Rex EVIE HAD BEEN unusually quiet all week long. For once, she wasn’t popping into my office offering me coffee or doughnuts or random musings on files she found on the Q drive that could stand to be reorganized. Did I care if the Q drive needed to be reorganized? No. Did she need my permission to reorganize files? No. Half the time, I was sure she came up with things like that to have an excuse to talk to me, or to talk to anyone. Or maybe she needed to es cape Lochlan. I might look for pointless reasons to approach my boss if I had to sit near Lochlan, too. I pondered m oving her desk elsewhere. But I’d gotten used to her popping into my office. While I was trying to focus on work, I wondered why she was acting more reserved. I didn’t want to ask, not here at work. I’d set the boundary for our workplace. I would ke ep it.
I needed her to return to form by that evening for the fundraiser at Hewitt - Klein Gallery, one of Seattle’s premier glass art galleries and one of my favorites. The fundraiser was for a local children’s hospital, so it was always wellattended. My parents w ould likely be there. Anya would definitely be there. I needed my shield in full force. I needed her charming and talkative and smiley. Not quiet and ke eping her nose to the ground. Yet a CEO cannot say such things to his assistant on the way out after work. Instead, as I left for the day, I glanced at her, working steadily at her desk. She hadn’t spoken to me for the better half of the day, but I’d reminded her we had a function to a ttend that night via text. I’d nodded at her, and she had offered me a weak smile in return. This would not do. I was not a nervous person, but Evie’s change in behavior made me nervous. Was she reconsidering our agreement? The idea of her backing out filled me with a strange dread. If she backed out, my parents would be there, ready to pounce. And Anya would be rig ht behind them. My control of the situation would quickly erode and my only choices would be to fully comply or rebel and risk losing the life I knew. More than that, I realized I didn’t want to go to this fundraiser without her. I’d always hated functions of all sorts, but with her by my side, I didn’t hate them. Not as much. Her cheery and chatty nature cast a different light on family dinners and func tions and even work. For the hour between when I got home and when it was time to pick up Evie, I tried my best not to think much about it. Perhaps I’d stop along the way to pick something up for her. Maybe that would help perk her up for the evening. After all, she was a youn g, beautiful woman and, instead of going out with friends or a man she actually had feelings for on this Friday night, she was stuck with me. I changed out of my work clothes and into a button - up shirt more suitable for an evening on the town. I almost put on a tie, but decided against it. This was an art gallery. I could stand to leave the tie at home. Adaline was waiting for me in front of my building when I st epped out, perfectly on time, as always. “Good evening,” she said. “To Hewitt - Klein, I assume?” “First, we’ll need to pick up Evie. Do you need her address again?” “No, sir, I remember it.”
“Also, please stop by the nearest florist on the way. I’m not picky about which one.” I thought I caught her smiling in the rearview mirror and gave her some lowered eyebrows in response. I should have known she’d read too much into the request to stop by a florist. It was a date, as far as she was concerned. I didn’t usually — ever — get flowe rs for dates, but flowers weren’t a big deal. I should have driven myself that night. When we arrived at Evie’s house, she was already outside on her porch. The sunset light fell directly on the front of her house, lighting her up like she was some kind of beacon — a strange effect. She looked the part in her outfit for the evening — a black, s leeveless dress with a flowy skirt that reached to her knees. The neckline plunged, revealing more of her flawless skin than I had seen before... and more of her cleavage. She climbed into the car, and my eyes automatically went there because how could they not? “You look lovely,” I said, and then I caught another smile from Adeline in the rearview mirror. I’d have to have a talk with her later. Her smirk did not help the situation. The entire fundraiser would likely be looking down Evie’s dress all evening. It wasn’t even that low of a neckline. It was how she wore the dress. It was the shape of her. I’ve seen a lot of women and plenty of dresses, but occasionally the woman and the o utfit combine so perfectly that it’s impossible to look away. That’s what had happened with Evie and that dress. “Thank you,” Evie said, giving me a smile. I couldn’t help but notice the smile didn’t seem as bright as usual. I wanted to ask what was wrong, but then decided I should not ask about her personal life, unless it impacted the believability of our evening or future functions. So instead I whipped out the bouquet I had picked out for her — a mix of lilies, roses, and other flowers in pinks, oranges, and blues. “Oh,” she said. “What is this for?” “To thank you,” I said, not wanting to go into detail about what I thanked her for with Adaline there and obviously invested in eavesdropping tonight. “I love them,” she said, taking a de ep sniff. “I don’t know where to put them.” “I’m sure Adaline will be happy to guard them for you until we’re done tonight.” “I really do love them. I can’t wait to set them on my table at home,” she said. Then, after a pause, she asked, “So, where is this gallery?” “Downtown,” I said. “Close to the art museum.”
“Oh, I have always wanted to go there.” “It’s a beautiful space. Hewitt and Klein were two s eparate galleries, next door to each other. They merged a few years ago and took out the wall between them. The result was two distinctly different galleries attached to each other.” “That sounds nice.” Our conversation fell flat; awkward space bounced around between us. Now, there wasn’t time to ask her what was wrong as we approached the gallery, but we couldn’t be this way tonight. Our ruse would be too obvious. I put all my faith in the idea that the festive atmosphere of the venue would bring her back to herself, but now I doubted if it would. Before we got there, I needed to pr ep her for the likelihood Anya would be at tonight’s function. As much as I trusted Adaline, I did not want to place the burden of our secret on her. She worked for my entire family. “Adaline, can you drop us off at the art museum?” I asked. She nodded. No questions asked, but Evie cast a questioning glance at me. When we st epped out of the car and onto the sidewalks of downtown Seattle, a warm evening breeze fluttered her hair on her shoulders. I noticed the cut of her dress again. I noticed her cleavage, how her breasts swelled just slightly when she inhaled. I lectured myself thoroughly. I’d thought about offering her my arm, to look more convincing as we walked into the gallery, but decided against it. If my attention was already wandering, touching her would do no good. The last thing I needed was to walk in with a tent in my pants. I cleared my throat and thought about r epulsive things. “It’s about two blocks away. I have to fill you in on some things before we start our evening. I thought we might do that as we walked.” “Oh? What is it you need to tell me?” she asked. “Anya will probably be here tonight,” I said, not knowing how to start or how much to say. I went for less is more, because less is more is my general philosophy on Anya Albrecht. “Anya, the woman your parents are pushing you toward?” I noted a chill in her voice. That was interesting. “Yes. She’s the daughter of my father’s best friend. This is her favorite gallery, and the fundraiser is for her favorite cause.” “But that’s why you have me here, right? She won’t be a problem.” “That’s the idea, but Anya is persistent and headstrong.”
“What does that mean?” She looked up at me and the evening light caught in her eyes, highlighting them. “It means she might try to hang around me, regardless of your presence. I just wanted you to know that we might run into some challenges.” “What should I do?” she asked. I wanted to tell her all of my history with Anya, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I could not wrap my executive assistant into my drama, and anything to do with Anya was very much drama. “You should be yourself,” I said. “Be friendly, be chatty, be charming. Don’t be afraid of her.” “Is she scary?” “No. Just persistent.” I wanted to say “Don’t leave my side,” but that sounded like too much. But I very much did not want Evie to leave my side for the entire evening.