Authors: Dara England
It was extra insurance, that was all, against Sir firing her on a sudden whim or any one of a number of other things that might happen. She could well have need of the extra income, however temporary it might be, and the small act of spying on her employer to receive it seemed easy enough. The only real difficulty would be in preventing Sir from realizing what she was up to.
All of this went on in her mind as she made a valiant effort at steadying her nerves and laying her fears to rest. She was only half successful however. Despite all her brave reassurances, one pesky image kept replaying itself in the back of her mind. Sir, kneeling before the dresser in his red bedroom, his sharp eyes riveted on the white envelope sticking out of the edge of the drawer.
She shivered. She was making too much of this. She needed to act before she could change her mind. She dug around in the drawer of her nightstand until she found a pad of paper and pen. With ruthless haste, born of the desire to have this thing done with, she scribbled out a brief report to the doctor, outlining everything that had happened between her and Sir since they had met. Immediately upon finishing the report, she stuffed it into an envelope that she placed inside her jacket pocket. The next time she went out she would mail it.
While her hand was in the pocket of her jacket, she made a discovery. The check from Sir. Somehow she had all but forgotten it. She smiled. This should cheer her a little.
She crouched before her nightstand and spread the scrap of paper out over the even surface, smoothing it flat where the paper curled along the edges.
Sir’s name stared up at her, first in a tidy, undecorated script along the top of the check, and then in the larger, more imposing scrawl of his signature along the bottom. She didn’t know why she kept studying this bit of paper as if it might tell her something about the enigmatic personality who had owned it. She noted the amount had been made out to a much larger sum than they had initially agreed on. Payment for her help last night? Or a little reminder to keep her mouth shut. She dismissed the thought. Why should he care if she told people he had nightmares?
Something new caught her eye—something she had failed to notice before. Her own name on the top line was filled out in its entirety. Teagan Grant. It had been so long since she had gone by any other name than simply Teagan it was almost startling to see her last name glaring up off the paper. It stirred memories she didn’t care to unearth.
Shoving those thoughts to the back of her mind, Teagan focused on the aspect of this that disturbed her the most, and she found herself echoing Sir’s sentiments of last night:
I never gave you my name
.
Chapter 16
Teagan didn’t spend much more time examining Sir’s check. Now she finally had it in her possession the thing she most wanted to do at the moment was to cash it. It wasn’t that she didn’t think he was good for the money or anything, but… Well, with Sir you never knew. Would it have killed him to pay her in cash?
She resisted the urge to dash out to the nearest bank right away however. After the late hours she had kept last night, she needed a long nap to clear her head. But even more than that, she wanted a hot shower to thaw out her frozen fingers and toes. She double-checked the latch on the door to her apartment before slipping out of her clothes and into the shower. She hadn’t forgotten that weird incident on the street earlier. It was an unnerving notion, the thought of someone secretly spying on her, following her…
She shook away such thoughts as she stepped beneath the spray of hot water. She was making too much of it. Whoever her mysterious watcher was, it was very unlikely she would ever see him again. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the steamy air and felt warmth begin to trickle through her again.
Her mind strayed to the subject of Sir. Where was he right now? Was he all right after the scary incident last night? Unbidden, the memory of his hand clutching hers stirred to the surface. She knew it had been an unconscious reaction on his part, a need to cling to whoever or whatever was closest at the time. Why then did the thought of it send a surge of warmth spreading through her?
* * * *
It was shortly after noon when Teagan locked the door of her apartment and set off for the quick walk to the post office. All the way there she kept second-guessing herself. She knew with sinking certainty that once this report on Sir was mailed off the future would be set. There was no turning back after this. She suspected Dr. Green wouldn’t take kindly to it if she tried to renege on their deal at some later date. For that matter, if Sir should somehow find out…
She shook away the gloomy thoughts as she stepped into the post office. A few minutes later, when she passed back out those doors, she felt considerably lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from her. The letter was out of her hands now. For better or worse, the decision had been made. Time to move on.
