Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 105231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Just open the message.
“Ma’am? Ma’am? Do you have an appointment?” A stern-looking security guard stepped in front of her and she stared up at him in surprise.
He was eyeing her with some confusion mixed with disapproval. She guessed that they didn’t get many people in here who wore an orange fluffy scarf with a pink velvet ankle-length jacket. And then there was her headband. She hadn’t had the energy to do her hair this morning so she’d just brushed it and used a pink headband to keep it off her face. It also helped hide the lump on her forehead.
“Oh. Yes. I’ve got an appointment with Oliver Claire. My name is Caren Stanford. Sorry. I was distracted.”
He grunted. She bit her lip. She was guessing he wasn’t impressed with her excuse.
“Mr. Cain is ready for you. Here is a visitor badge. Take the elevator to the eighth floor.”
“Right. Thanks.” This was her second time visiting Oliver since she’d arrived in New York. And she wasn’t sure why he liked working in this building. It was so new and . . . and kind of soulless. There wasn’t a lot of sun out today but what little sun there was streamed in and reflected off the shiny tile floors. She could only imagine what it would be like on a full summer’s day. Right now, it was starting to give her a headache.
She headed upstairs in the elevator. When she exited there was a younger girl waiting for her. She wore a pair of wide-leg black pants with a white shirt. A black belt cinched in her tiny waist. Her hair was kind of wild and she barely had on any make-up. She was decidedly different from the assistants that Oliver usually hired. She stared hard at Caren which was a bit odd, but Caren shook it off.
“Wow, you’re gorgeous.”
The girl’s intense stare turned to one of surprise, her eyes widening. “S-sorry?”
“You’re gorgeous. Stunning. Surely someone has told you that before?”
“I . . . I . . . well, not really.” She went bright red.
How odd.
Caren thought she would have heard that every day.
“Isabel!” Oliver snapped as he walked out. “You were supposed to bring Caren straight in to me.”
“My fault,” Caren told him as Isabel flinched. “I was just telling Isabel that she’s stunning.”
Oliver paused and blinked, then turned to look at the girl. “Oh. Yes. Well.”
“Sorry, Uncle Oliver,” Isabel said quietly.
Uncle Oliver?
“No, no. I’m sorry.” He waved his hand with a tired smile. “No need for me to snap like that. Come in, Caren. Isabel can you bring in coffee please?”
“Sure, I can do that.”
“Uncle Oliver?” she asked as she followed him to his office. She wasn’t sure why he’d sent poor Isabel to wait for her when she knew the way from the elevator to his office.
“Ah, yeah, my brother’s kid.”
“I didn’t know you even had a brother.”
“He died a long time ago. Isabel lived with my mother since her mother ran off when Isabel was a baby. She graduated high school at the end of last year but doesn’t know what she wants to do. And she needed a job.”
That was sweet that he’d hired his niece. And not what she usually expected from Oliver. He tended to be cut-throat when it came to business.
“Right, please sit.” Oliver directed her to a comfortable-looking sofa and sat across from her in a chair.
Caren slid off her coat and then sat.
Oliver eyed her clothing but knew better than to say anything. He knew that she toned everything down while on assignment. And he had no say in anything she wore.
“Are you all set for the exhibition?” he asked without preamble. That was Oliver. He didn’t really care for pleasantries. Or for small talk.
“I think so. I’m meeting again with Gemma, who is managing it all, at the start of next week to check everything is all good.”
“Good, good. All of the invitations were snapped up. This is going to be a big night. Do you, uh, have your hair and make-up booked in? A dress?” He eyed her outfit again.
She had to bite back a smile as Isabel walked in. “Don’t worry. I found this gorgeous velvet and lace dress. It looks like something from the eighteen-hundreds except it’s a bright neon orange.”
“You’re . . . you’re joking,” he spluttered out.
“Of course she is, Uncle Oliver,” Isabel told him as she placed a plate of cookies on the coffee table.
Yum. Snickerdoodles. She loved snickerdoodles.
“You are?” he asked Caren.
“Sure am. Don’t worry, I’ll dress the way everyone else is. Boring.”
Isabel let out a small giggle and Oliver sighed. “Great. That’s good. Ahh, you can leave now.”
“Thanks, Isabel,” Caren said with a smile.
“Yes, yes, thanks.” He leaned forward once they were alone. “There’s some stuff brewing in the Middle East. I’ve got a number of people contacting me, asking if you’re going out there.”