CHAPTER 8
My prediction started coming true almost immediately. That Monday when I returned to work, Caine was back to his usual charming, clipped, and cool self. It was like Saturday had never happened. I had to admit it hurt.
And I really didn’t want to feel that way.
He made it easier to turn the hurt into irritation when he complained that his latte was a soy latte (it definitely was not) and told me that I needed to stop stapling paperwork together and learn how to use a paper clip.
I’d learn how to use a paper clip all right, but only after I used the staple one last time to shut him up permanently. Yeah, I said it!
“Said what?” Caine snapped.
That was when I realized I’d let the latter half of the conversation with myself slip out of my mouth. “Uh …” I stared down at him, trying to think fast. “That you’re so right.” I reached out and grabbed the paperwork from him. “I’ll just go remove the staples for you.”
I thought that was a pretty crappy start to the day. However, it wasn’t until lunchtime when things really started to go bad.
I was in the middle of typing up my squiggly notes from Caine’s meetings that morning when I heard Henry call out my name. He was striding down the hall toward me and when he came to a stop, he perched himself on the edge of my desk and gave me a soft smile. “Good afternoon, beautiful.”
Over the last few weeks I’d come to like Henry. He was the opposite of Caine. He was all friendly and flirtatious and laid-back. Henry worked for his father’s offshore bank, traveled a lot, and overall seemed to enjoy life way more than Caine did. He oozed charm and contentment, and I had to admit he did a lot to soothe my Caine-related wounded pride and self-esteem.
I relaxed back in my chair and smiled up at him, pleased to see him. “Good afternoon, handsome. How was your weekend?”
“Not as interesting as yours. I heard you dined with the queen.”
I laughed. “Effie? Yeah, she’s awesome.”
Henry threw his head back in laughter. “Effie? Mrs. Flanagan lets you call her by her first name. I’m sure Caine was delighted by that.”
I rolled my eyes. “What’s the big deal?”
“Believe it or not, Mrs. Flanagan is a hard nut to crack. She and I are not on a first-name basis and she’s spent the last five years denying me access to her baking.” He pouted comically. “I’m not a big fan of rejection.”
Amused, I tsked. “There must be a reason for her rejection.”
“She says I’m a ne’er-do-well, and until I settle down and act like a real man she wants nothing to do with me.”
“That’s not fair. I’d say Mr. Carraway is as much of a ne’er-do-well as you.”
“Thank you!” He nodded in agreement. “That is my argument exactly.” He leaned closer. “Maybe you could put in a good word since she’s taken such a shine to you.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Henry smiled and stood up. “Have I told you recently how happy I am that Caine hired you?”
“No, but it would be helpful if you tell him that.” I pressed the call button to Caine’s office.
“What?” he grumped on the loudspeaker, and Henry grinned at my answering grimace.
“Mr. Lexington is here to see you.”
“Send him in.”
I gestured to the door. “His Majesty awaits.”
He nodded. “Thank you, beautiful.”
The heavy door shut behind him and yet I heard Henry ask, “Someone in a mood?”
The speakerphone. Caine had left it on. I opened my mouth to tell him when he returned with “I don’t remember the last time I was in a good mood. Oh, right … the pre-Alexa days.”
My mouth shut, my skin hot and prickling with hurt, embarrassment, and annoyance. It was one thing for him to be grouchy and insulting to my face, but to talk about me with other people. Not nice.
“Oh, well, you must be an idiot, then,” Henry responded cheerily. “I find her delightful. In fact, I find Alexa so delightful I’m asking her to the Andersons’ Anniversary Ball on Saturday.”
I clamped a hand over my mouth to smother my gasp.
Caine had had me arrange appointments so he could get a new tux for the Andersons’ ball. Richard Anderson was a well-known media magnate. He and his wife, Cerise, were leaders of Boston society. Cerise was on every board of directors for charities and the arts in the city. It was their fortieth wedding anniversary on Saturday and they were throwing a party fit for royalty. Everyone who was anyone in Boston had been invited.
Henry wanted to take me as his date?
“Don’t even think about it,” Caine bit out.
“Is it because she’s a PA? Do you think she’s beneath us? Because I have to say, considering your humble background, that’s pretty shitty of you.”
It was pretty shitty of him.
You tell him, Henry!
“It’s not that.” Caine’s voice sounded tight, strained. “It’s because you can’t keep your dick in your pants. I won’t have you and that wandering dick anywhere near Lexie.”
I sank back in my chair.
Lexie?
Lexie?
What the hell?
I heard Henry harrumph. “You sound jealous …”
Was he jealous? My belly flipped at that thought.
“I’m not jealous.” Caine sounded like he was sneering at the thought. “Despite her smart mouth she’s the best PA I’ve ever had. I won’t have her chased off because you like her legs.”
Best PA?
Best PA?
“Not just her legs. I’m quite taken with the whole package. She’s gorgeous, she’s funny, she’s smart. I won’t be bored out of my mind all night. Anyway, you’re taking Marina Lansbury. I’m not going as some juvenile third wheel.”
Marina Lansbury?
My belly flipped again, this time the sensation unpleasant.
“Henry, you’re a Lexington. You can ask any woman in Boston to be your date and she’ll say yes. You’re not asking Lexie on an evening out with us. It’s crossing the line.”
Like, say … thinking of me as “Lexie” behind my back? What was that all about?
“Oh, get the stick out of your ass, Caine.”
I was really starting to like Henry more and more.
“Shit, Henry, surely you can do better than Lexie.”