Page 20 of Carrying Your Lies
“Xavier’s in a bad mood as well. Maybe there’s something in the air.”
I peer over my shoulder into Xavier’s office. He aggressively types on his laptop, utterly unaware of the world around him.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Personal bodyguard left his post, and a client’s house got broken into.” Her eyes widen. “Incoming.”
“Francesca,” Xavier calls. He stops beside us. “Get in touch with Mr Brady. Within the next hour.” He doesn’t acknowledge me as he rushes off. His musky scent lingers in his absence, and I take a moment to bask in it.
“I thought you said he was in a bad mood?”
“Thatishim in a bad mood.” She gathers her papers and briskly walks to her desk to follow her orders.
I watch in a daze as the copier fires out papers. I envy Francesca. If that was how Huxley spoke to me while in a bad mood, I would relax in this job. Instead, I get yelled at like a child.I’m over it.
I walk back to the office with purpose. He wants me to only follow his orders?Fine. I leave the papers on my desk and resume my seat. I check for any meeting requests and cancellations.
“Do you plan on taking my meeting?” he asks.
I look at him with innocence. “You didn’t explicitly tell me to leave the copies on your desk.”
His eye twitches as he realises I will make him regret his tantrum. “Savannah—” A knock at the door renders him silent. “What can I do for you, Kingsley?”
Kingsley looks between Huxley and me before clearing his throat. “I actually came to speak to Savannah.”
I smile at the new friend I made at lunch last week. “What can I do for you?”
He takes a few steps to my desk. “I was going to check out that burger place you recommended. Do you want to join me?”
Kingsley is not my type. He’s average-looking but boring. He doesn’t get my heart racing or my thighs clenching, at least not like the man on the other side of the room whose sole attention is on this interaction.
“When were you thinking?”
His smile comes alive now that I haven’t rejected him. “Whenever. What day suits you?”
“How about Saturday?”
He licks his lips. “Perfect. I’ll pick you up?”
“Sure.” I wave him goodbye and turn back around.
“I didn’t say you could have a personal conversation during working hours,” Huxley says.
I don’t look at him. “You should have turned him away then.”
His hot gaze doesn’t move from me. Not even when his phone starts to ring. “You’re working on Saturday.”
The screen hides my smile. “Till what time?”
“I don’t know yet.”
I push my chair out so I can see him. “What does that mean? You can’t expect me to work twenty-four hours.”
He casually shrugs. “I don’t know how long the job will take.”
“Well, I’m leaving at eight whether or not you’re done.”
His hands flex as jealousy consumes him. “You work for me.Itell you when you’re done.”
