CHAPTER SEVEN
Liam.
.
.
Evelyn walked feebly into my office, clutching her notepad as if it was her life. Her behavior at work this past month was top notch, but one thing still bothered me.
Why didn't she talk about that night?
I wasn't drunk, but she was. And even at that, I knew she remembered almost every single thing that happened. But since then, she seemed even more oblivious.
I couldn't fucking take it anymore.
But what could I do?
Maybe she was just really good at listening to instructions.
Regardless, she was still my secretary, and I still had a lot of work to do today. Number one, includes giving her a huge task to work on.
“Close the door.” I ordered. She flinched slightly, but moved and shut the door with a loud click. I still found it very hard to believe this was the same Evelyn that seduced me that night.
“Take a seat.” I said, getting up to dim the lights further. I could see her tense in the seat, as if she was prey and I was the predator.
I walked towards my seat, crossed my legs and began. “Evelyn,” I started, opening up my drawers and pulling out a brown envelope. “You've been working with me for how long?”
“5 years, sir.” She replied stiffly. Why was she always so nervous around me?
“And in those 5 years, have you ever hidden information from me?”
“No, never sir.”
I leaned back in my chair, watching her expression. I passed over the brown envelope, making sure not to spill out its contents.
“What you have there is a list. A list of people who shouldn't have been at the wedding last month, but somehow, they got in. And they got away with something very…. valuable.” I said carefully, observing her expression flicker from panic to confusion.
“H-how could this happen?” She asked, pulling out the list and running her eyes over the names immediately. Evelyn was efficient like that, always wanting to be on top of everything.
“No one has an idea. But they have valuable information, and are blackmailing one of our clients. I'll send Andrew to your desk. He'll help out.” I said, grabbing the cup of coffee and taking a large sip.
“Okay sir. I'll get on it right away.” Gone was the nervous wreck I had seen a while ago, and in her place was work Evelyn, as her expression turned serious and determined.
I liked that about her.
“Is there anything else sir?” She asked, preparing her things.
“Yes, actually.” I called, suddenly remembering. “I'm leaving town this weekend, and my schedule is too tight to fit in any meetings again. I need you to meet with a client.” I slid across his business card. She took it, skimmed over the contents, and focused her brown eyes on me.
“Okay sir.”
And with that, Evelyn left, leaving me in my own pool of thoughts. My phone buzzed almost immediately, and I glanced at it, groaning inwardly.
“Yes, mother?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If there was anything I was deathly uncomfortable with, it was going grocery shopping with my mom on a Thursday morning. She always knew how to drag me out of the office.
Now, I stood outside the mall, waiting for her to find the ‘perfect nightdress’.
Why were women so picky?
I received numerous stares and glances as I stood, both from men and women. Having a CEO stand outside a mall in New York wasn't something you saw everyday.
“That's Liam Blackwood. I hear he's a real hot shot.”
“Well he certainly looks like it. What is he doing there? Waiting for his girlfriend?”
“He doesn't have girlfriends, Jane. Like all rich men, he has whoever he wants without personal attachments.”
I glanced up at the two girls who were openly gossiping about me when I was less than three feet away, and they scurried off, giggling. I let out a low sigh.
Mother.
“Oh there you are my little pumpkin!”
I turned around, and found mom with huge bags of….whatever those were, and a huge grin on her face. “So, did you see any lovely ladies while you were out here?” She drawled as we stepped into the car.
I could've just waited in here instead.
But mother was..well, mother.
“No, mom. I didn't see anyone.”, I replied nonchalantly, placing her bags in the back seat. She frowned at me, and looked out the window of the passenger’s seat.
“You don't want to give me grandchildren. I always knew. But you don't have a choice.”
I narrowed my eyes at her tone. “You'll get grandchildren when I'm ready ma. Please.”
The plea wasn't false. For a woman who was well over 50, her mind worked like that of a teenager. She was as crazy as they come.
“Oh no no, I don't want to hear it. I know just what to do.” She said, looking me dead in the eye.
I didn't like that.
“Can I at least know what you're planning before
I have to pick you up somewhere again?”
She chuckled. “I'm getting you a wife.”