After finishing a quick lunch at my desk, I was struggling with a fuzzy brain and a whole lot of work to wade through. Sighing and complaining under my breath, I had my arms full of reports and was on my way to the copy machine when, in a rush, I almost collided with two men approaching from the opposite direction. Just my luck, it happened to be my boss and his boss. Half the files slipped out of my hold, and I fought to recover them before they went spilling all over the floor.
“Whoa—need a hand?” Adam said, reaching out to steady the top of the files. Jordan made no such move to help me. My gaze briefly touched his before jerking away. I felt a punch of something in my chest, a blow, like I’d been hit.
“Sorry, guys. I was in a bit of a hurry I, um, seem to be overloaded today.”
Jordan raised a brow but said nothing.
Adam threw him a glance. “Cracking the whip again?”
“Oh, it’s just me,” I intervened before Jordan could reply. “Moving kind of slow today. Very little sleep last night.” Because of your damn addictive game, I almost added.
I had a level five character in Dragon Epoch who was now this close to level six. So close I could smell it. One, maybe two more quests and he’d be at his next level. Strangely enough, as I thought about it, I was more and more excited to get back into the game. No wonder players often referred to the game as Dragon Addiction.
“Sorry you’re so tired,” Adam said with a small smile. “Maybe you could call on your woodland creatures for help.”
I frowned as I got a better grip on my folders, not missing when Jordan and Adam exchanged a look before I turned to leave. They seemed to be sharing some private joke at my expense. My cheeks flamed and I swallowed the irritation, pushing past them to the copy room. Jordan had not addressed or even looked at me directly.
He had barely spoken to me all day, telling me tersely to get my task list from Susan. He was too busy, apparently.
When I got back to my desk, Susan hung up her phone and pulled her chair over to my desk to sit beside me.
“You look as bad as I feel today,” she said. Today, oversized golden autumn leaves bobbed from her earlobes with every movement of her head.
“Given that you are pregnant and I’m not, that says a lot. I’m just tired.”
“I like your hair like that…all braided up. And that dress…you look like an innocent forest maiden.”
I frowned. “What do you need me to do?”
A weak smile touched her lips. “I’m being rather transparent, I guess. I have a huge favor to ask you.”
I braced myself, envisioning some monstrous task I had no desire whatsoever to do. Something that might prevent me from working on my own project.
“Uh, well. Have you ever been to Vancouver?”
“In Canada?” My stomach dropped and my eyes flew to the closed door of Jordan’s office. He had that TED talk in two weeks. TED stood for Technology, Entertainment and Design. It was a prestigious global conference that served as a gathering of great minds. That Jordan had been invited to present at TED, a CFO of his young age, was a feather in his cap and also gave the company big bragging rights.
The main TED conference took place in Vancouver, British Columbia. Sudden realization dawned. Go to Vancouver with Jordan the way things were between us now? Uh, no. No way. I was supposed to keep my distance. I shook my head.
“Please, April. You’re my only hope.”
“Uh, why?”
Susan rubbed her stomach, though she was hardly showing. “I had a miscarriage last year. We’ve been trying for about ten months now, and though the doctor says there’s no reason to believe I’m at risk again…I just can’t stand the thought of getting on an airplane, traveling long hours, working with jet lag—”
“It’s the same time zone as us.”
Susan pleaded with her eyes.
I sighed. “What would I have to do?”
“You’re there as his assistant. Run his schedule. Facilitate his meetings, be the go-between for him and the conference coordinators. Aid him with whatever he needs.”
I looked away, a blush staining my cheeks, unwilling to go there in my mind. But apparently, I already had, given that my entire body was heating at the thought of assisting with all of his needs—and vice-versa.
“What do you say?”
I shook my head. “I highly doubt he’d go for it, Susan. I’m just an intern, and he thinks I’m a fuck-up.”
She looked at me like I’d told her that clouds are made out of marshmallows and the moon of green cheese. “In what universe has he ever said that? I only hear good stuff from him about you. He is typically skimpy on praise, mind you, so I can see why you’d think he hasn’t noticed. But he has.”