Lawson is looking at , waiting for my answer. Internally, I am scrambling. My instinct is to stay as far away from this family scandal as possible, because it doesn’t involve . Not only that, but sothing about it doesn’t exactly add up.
But I need this job. I need to prove myself so that I can move beyond just being the intern errand girl whose na Laurel can’t even rember and actually being taken seriously here. I don’t intend to be doing these nial tasks for the rest of my life, and if sothing of this much importance to Lawson is what I have to do to prove that I am capable of much more than the tasks given to thus far, then I should jump on it.
Lawson is telling all of this confidentially. He already trusts enough to confide in . He isn’t asking Laurel. He isn’t asking Cricket. He isn’t asking anyone else in this company. He’s asking .
Not to ntion the fact that he isn’t even technically asking at this point, because I already said ’of course’ to doing him a favor before I knew the details. Not smart... ntal note to self: do not commit to things without getting all of the information first.
"You can trust ," I smile, nodding to emphasize the point whilst ignoring the alarm bells that are sounding in the back of my mind.
"Thank you." He sighs and then smiles with so much relief, that itself makes the answer worth it. "Now that that’s settled, I need to talk to you about sothing else."
Oh god, what now?
"With you acting in this role, which is exceedingly important," he pauses, blue eyes relaying the sincerity of this fact, "it would not be wise for us to be... social outside of work."
"Oh." My heart sinks.
"I was very much looking forward to Friday, but for now I can’t risk that Alexander will beco suspicious of you. If we are dating..."
"I understand," I say quickly, trying to mask the profound disappointnt that starts to pull at my chest. "This isn’t just so elaborate story you made in order to call off the date, is it?" I chuckle, and one of his eyebrows angles upward.
"God, no," he says. "I would just tell you that I’m no longer interested."
He adjusts his suit jacket, and there is such a waft of arrogance in that action alone that I feel my cheeks warm with embarrassnt for suggesting it. It was a joke, of course, but he chose not to respond to it that way.
"Right," I say, reclaiming my serious, professional voice—the one that doesn’t joke and doesn’t image other people joking. "So... what is it that you need to do exactly?"
"I am going to make you Alexander’s assistant." His attention turns to his computer, and he begins typing away... consud by so other pressing task now—business. This is all business.
"His... assistant?"
"Yes, you will have a desk outside of his office. It will take so ti for him to get acclimated to the company again, so there won’t be a whole lot for you to do right away. But eventually I will need you to be going through his emails, notes, downloads... keeping an eye on what clients he acquires and what alliances he makes."
God, I can already feel my anxiety rising. I’m imagining a scene out of one of the mission impossible franchises... the kind where you have to hurry and copy files while soone is rounding the corner ready to catch you at any mont. The kind where you could get blown up if you make a wrong move.
"None of that will be a problem, will it?" He glances up at . "You will be doing the company a huge favor."
"What happens if he catches ? Won’t I get fired? I an, he’s coming into the company with your sa level of authority, isn’t he?"
"I suppose if he catches you, you could get arrested," he chuckles, sohow finding his sense of humor when before it was nonexistent.
Right at that mont—when I feel all of the blood draining from my face at the thought of being arrested for a ’favor’ I am doing Lawson and the company—the office door opens behind . I hear the ’swoosh’ of it against the floor.
"Dex!" Lawson exclaims, standing with a huge grin and shocking almost out of my chair because of the state of panic I am already falling into.
Lawson walks past the desk to greet his brother, and all I can do is shift to watch him like a startled animal who realizes it has been caught in a trap with no way out. And then, as if I need another shock to my system, I see the notorious Dex Möbius for the first ti... in the flesh.
No. No way. It can’t be.
A new shot of adrenaline spikes all the way down to my toes, and I grip the armrests of the chair like a life line, because either I have completely and totally lost my mind—as in, it’s official—or Alexander Möbius is the exact sa man who has been haunting my dreams.
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