Beauty and the Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #2)(14)

Gretchen remained seated, but her gaze was glued to the door, peeking at it over her computer screen.

Sure enough, the sinister figure of Eldon lurked in the doorway. “Ms. Petty.”

“Good afternoon,” Audrey said coolly. “Can I help you with something?”

Oh, no, Gretchen thought, unable to look away. Mr. Buchanan had complained about her snooping. He’d told that horrible butler that Gretchen had seen his junk, and now he wanted her gone. This was where her spying would be laid out and confessed, and she’d be embarrassed in front of her cool, competent sister and the unpleasant butler. She was going to be fired before she’d even begun. She just knew it.

“I’m here to show the other Ms. Petty the project she will be working on, if now is a good time.” Eldon’s lean face turned in her direction, waiting.

Not . . . fired?

Really? She sat for a minute, utterly surprised. Why had Mr. Buchanan not sent her away? She’d seen him in his birthday suit.

“Is now a good time?” Eldon repeated, his voice flat with dislike.

“A good time?” Was it ever. Anything to get away from writing. Gretchen snapped her laptop shut with an almost gleeful air. “Now is perfect. Audrey, can you keep an eye on Igor for me?”

“He’s a cat,” Audrey said with a hint of amusement, walking back to the bed and picking up the magazine. “Exactly how much watching does he need?”

“Just make sure he doesn’t eat a tassel or something,” Gretchen called out, heading out of the room and shutting the door behind her. She couldn’t help but smile at Eldon’s disapproving face. She’d thought for sure that he’d come here to send her away.

“Lead on, my friend,” Gretchen said cheerfully. “I can’t wait to see this project.”

The butler began to walk down the hall, glancing over his shoulder at Gretchen as if to reassure himself that she was following him. “Mr. Buchanan wanted me to set proper expectations for you in regards to this project.”

“Proper expectations? I think I hear a lecture incoming.” She barely resisted trailing her fingers along a lovely mahogany table. Pretty sure that wouldn’t meet the proper expectations.

“This will be a quite lengthy project,” Eldon droned in his dry voice. “It should take you at least a month to catalog and go through the letters.”

“I’m fine with that.”

“The letters are very old and should be handled with care.”

“Duh. I’ll be careful.”

He gave her a scathing look. “Further, they are not to be removed from the premises. They are also not to be photocopied or scanned in. Mr. Buchanan is very concerned about the privacy of the project and the family’s wishes.”

“Whatever you say,” Gretchen told him. “I’m just the hired help. You just point me at the letters and I’ll get to work.”

“Indeed.”

There was a wealth of unpleasantness in that one word, but Gretchen was determined not to let it bother her. “So the letters are from the Buchanan family’s archives? Is that correct?”

“I am not at liberty to discuss things,” Eldon said, his voice seeming to get even stiffer.

“Well, can I ask Mr. Buchanan about them? I—”

“Mr. Buchanan is busy. He is not going to be involved. Do not disturb him with your questions.”

“And that’s fine, but I just thought that since—”

“You are not to bother Mr. Buchanan!” He turned a baleful gaze upon her. “He is a very busy man and does not want to be disturbed. Your being on location does not mean he is at your disposal.”

Whoa, what had crawled up his ass? Had Buchanan said something to him? Gretchen raised her hands in a defensive posture. “I wasn’t suggesting that. I was just going to say—”

“If you are not interested in reviewing the project, Ms. Petty, I can let the publisher know that we are in need of another writer.”

“If you’d let me finish a sentence,” Gretchen snapped, “you would know that that is not what I’m saying at all. Just show me the damn letters.”

She half-expected him to snap back at her, but he only smiled.

“They are right this way,” Eldon said, gesturing. His voice was as cool as ice all over again, as if he didn’t have to try to be nice now that he’d gotten his way. “Please follow me.”

It was apparently time for a new plan. If she wanted to say hello—and apologize—to Mr. Buchanan, she’d have to see him when Eldon wasn’t around to glare at her. Maybe a late-night visit?

Nah, that’d probably just be weird. He’d think she was creeping on him.

They moved down a long hall decorated in seemingly old-fashioned gilt and blue furnishings. Gretchen made a mental note of this, because she’d be damned if she was going to ask Eldon to show her where the room was again. Too bad she hadn’t brought her phone, since a GPS would be needed for this enormous building. So she noted the surroundings. Blue sofa, old picture with ridiculously ornate frame, case full of Fabergé eggs along the hallway wall, more blue settees, a golden statue, and an old oil painting of the ugliest man she had ever seen (also dressed in blue), wearing a powdered wig.

Then, they turned into a sunlit hallway, and Eldon paused in front of a pair of wooden double doors.