She hailed a passing cab on the street. It was a bit of a luxury, but she hadn’t forgotten the man who’d followed her on the street yesterday. Still not quite able to escape the shivery feeling of unseen eyes following her movements, she couldn’t bring herself to cover the distance to the bank on foot. This was one day the ride would be worth its fare.
“NationBank, please,” she told the driver on a whim. She couldn’t say what brought on the sudden decision to go there. Well, why not, she asked herself. One bank was as good as another. Besides, a tiny part of her was curious about this business Sir was so obsessed with. What was the harm in catching a peek at the inside of the building where he spent all of his days?
When, a few minutes later, the cab let her out in front of the bank’s doors, she swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. The local branch of NationBank was an imposing sight, the looming size of the building combining with its fancy architecture to make every other business lining the street seem insignificant. Teagan grew dizzy trying to count the many floors climbing upward toward the blue sky above, and she quickly gave up the attempt.
The revolving doors ahead emitted a constant stream of well dressed men and women who hurried past without giving a second glance to the hesitant young woman in their midst, standing beneath the shadow of the towering building and trying to work up the courage to enter. Teagan drew a staying breath, cast her fears to the winds, and plunged straight into the mass of strangers pouring through the doors.
After a few embarrassing, unsuccessful tries at stepping through the revolving doors were frustrated by her own clumsiness, Teagan finally found herself in the bank’s lobby. This was a less impressive sight, despite the high vaulted ceilings and expensive décor. Banks, after all, were pretty much the same everywhere. This one was just larger and higher class than most.
Teagan felt distinctly out of place waiting in line to get to a teller. The men and women at her front and back had the dress and manners to belong in a place like this. She did not. Suddenly, the brown pants and sweater outfit that had felt perfectly suitable out on the street now seemed drab and dowdy. It was a relief when the line moved forward and she found herself at last at the opposite end of the counter from an employee.
“Hi. I’d just like to cash this,” she said, slipping Sir’s check across the cool granite counter.
“No problem,” the distracted teller, a middle-aged brunette, replied. “I just need to see a picture ID.”
“ID?” Teagan frowned.
“Absolutely. We don’t cash checks without an ID,” the other woman replied firmly, shooting her a doubtful glance over the top of her thick glasses.
Teagan felt her cheeks grow warm. “Oh, I, uh, didn’t know that. I guess I’ll have to go elsewhere—”
But the teller had caught sight of the signature on the check. “Wait, hold on,” she said, as Teagan started to pull it back across the counter. “Is this a check from Mr. Rotham?” Her tone had taken on an abrupt change, going from annoyed to considerate. Appearing suddenly eager to help, she didn’t wait for an answer. “Never mind. Maybe we can make an exception in this case. Just let me call upstairs and clear it with him.”
Teagan started. “No, no, that’s not necessary,” she rushed, panicked at the thought of what her employer would say to her disturbing him at work.
But the teller wasn’t listening and had already picked up the phone. After a brief moment conferring with someone on the other end—a conversation Teagan could only half make out, the bank employee settled the phone back into its cradle. “Mr. Rotham would like a word with you in his office,” she said. “Take the elevator up to the eighth floor and make a right at the end of the corridor.”
“But, but—” Teagan could think of no way to finish the protest. Any meeting with Sir was bound to be awkward, as all of their past encounters had proven, but it would be particularly so after last night. She had seen him in an unprecedented moment of weakness, and she suspected the calculating and controlled Sir she knew was unlikely to forgive her for that. What could he want with her now?
She wasn’t aware she was drawing her check back across the counter until the bank employee brought the tip of a ballpoint pen down on it and dragged it back her way. “I’ll take care of this for you,” she said helpfully. “The cash will be waiting for you when you get back.”
