“I cleared it on Friday. Ford called and mentioned the meeting, so I went ahead and rearranged things. I also dug out a few files I thought we may need based on my conversation with your brother.”
Graham’s brows shoot to the ceiling. “Very good.” He stands and disappears into his office. When he returns, he motions for me to follow. “This should take most of the morning. Take notes, ask questions if you don’t understand something, and try to breathe.” He leans in and smiles. “Don’t forget to breathe.”
“Will do. And Graham?” I ask when his hand hits the door.
“Yeah?”
“I want you to know something.”
“What’s that?”
“You look incredible today.”
The corner of his lip tugs up. “Thank you. So do you.”
“I’m not sure how I’m going to handle this visual and then seeing you in action. I might have to, you know . . .” I wink.
His eyes blaze, his hand falling off the door. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“No, probably not,” I shrug playfully.
“Don’t you even think about it.”
“Well, it wouldn’t technically be in your office, so it wouldn’t be against the rules.”
“The rules are now amended to include all Landry property,” he declares.
I sigh, looking at him through my lashes.
“Mallory, for the love of God, stop fucking with me. I need to concentrate.” The door flies open and we start down the hall. Employees step to the side as we make our way down, mutterings of “Good morning, Mr. Landry” with a few swoons from women clasping notebooks to their chest can be heard as we pass by.
Once we reach the end of the hallway, he turns to me. “Behave.”
Before I can answer, the door is open and inside we go.
Mallory
A LONG, MARBLE TABLE THE color of sand extends the length of the conference room. Ford and his father sit across from each other, Graham and I sit at either end.
The security meeting has lasted three hours, most of which I’ve sat and watched Graham in action. His brain works so fast, his intelligence so apparent, that I’m awestruck. I’ve worked with bright men before, but nothing like this. He’s on another level with facts, figures, insight that blows my mind. How does one man, at his age, no less, have so much knowledge?
Everything Ford or Mr. Landry ask, Graham has the answer. He seems to have thought and researched this from every possible angle and I’m beyond impressed.
And beyond turned on.
“All we need to close up this piece are the numbers for the insurance. Do you have them?” Mr. Landry asks, turning to Graham. He starts to flip through his files, his forehead crinkled perfectly.
He doesn’t have them. I do. In our little banter this morning, he left them on my desk.
“You had me bring them, Graham,” I say, sliding the file to his father. “Remember?”
A look of relief washes over his face. “Thank you, Mallory.”
“You’re welcome. Also,” I say, pulling out a notepad, “I found this in Linda’s drawer. It looks like there were notes taken by someone at some point in a meeting about training courses and different licenses.”
“We’ve been looking for that!” Ford exclaims as I scoot the legal pad down the table to him. “We’ve looked everywhere. With Graham’s assistant merry-go-round, we didn’t know where these went.”
“They were in a file buried in the back of my desk,” I explain. “There’s no notation on them at all to indicate what they’re for. I just knew because I’ve been working with you all on this.”
Mr. Landry peers at me much the same way Graham does. “How long have you worked here?”
“Not long,” I reply, looking at Graham. He’s almost beaming at me. “A couple of weeks.”
“I like you,” he says, almost like an afterthought as he flips through the file. “These insurance numbers look great. Let’s get some lunch and then get started on location. I really like that one downtown, but I know Ford prefers the one on Woodrose Avenue.”
They all start to stand and I clear my throat. “I hope it’s not out of line, but I ordered you all lunch. It should be here in about twenty minutes.”
“You did?” Graham asks.
“You told me this would last through the morning,” I shrug. “Not taking a lunch break will expedite this. That’s what you want, right, Ford?”
“Yeah,” he says, grinning at me. “Thanks, Mallory.”
“No problem.”
“Graham, if you ever want to get rid of Mallory, I’ll take her.”
Graham flashes his brother a look that only makes him laugh.
“I was kidding,” Ford says, “but not kidding. If this doesn’t work out,” he says, looking at me, “I have this company I’m starting . . .”
“She’s employed,” Graham says.
“Boys,” Mr. Landry interjects, silencing them both, “she’s sitting right here.” He looks at me and smiles. “And she’s not stupid. If you need a job, I’ll hire you.”
We all laugh before they return to their discussions about location and square footage, and I find myself spacing out while I watch my boss. His fingers twist a pen, flipping it back and forth, while volleying ideas with his family members. The way they defer to him, ask for his opinions, the way he’s ready with a plan for every possible path is such a turn-on.
I take my hands off the table and place them in my lap.
The movement gets Graham’s attention, but he doesn’t miss a beat. He continues his little speech on utility prices, his eyes trained on mine. I hold his gaze, widening my eyes, teasing him. I could never go through with this here, not in front of his brother and father. But he doesn’t know that. And this is fun.
Graham’s head cocks to the side in a silent warning, and I can’t help but smirk. I wiggle my eyebrows and watch his lips press together. He clears his throat, shifting in his seat.
I form an “o” with my lips and wink at Graham. That does it. In one swift movement, he stands. His brother and father lean back, puzzled.
“Is everything okay?” Mr. Landry asks. “Graham?”
“I need to get something from my office. Excuse me,” he gruffs, storming out the door.
I bolt upright, not sure what to make of that. When they look at me, I shrug. “He didn’t have a lot of coffee this morning,” I offer weakly.
Ford chuckles. “He seemed a little preoccupied when I got here today. I think he was focused, and I know when I’m thinking about work like that,” he grins cheekily, “coffee gets easily overlooked.”
“Graham does have a drive that’s hard to find,” Mr. Landry offers.
Ford tries to stifle a laugh. “Would you agree, Mallory?”
“Most definitely,” I giggle.
“He’s acting odd today,” Mr. Landry comments to Ford. “Is he acting all right with you?”
“He’s fine, Dad. Don’t worry about him.”
“I don’t, usually,” Mr. Landry says, shaking his head. “He has his shit together more than any of you, which concerns me today when I see him like this. I—”
He’s interrupted by a buzzing sound loud in the air. “Mallory, would you see me in my office, please?” Graham’s voice is clear and not without a brusqueness that’s impossible to miss.