Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Niamh stopped in the doorway. “Well, Jessie, how’s things? Are ye well?”
I pointed to the sitting room. “Would you join me for a moment? Tristan, you can wait out here.”
She led the way, settling into a chair and putting her sneakered shoes on the ottoman.
I sat down on the couch. “The manipulation game has to end,” I started without preamble. “I know you’re doing your thing, and I have no doubt I’ll be glad of it soon enough, but I don’t like Austin using those tactics on me, and I don’t like you using them on my team. I don’t want to feel like I have no control of what happens in this house and in my life. I got out of a controlling relationship, and I will not fall into another one, no matter how well meaning. If you want me to hire someone, you bring that person to me directly. If you want to give Tristan a kick in the arse, you tell me first that there’s a problem that we can maybe solve. You are not the leader of this team, I am, and I cannot do my job if I’m in the dark about half the things going on.”
Her look was placid, and the silence stretched. I let her take all that in.
“I wondered if ye’d push back,” she finally said. “Good girl, yerself. There is just one more seed planted, but she isn’t actually on yer team, so that doesn’t matter.”
“Fine.” I relaxed into the cushions, a little surprised with myself that I’d been so bold. Then again, I’d hit my limit, and getting that out there was my relief valve. “Tristan, you can come in now,” I called.
His glowing gaze was rooted to Niamh. “How did you give me a kick in the arse?”
“I knew full well ye wouldn’t tolerate Jessie’s frustration over that donkey Mr. Tom smothering her. He’s unbearable when he’s trying to organize dinner, let alone manage someone with as many demands and interruptions as Jessie has these days. I figured you’d step in to give her some space, and that might remind ye that yer job isn’t standing in a corner like some creep. We already have someone doing that, like. The vampire is plenty good at that role, whether we like it or not. No, ye needed a more active role in her professional life. If this didn’t work, I had a few other ideas to make ye step up.”
He was as quiet now as she’d just been a moment ago, equally taking it all in. “What about your prediction that I was too self-centered for a job like this?”
“Ah, sure, ye might be. But I had a look at the other options, and they aren’t good enough. They aren’t fast or strong enough. She needs ye, and we need her, so ye’d best cop on so we don’t all find ourselves in an early grave.”
He grunted and fell into a chair near the back of the room. I knew he wanted to know more about the hacker, but he would clearly let Niamh, Austin, and me handle the interview. For my portion, I really only had one question. Austin would handle the rest. He was the good judge of character, not me.
“I was about to give up,” Tristan admitted, getting comfortable and opening the diary. He took out a pen.
“You were going to give— What are you doing?” I asked.
He paused with pen to paper and looked up. “Writing your thoughts and hopes and dreams. Mr. Tom has made it perfectly clear that it’s a diary. First, I’m going to pen your absolute love of Edgar’s flowers and how you long to put them in a window box…”
“What in the—” Niamh pushed up a little to get a clear look at him. “Ye really have gone around that bend.”
“When in Rome,” he murmured as I laughed at the absurdity of it all.
Austin descended the stairs but stopped at the bottom. I wondered why until Mr. Tom entered with an air of importance and a freshly pressed tuxedo.
“Ah, yes, fantastic,” he said as he noticed Tristan. “It’s good to see someone takes his job seriously.” His withering glance at Niamh made clear whom he was talking about.
“See?” Tristan said to me, continuing to write.
Austin entered the room after Mr. Tom, walked around him, and then settled next to me on the couch. He wore a button-down shirt and nice jeans, professionally casual.
“Should I…” I looked down at my jeans and plain black T-shirt. “Should I put something else on, too?”
“Should ye, me arse,” Niamh said. “Ye’re grand. Here, Mr. Tom, get me a beer, would ya? I’m dyin’ of thirst.”
“I most certainly will not,” Mr. Tom told her. “You are about to do an interview. At least try to look the part.”