Teagan thanked her and moved toward the elevator in a daze. What did Sir have in store for her now? Maybe it wasn’t about last night at all, she told herself, punching the up button on the elevator. Had he discovered some other aspect of her tasks from the night before last he was unsatisfied with? Was he calling her upstairs to fire her?
She tried to block out the awful possibility but couldn’t refrain from further speculation on the ride up.
When the elevator doors opened, she found herself at the end of a long corridor. Following the directions brought her to a row of doors. Cracking the first one and peering through, she encountered a reception desk where a pretty, petite redhead was busily clicking away behind a keyboard. Teagan cleared her throat loudly to get the young woman’s attention.
At the noise, the receptionist peeked up over the top of her computer. “May I help you?”
“Yes, I think I could use a pointer in the right direction. I was told to see Mr. Rotham in his office.”
“You’ve found it,” the receptionist chirped, smiling. “Can I get your name?”
Teagan gave it.
“All right,” the receptionist said, “I’ll tell Mr. Rotham you’re here. Just take a seat.” Vacating her desk, she pointed Teagan to a line of chairs along the wall before disappearing through a door at the far side of the room. The seats were stiff and slippery, the kind of chairs built more for looks than comfort. That was all right. Teagan was too nervous to have relaxed anyway.
The seat of her pants had barely met the chair before the receptionist reappeared, emerging from the door Teagan could only suppose led to Sir’s office. “Javen will see you right away.”
Javen? And was it Teagan’s imagination or was there a faint inflection of surprise in the girl’s voice? Then again, taking in the other woman’s trim gray suit and dressy high heels, maybe it was no wonder she was surprised Sir would usher a woman like Teagan into his office, as if she were someone of importance. Once again, Teagan regretted her choice of clothing for this outing, but it was too late to do anything about it now.
Thanking the other woman, she summoned her courage and stepped through the door into Sir’s office. There, she stopped short. Somehow she had expected a more conventional setting with a computer desk and maybe a couple of chairs packed into a closet sized room. There should be a withered potted tree in the corner and a single framed photo sitting on the edge of a cluttered desk. She should have known realized Sir would never suffer anything so drab and spartan.
His private office was as large as the living room of his home and nearly as lavish. There was a long oak meeting table surrounded by chairs at the far side of the room, along with an assortment of electronic equipment she guessed had something to do with playing slide projections and recording meetings.
To his credit, Sir seemed to be hard at work in the more business oriented end of his office at the moment. His back toward her, he leaned over a stack of folders and a scattering of loose papers with an absorbed attitude. Well, if he was extremely busy she could always come back another time, Teagan thought with relief. Almost before her brain knew what her feet were doing, she was backing out the door again.
Her progress was halted by his sharp, over the shoulder command. “Come back in here.”
Teagan froze.
Chapter 17
Sir never glanced back at her. “Stop hovering in the doorway like a ghoul. Come in and shut the door.”
Teagan obeyed. It never occurred to her to do anything else when faced with one of Sir’s commands. He didn’t look away from his work until the click of the shutting door echoed through the silent room. Then he turned and leaned against the table, surveying her.
Teagan fidgeted. She discovered a loose thread hanging from the long sleeve of her sweater, and plucking at it suddenly became an immensely absorbing business. Her shoes also felt very tight. An odd thing to notice at a time like this, but she barely had room to wiggle her toes. Maybe it was time she moved up a shoe size?
She was contemplating the merits of six and a halfs versus sevens when Sir cut into her thoughts. “I see you found your way up.”
“Yes.”
“They’re taking care of your check downstairs?”
“Uh-huh.” There seemed to be nothing more to say.
“Good. Drag up a chair and sit down. I have a piece of business to talk over with you.”
“With me?” Teagan didn’t try to hide her surprise. Since when had he thought it worth his while to talk over anything with her? Nevertheless, she followed his impatient motion and took a seat at the opposite side of the table. Sir remained standing. For all his sudden summoning, he didn’t seem in any great hurry to present his purpose.