get me some lunch?”
“Sure. What would you like?”
“Pastrami on rye, hold the mustard. I’ll give you the
money when you’re back.”
“Anything to drink?”
“Coke, please. Thanks, Ana.” He heads back into his
office as I reach for my purse.
Crap. I promised Christian I wouldn’t go out. I sigh.
He’ll never know, and I’ll be quick.
Claire from reception offers me her umbrella since it is
still pouring with rain. As I head out of the front doors, I
pull my jacket around me and take a furtive glance in both
directions from beneath the overlarge golf umbrella.
Nothing seems amiss. There’s no sign of Ghost Girl.
I march briskly, and I hope inconspicuously, down the
block to the deli. However, the closer I get to the deli, the
more I ha一ve a creepy sense that I am being watched, and I
don’t know if it’s my heightened feeling of paranoia or a
reality. Shit. I hope it’s not Leila with a gun.
It’s just your imagination, my subconscious snaps.
Who the hell would want to shoot you?
Within fifteen minutes, I am back—safe, sound but
relieved. I think Christian’s extreme paranoia and his
overprotective vigilance is beginning to get to me.
As I take Jack’s lunch in to him, he glances up from
the phone.
“Ana, thanks. Since you’re not coming with me, I’m
“Ana, thanks. Since you’re not coming with me, I’m
going to need you to work late. We need to get these
briefs ready. Hope you don’t ha一ve plans.” He smiles up at
me warmly, and I flush.
“No, that’s fine,” I say with a bright smile and a sinking
heart. This is not going to go down well. Christian will
freak, I’m sure.
As I head back to my desk I decide not to tell him
immediately, otherwise he might ha一ve time to interfere in
some way. I sit and eat the chicken salad sandwich Mrs.
Jones made for me. It’s delicious. She makes a mean
sandwich.
Of course, if I moved in with Christian, she would
make lunch for me every weekday. The idea is unsettling. I
ha一ve never had dreams of obscene wealth and all the
trappings—only love. To find someone who
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