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Chapter Six – Close Quarters
Annabell was halfway through decoding a string of suspicious invoices when her phone vibrated on the polished desk. She hesitated before picking it up—Michael had made it clear this work was to stay confidential—but when she saw Mia's name flashing on the screen, her chest tightened.
Hey, the text read. I'm outside. I need to talk to you. It's important.
She glanced toward Michael's closed office door, her pulse drumming. Mia didn't know what she'd gotten herself into by showing up here.
A knock at the glass wall startled her. One of the receptionists poked her head in.
"There's a woman asking for you, Miss Annabell. She says she's a… personal friend."
Annabell swallowed. "Tell her I'll be right down."
She slipped her tablet into a drawer and hurried to the lobby. Mia stood in front of the security desk in a denim jacket and black dress, fidgeting. When she saw Annabell, she let out a huge sigh of relief.
"Finally," Mia said, grabbing her hand. "I thought they were going to call the cops. You look exhausted. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Annabell whispered. "You can't just show up here."
"I had to," Mia insisted. "You disappeared. You haven't answered my calls. I need to talk to you somewhere private."
Before Annabell could argue, Mia pulled her toward the revolving door.
"Just ten minutes," she pleaded. "There's a café across the street. Please."
Against her better judgment, Annabell let herself be led outside. The late afternoon sun felt harsh after the dim office. They crossed to the restaurant, and Mia ushered her into a quiet corner booth.
"I know you think I'm being dramatic," Mia began, "but I had to see you. This whole situation is… intense. You don't even know this man. What if he's dangerous?"
Annabell rubbed her temples. "He's not dangerous. He's—"
"Your boss," Mia interrupted. "Annabell, you've known him for two days, and you're living in his house?"
Her chest tightened. She wanted to protest, to explain that it wasn't that simple—but part of her knew Mia was right to be worried.
"You don't understand," Annabell whispered. "This isn't just a job. It feels like something I was meant to do."
Mia stared at her, searching her face. "You're in love with him."
Annabell opened her mouth, then closed it. The answer was there in the silence between them.
Before she could say more, her phone buzzed again—this time with Michael's number. Her stomach dropped. She answered, voice trembling.
"Where are you?" His tone was velvet over steel.
"I—I stepped out for a moment. Mia needed to talk—"
"You left without telling me."
"I'm sorry," she stammered. "I—"
"Come back. Now." His voice was low, controlled, and furious. "And Annabell—"
Her breath caught.
"I will definitely punish you for this."
The line went dead.
Annabell met Mia's wide eyes across the table. Her heart was a wild, traitorous drumbeat in her chest.
And in that moment, she realized she was terrified—and thrilled—by what awaited her when she returned.
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