Owned (Office Intrigue Book 8) by Nicole Edwards (year 2 reading books TXT) 📗

I was going to have to show some backbone or this woman was going to talk in circles for the rest of our meal. As much as I appreciated her inviting me here, making an offer at the most opportune time, I needed to know some specifics.

“I don’t want to waste your time or mine, Miss Shaw,” I said softly. “But if I’m to entertain a job offer, I really do need some details.”

At that moment, my phone buzzed.

I glanced over to where it sat on the table. The screen lit up with an incoming text message. It was from a blocked number and there were no words. Only numbers.

“That’s the first detail. Your starting salary,” Tiegan noted. “Go ahead, take a look.”

I picked up my phone, pulled up the text, and stared at it, almost certain my eyes were playing tricks on me. I was pretty sure there was one too many numbers in front of that decimal point.

I frowned, glancing back at Tiegan. A dozen questions hung precariously on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t know which one to ask first.

“As always,” Tiegan said with a smile, “it’s negotiable, but we believe it’s fair.”

Fair? That was an understatement. I didn’t make a third of that in my current … er … my previous job.

“The rest I’ll provide at the interview,” Tiegan said.

“Interview?” I was sincerely confused. I thought she’d offered me the job.

“Unless you’re opposed to it,” Tiegan added.

Was I? I honestly did not know.

I found myself saying, “No. No, of course not.” I needed a job and this was a prospect I couldn’t turn down.

“How does tomorrow evening sound? It’s a bit untraditional, but I think you’ll do fine.”

Untraditional? What did that mean?

I didn’t bother to ask. Something told me Tiegan Shaw wasn’t going to be forthcoming with details.

Tiegan’s head tilted slightly. “Is this something you believe you’re interested in, Miss Bishop?”

Since I didn’t have anything on my agenda for the foreseeable future, aside from a job hunt, it wasn’t like I could very well tell her I wasn’t available, so I answered with, “Of course. Yes.”

Tiegan smiled. “Good. The private jet will be waiting for you at four o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”

I was pretty sure my breath lodged somewhere in my sternum but I managed to squeak out, “Private jet?”

Tiegan’s smile flashed brilliantly. “Trust me, if you’re impressed by that, Miss Bishop, you’re in for a serious treat.”

FOUR

Braelyn

Evening rolled around, and while everyone was getting ready to ring in the new year with friends and family, I was at home. Alone.

Not that I minded much. Dressed in my most comfy attire—baggy sweats, an oversized, long-sleeve T-shirt, and thick wool socks—I was in the one place I felt I could relax, breathe, and not worry someone might be watching me.

I was standing in my kitchen, my laptop open on the counter, a recently made ham and cheese on rye sitting on a paper plate beside it. It was my attempt at dinner, although I wasn’t really hungry, my attention torn between my body’s need for sustenance and my overwhelming desire to find out more about Owned, Incorporated.

I had to admit, I had much better luck satisfying the former than the latter.

Just when I paused my internet search in favor of getting a Sprite from the refrigerator, my phone rang. After snagging a can from the top shelf and tapping the door shut with my foot, I grabbed my cell and hit the button to take my brother’s call, smiling as I did.

“Hey. I thought you were coming over,” I said, glancing at the clock. “Like two hours ago.”

“I’m sorry, Brae. I’ve got a couple of things to take care of.”

He sounded strange, and that was saying something, because for the past year, my brother hadn’t been himself. And his paranoia seemed to be intensifying lately. He was far too preoccupied and likely believing he was covering it well. For the record, he was not.

Pretending not to notice, I went for casual. “Should I remind you that you had things to take care of the last time you promised to stop by?”

“I know. I’m the world’s worst brother. The award’s sitting on my mantel, a glaring reminder.”

The thought made me laugh. “Careful or you’ll be getting a real one.”

“No doubt I deserve it.”

He certainly did not, but there was no telling my brother that. He was the only person in the world who had never let me down.

Although I was disappointed I wouldn’t get to spend time with Ransom that didn’t involve a tense car ride to and from or a very uncomfortable Christmas dinner—just the two of us sitting in his cold, lonely house—I was glad to hear amusement in his voice, even if it did sound a bit strained.

I popped the top on my Sprite, poured it into the glass of ice I’d prepared. “All right. So what’re your big plans for New Year’s?”

“Well, for one, I’ve got to pick up my costume for the party, then go to said party.”

“TJ’s party,” I said giddily, propping my hip on the counter in my small kitchen.

“Yep,” he said easily. “One of his many shindigs.”

My brother knew I was a huge fan of TJ Arlington. I had devoured every single one of his books and usually waited with bated breath for the next. Because my brother had an in with the famous author, I happened to have a signed copy of every single one.

“Is there a theme to this one?” I inquired.

“Black and White Ball.”

“Ooh. That sounds fun. By costume, I assume you’re referring to a tux?”

“I am.”

“What about a date?”

“Not this year.” There was some rustling on his end of the line. “You should come with me.”

With my glass halfway to my mouth, I paused, frowned. Ransom had never—not one single time—invited me to anything that would involve the people he associated with. Why would he start now?

“I’m kidding,” Ransom said quickly, chuckling.

Setting my glass down, I exhaled my relief. “Thank God. I have absolutely