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“Yes.”
But am I sure that’s the best decision I could possibly make in this situation?
No.
He presents a small, amused nod and gestures his hand in the direction of the main steps. “This way.”
Brynley extends her palm Holmes direction at the same time she grunts, “Cough it up, Frankensuck. I can carry my own shit.”
Dialing the extension for housekeeping is abruptly stopped to further observe the situation.
Holmes professionally relocates the black trash bag from his grip to hers and curiosity unforgivingly gets the better of me. “What the hell is in that?”
“Her belongings.”
Indignation darts violently through my veins causing me to tighten my grip on the receiver in my possession. “What?”
At that point, Brynley shoots me a look in the camera as if she can see me tensing, “Relax, Mega Billions. You don’t have anything to worry about. It’s mainly just clothes. I don’t even think I packed a brush.” She swings a playful glare to my best friend. “You’ve probably got one I can borrow. I mean everyone knows that whole ‘looks effortless’ shit requires at least three.”
He lightly chuckles swapping the previous ire for irritation.
Again.
Why does she like him so much?
Why does it feel like maybe she likes him too much?
And why the fuck do I hate it more than anything else I have in my entire goddamn life?
J.T. proceeds with a basic tour of the estate – only covering territory they directly pass – while I mute my cell to reach the department I need.
One ring is all that manages to go through before someone politely picking up, “Housekeeping.”
“Clark?” Confusion can’t be stifled. “I thought you were tending to the medical suite today.”
“I was; however, Hamilton insisted on an emergency lockdown procedure in which he will not allow anyone in or out until at least the morning. Contact from this point forward will be done remotely.” The large sigh that escapes him lands heavily on my shoulders. “I wanted to exchange Ms. Lauren’s tableside flowers…Brighter colors tend to…brighten her mood…” His longing only lingers for a mere moment longer. “Alas, the doctor’s orders will be followed. I have already alerted the other staff members.”
“I’ll…break the news to her daughter.”
“Miss Brynley has arrived?” Joy bursts through his tone. “Is she well? Which guesthouse is she occupying?”
I cut my gaze over to where her and J.T. have stopped to discuss an abstract painting that was my mother’s favorite. He fumbles and flounders about the details he can recall while she makes snarky jokes and comebacks that keep them both laughing.
Smiling.
Effortlessly engaged.
This is why he’s the face of our company.
And why she can never see mine.
“She will actually be staying in the main manor,” I inform, loathing how close their frames continuously gravitate to one another.
A small, all-knowing hum precedes his retort. “I see.”
“Could you please have Penny meet them in the first-floor guest wing to provide assistance?”
“Wouldn’t it be easier if you just asked her yourself?” Clark confusedly counters. “She’s in your office having tea with you, isn’t she?”
