My Professor(31)

I’m needling him. I can’t help it. I want to know about their relationship. I want to know why he’s never spoken of her.

“You can do whatever the hell you’d like with her. Be my guest.”

I don’t appreciate his tone.

“You knew she worked in my field, didn’t you? Architectural restoration. She was a student at Dartmouth when I was there.”

I brace for him to ask questions, but that’s not the way this conversation is going.

“Small world, I guess.” He sounds utterly bored.

“What is it with you two?”

“It’s simple—I want nothing to do with her.”

I’m taken aback.

“She’s your sister.”

“Half-sister. I was six when her mother broke up my parents’ marriage, so forgive me if I’m not overly eager to spread my arms wide open for her.”

My fingers tighten on my phone.

“Is that all? Or do you feel like prying into any other personal matters at nine AM on a Tuesday? Maybe we can get into my mommy issues too while we’re at it?”

“I’m sensing you’re not in a good mood.”

This makes him chuckle. “The point is, I’ve never met the girl. I don’t know her, I don’t care to know her. Listen, I’ll add you to the table for Saturday. In the meantime, should I tell Miranda your interests lie elsewhere? You seem pretty interested in my sister all of a sudden…”

Ah, so this is his way of taking his anger out on me.

“Good talk, Emmett. I’ll see you this weekend.”

Then I hang up.

Immediately, my assistant, Candace, phones me from her desk.

“Sir, I didn’t want to interrupt, but your nine o’clock is here and he seems to be in a rush. Should I—”

I grind my molars. “It’s fine. Send him in.”

The day continues like that, one meeting after another, phone calls and emails. Word’s out, apparently, that I’m back in Boston for the time being, and everyone wants a piece of me.

I only want a piece of one person.

I work through lunch with Christopher and Lewis. Candace brings us food, but I don’t even have time to touch it until it’s long gone cold.

Around four, I have a moment to myself, and I whip open my office door, practically ready to pounce on Emelia, but I find her desk is empty. Her things are gone.

“Where are the new hires?” I ask Lewis.

His office is nearest to Emelia’s. He’s sitting behind his desk, reading something on his computer when I interrupt.

He looks up and frowns, no doubt trying to make sense of my odd curiosity and short temper. “They’re down with HR getting ID badges…I told them they could leave once they were done. Didn’t want to overload them on the first day.”

Fuck.

I mourn the fact that I don’t get the chance to speak with Emelia on Tuesday, but fate’s on my side on Wednesday morning when I walk into the Banks and Barclay building and find her stalled at the security desk.

“—probably why it’s not working. Could you just try to scan it one more time for me, please?” she asks gently.

The security guard swipes her access card again, and his screen lights up with a big red X.

I have to work to hide my Cheshire grin.

“Maddox, it’s fine. I’ll take her up.”

He nods in my direction before handing Emelia’s access card back to her. “Ma’am, sometime today, you should have HR take a look at your card. It could just be that you haven’t been properly added to the system, but they might need to issue you a new one altogether.”

Emelia nods. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

She smiles in thanks, and the security guard has the audacity to blush.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes as I continue past them toward the bank of elevators. My actions say, Keep up or stay stuck down here. I don’t care either way.

Today, she’s wearing heels, and I hear her footsteps start to echo behind me on the marble floor. She has to hurry to catch me after I press the up arrow outside the elevator. The doors in front of us slide open right away, and I step aside to allow her space to enter first.

She doesn’t say a word as she brushes past me and takes her spot in the corner, as far away from me as she can possibly manage. I follow after her, and then the doors sweep shut.

“The seventh floor, please.”

I clear my throat, pressing the illuminated seven just like I was planning to do anyway.

I turn to survey her and find that, for once, her eyes aren’t on the floor.

She’s looking at me, wearing an expression of determination.

“Mr. Barclay. I’m Emelia Mercier, a new hire at Banks and Barclay. I’ll be part of the team working on the Belle Haven Estate.”

She takes a half-step toward me and holds her hand out for me to shake, as if expecting me to go along with this ruse.

My eyes narrow at the corners. I let her hand hang there, suspended as the elevator ascends.

“Another bout of amnesia, then?”

Her lips part in shock. “What?”

“I remember who you are, Ms. Mercier. There’s no need to formally introduce yourself again.”

She drops her hand and looks away, redness creeping up from the silk bow tied delicately at the base of her neck.