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“Sure,” she said, hesitating. “What can I do for you?”
“Your husband…”
“Franklin,” she said, a small, wistful look on her face. Franklin had passed away when I was young. Back then, she had worked at my father’s house.
“Franklin,” I said. “How did you two meet?”
She smiled.
“At work,” she said. “He was a butler-in-training. I had just started with the company I used to work for. We ended up working for the same family for a year before they tragically died. Then, your father hired me and the company went bankrupt.”
“I didn’t know that,” I said. “Where did Franklin end up?”
“Home,” she said, proudly. “The only buttling he did after your father hired me was for himself. Became an artist. I have a houseful of his paintings at home.”
“Really now,” I said. “Would you ever be interested in selling any of them?”
“Perhaps,” she said. “One or two.”
I grinned.
“My friend Leo has been looking for some paintings to go in the lobbies of his hotels. If he doesn’t buy any, I will. But you’ll be getting a call in the next day or two.”
She beamed. “Thank you, Hunter.”
She was the only person on the staff who ever used my first name. I never complained either. In a way, she was the mother figure I always wished I’d had.
As she scuttled away, I grabbed my things and headed to the office.
Julia was already in her small office by the time I got there, and I went directly to work. Knowing Sean, once he arrived, I wasn’t likely to get much done.
For the most part, Julia kept to her office, and when she did come out for an extended period to bring me notes and memos, it was right at noon. Sean walked in the door just as she was walking away.
“Sean, hey,” I said, hanging up a call that I had been waiting on hold for far more than the estimated ten minutes. “Come on in, man.”
Sean had ceased looking at me and was instead watching Julia disappear back into her office. When the door shut, he jerked his thumb toward her and raised his eyebrows. I nodded.
“Ahh,” he said. “So, let me guess, you’ve already banged her, right?”
“Jesus, Sean,” I said, shaking my head.
He shrugged, grinning. “I got my answer,” he said. “I mean, you said she was incredible-looking, but I didn’t think she looked likethat. Good job, boss.”
“Not a good job,” I said. “In fact, my job is the very thing I am worried about now.”
“Oh, for sure,” he said. “That is potentially fatal for your career. But you know that, don’t you?”
“I do,” I said.
“And?”
I had a whole spiel in my head, ready to go. A list of reasons why I knew I needed to break it off, and how I was a professional just looking for the best opportunity to quash it all. Something that would be the right words to say to someone who cared about you not blowing everything you’d worked for.
But then, it hit me.
As I looked over at her office and watched her brush her hair back over her ear as she wrote something down in a notepad, I realized the truth.
I didn’t care.
