Free Strapped by Nina G. Jones Page B

NDA. I am really excited though. I am going to be really busy the next couple of weeks getting familiar with the new job and getting ready for St. Petersburg. Let’s get together when I get back.”
    “We must. I want to hear about your trip.”
    “Oh it will be all work and no play, believe me. Love ya.”
    “Love ya too!”
    When I return home, Rick is noticeably quieter. I ask if anything is wrong to which he replies with a simple “no.” I am not sure I believe him, but I have research to do and I need time to comprehend the new information I just learned about Mr. Holden. I set my alarm knowing this thrilling literature is sure to make me nod off. I delve into a book about writing business proposals and last about an hour before I am gone.
    I get a nervous feeling in my stomach as I pull into the driveway for my second day of work. No one should feel this anxious seeing their boss, but I have a physical reaction at the thought of him and I can’t help it. I chose a navy blue A-line dress with a skinny red belt and navy open toe kitten heels from the new wardrobe. I pressed soft curls into my hair; something about the stark straightness of the new style was not me. Harrison gave me a key to the house on my first day, so I let myself in.
    There is no sign of Harrison when I enter and the house is incredibly quiet. I call out meekly. I don’t feel comfortable walking through his house and I wonder again, if this is one of his little mental games. My heels click loudly against the floor with each step, but still no one calls out. I peer into his office; the room looks perfectly organized, as usual. The bathrooms are unoccupied. The guest bedroom looks untouched. I haven’t seen the other levels of the house and I choose not venture into them. Finally I walk past what at first appears to be a huge wooden panel on the wall. It is completely flush, but it is the same wood as the other doors in the house. There is no handle, but I do see a keyhole. I press my hand against it and feel it give just a little. It’s probably just a storage closet. My phone rings and I nearly jump out of my dress. It is a number I don’t recognize.
    “Shyla speaking.”
    “You’re early again.” He says it almost playfully. I whip around to see if Taylor is in the house.
    “Sorry, I was always taught that if you’re not early, you’re late.”
    “That’s a good habit. I like it.” I blush. “I’m sorry. I had an early morning meeting to attend and I am running behind. I should be arriving in five minutes. Harrison is with me. The house is all yours. Help yourself to breakfast on the counter.” He hangs up without saying goodbye. I wonder why I wasn’t a part of this meeting, but feel slightly relieved as I have much to learn. I look overhead to see if there are surveillance cameras and take one last look at what I believe is some kind of hidden door. I am strangely tempted to try my key in it, but common sense and morality get the better of me.
    I grab a cup of coffee, head to the office, and open up all the documents that Marsha prepped for me. There are proposals with lots of jargon, numbers and graphs. Underneath the proposals there appears to be profiles of various Russian figures. Each folder contains pictures along with personal details such as family members, hobbies, and job histories. I really do feel like a spy. My job is to learn who these people are and prompt interesting discussion when we host them. I cannot believe I am being paid to do this, but I will gladly accept. I dig into the reports when I hear the front door open. He’s here. His footsteps come straight towards the office and he glides in.
    “Good morning, Ms. Ball.”
    “Good morning, Mr. Holden.”
    “Let’s dig into these proposals, shall we? Oh and this is for you.” He points to a 17” brand new Macbook on one of the tables. I giggle inside. I love new gadgets.
    The party is over. No more Heather the stylist and dress up time with Mona.