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“Silas, we’re old friends—”
A knock interrupts him. I call out, and Paul pokes his head in. “Apologies, sir. Could I have a word with you?” He bows his head, glancing to Liam.
Sighing, I get up and follow my assistant out the door.
He leads me to a large walk-in closet, where two garment bags are hung up. “I was wondering which suit you’d like to wear tonight. This one has the Argylian flag colors on the lining and tie, which would send a positive message in photos.”
“You brought me out here to ask me which suit I want to wear?” I frown. “Whichever one is fine, Paul. I don’t care.” I turn to leave, but Paul makes a noise.
“Just to confirm, sir, you’re okay with this tie to go with the suit? And your favorite shirt hasn’t come back from the cleaners, so we’ll have to go with one of the others.” He shifts his weight from foot to foot, his eyes darting to the door to my rooms.
I follow his gaze, then glance back at him, catching him avert his eyes to the floor. “Is something wrong, Paul?”
“No, nothing at all.” He pushes the words out in one breath, and I’m almost completely sure he’s lying. But what would my assistant have to lie about? He’s been by my side for years. Always been the one to help me out of a sticky spot if reporters showed up where they weren’t supposed to. I trust him.
Walking past me, he makes his way to the door. “I’ll get this for you.”
“It’s fine, Paul. I can get my own door.” I reach for the doorknob just as Paul raps his knuckles on the wood, then pushes the door open more slowly than he normally would.
Something’s wrong. He’s acting weird. He’d never usually ask me what clothes I want to wear—he knows I don’t care, and the stylists have a much better idea of what kind of clothing is appropriate for each event. That particular quagmire is not one I’m interested in walking through.
Paul doesn’t usually have much to say about it.
When I step inside my room, my eyes immediately go to Liam. He’s standing by the window, hands clasped behind his back, looking vaguely bored.
He turns to meet my gaze and lets out a long sigh. “You’re no fun anymore, Silas. I’ll leave you to it.” He closes the distance between us, clapping a hand on my shoulder. Leaning toward me, his lips nearly brush my ear. “Tell Jazz I said hello.”
Before I can whirl on him, he’s out the door and Paul is closing it behind him. Frowning, I stare after him as a strange, clammy feeling come over me. Sweat dampens my underarms as I tug the collar of my shirt. I glance at the door, mind whirling.
What the hell just happened?
I go to stand by the window where Liam was, studying the floor, the walls, the view. What was he looking at? Unless he was trying to look casual?
A sound draws my eye to the right. Or rather, the lack of sound after my laptop fan turns off. Rotating my head toward the sudden silence, I notice my desk is a mere two steps away. My laptop is quiet now, but it wasn’t a moment ago.
Heart thumping, I rush to my desk and put my hand over the laptop. Warm.
Liam wasn’t here to say hello. He was here for information.
23
Jazz
The past three days, I’ve made a point to meet Rhea every evening for dinner. It’s been nice to reconnect with her, and every evening I want to tell her about Silas. I think tonight might be the night. I meet Rhea at a small Italian restaurant on the opposite side of town. She’s already sitting down at a small table for two, munching on breadsticks. Waving a hand, her face splits into a smile. “Jazzypants!”
Grinning, I weave my way through the tables and sit across from her, hooking my purse over the back of my chair. “You changed your hair.”
“Balayage. You like it?” She flicks her hair in front of her shoulder to show me.
“Love.”
She nods to my chest. “New shirt? The girls look good.”
“I think I’m about to get my period because I’m spilling out of my bra. Now I know how you feel with those knockers of yours.”
Rhea laughs, glancing at her own breasts. “It’s a blessing and a curse.”
My heart eases as my friend and I fall into our old conversations. These past three days have been good for my soul. After not really talking or hanging out much for six weeks, I realize how much I missed our dinners and talks.
