.
She nodded, remembered the whole ‘Mollyrella goes into society’ thing, and her stomach knotted afresh. Well, she couldn’t pull out, could she? Eight million dollars gone already, more on the way.
The three-faceted attack plan needed to be put into action just as much as Jarrod had intimated. ‘The trip should take about half an hour from my flat.’
‘I’ll call for you at six-thirty. Can you be ready in time? If not, I can drive you home now as well.’
He’d never done that, had never offered, or needed to.
‘I could take a taxi both ways tonight.’ Would it cost a lot? Probably. ‘And I can make the bus on time now.’ She shifted in the chair on the other side of his desk and tried not to notice how good he looked backlit by the city’s skyscape—tall buildings, cloudless sky. Battle-sharp hazel eyes watched her so intently.
‘No taxi. I want to brief you further on the way there.’
Right. ‘I’ll just jot down my address, then. It’s on file, but this will be quicker for you.’
And babble out the ridiculous while she was at it. Molly bit her lip, and reached for his sticky notepad and a pen. As she handed