5. Isabelle

Chapter 5

Isabelle

I get to work early on Friday, even though my meeting with Mr. Emerson isn't until mid-morning.

I've done all the reading he assigned me. I'm now familiar with his business holdings, his projections for the next fiscal year, his potential acquisitions, and his research priorities.

And I'm wearing the kilt again.

I tried to put on the now-clean pencil skirt this morning. I also tried a nice pair of pants I bought with the advance on my first paycheck.

Neither of them felt right.

I skip into the office, expecting to have the space to myself as I have the last few days.

But I'm not alone. The door to Mr. Emerson's office is open, and he's at his desk—and a beautiful woman with glossy dark hair is standing beside him, leaning over his shoulder.

My breath catches painfully in my chest, and I skid to a stop.

His gaze lifts, locking onto mine, and time stops.

"Isabelle," he says quietly.

I try to smile. Try, fail.

Somehow, I find my legs again and I woodenly put myself behind my own desk, which is thankfully out of sight of his.

I'm still on the login screen of my computer when they come out of his office and he's saying goodbye to her.

I can barely hear them over the roar in my ears.

Login: ibright

Password:

"Isabelle?"

I jerk my head up and find Mr. Emerson standing beside my desk, his brows furrowed and his hands shoved in his pockets. His shoulders strain the limits of his suit jacket.

"Yes, sir," I say breathlessly, scrambling to my feet. "What do you need?"

"It's good to see you again." He searches my face. "How have you been?"

"Good. Great. Missed you." I clap my hand over my mouth.

Surprise ripples across his stern features. "I missed you, too, little one."

Hot relief pulses through me. I thought that ache had been one sided, but maybe not completely. I'll take it. It feels good to know that he missed me, too, however he means it.

Don't read too much into it, Izzy.

I won't. I probably won't. I'll try not to, but it'll be hard.

"I didn't see a meeting on your schedule this morning," I say in a rush. "Other than mine, later."

"That wasn't a meeting." His frown deepens. "That was my sister."

"Your sister?" The relief blooms into something truly intense now. "That's great ."

He laughs out loud. "Is it? She's generally a pain in my ass."

"Oh." I press my lips together, desperate to keep the rest of that thought to myself, because I can't hate that the beautiful lady is a pain in his ass. I can't hate that at all. His sister. Not someone whose eyes I need to claw out.

He gives me a funny look. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing about work," I manage to say. Which is the truth.

He rocks back on his heels. "All right. Do you need some time, or can we meet now?"

"Now is great! Now is perfect. Now is exactly when I want to meet." I grab my notes from the desk. "Let's go, Mr. Emerson."

He looks deeply amused as I point him to his own office. He holds the door for me, then closes it as soon as I sweep past him.

The click makes all the little hairs on my neck stand up.

"So," he says from behind me. "You've been busy."

"I've tried to fully prepare for this." My voice sounds too breathy. I pause, take a sharp inhale, followed by a slow exhale, and try again. "Your corporate vision is fascinating, Mr. Emerson, and it was easy to do a deep dive into everything that you sent, and more."

That sounds better. More professional.

He brushes past me, murmuring, "Keep going. You're impressing me."

I feel myself glowing in his praise. "I know there is still a lot for me to learn, but I am confident I can prepare research reports to meet your needs now. To that end, I've prepared two examples for you to look at." I set those on his desk, then sink into the visitor's chair.

He looks at them briefly, but then sets them aside before sitting in his own chair. "That will be my reading on the plane. I'm sure it will be excellent."

"The plane?"

"I travel a lot." He clears his throat. "In fact, we should set your research priorities for the next three months as I will, uh, be mostly out of the office."

"Three months?" I can't keep the shock out of my voice.

He glances away, his cheeks darkening. "It's unavoidable, I'm afraid."

"Why?"

He doesn't meet my gaze. "Continue with your presentation."

I glance down at my notes, but the words swim in front of my eyes. What happened to him missing me, too?

He must not have meant it the same way.

I thought three days apart was agony. How will I survive three months?