Brothers of Paradise Series

“Oh, you’re not interrupting,” Faye says with a sigh, the disappointment in her voice loosening something in me. “I think that was the first and last time I’ll ever attempt a blind date.”

Something in me relaxes. “That bad?”

“Yes, dear God. What about you? Are you already finished with yours, sir?”Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

I can’t help but smile at the sir added at the end of a question she shouldn’t be asking. “Yes.”

“Huh.”

Her curiosity is palpable, even through the phone. “It wasn’t good either,” I say. “I’m at the office.”

“Working on your project?”

“Yes.”

Faye is quiet for a beat. “I’m nearby. Do you need anything? Take-out, perhaps? I’m sure I could find a kebab shop for you.”

I just ate a dinner at Salt, something she knows full well, too. The answer is clearly no.

But still.

“Get enough for two.”

By the time the elevator dings, I’ve sketched out the adjustments to the digital model that Faye suggested. The wood feels basic-too simple a material-but the more I look at it, the less of an eyesore it becomes. I’m still not sure if it’s right. But she was correct about one aspect, at least. The building needs more natural aspects to ground the design.

I left my office door open and Faye walks in, a large paper bag in hand.

“Hey,” she says, half-smiling. Her hair is down, falling in tumbling black waves around her face and shoulders. Her features look softer, somehow, than at work. Rosy lips and long eyelashes.

And she’s in a dress.

Not one of the work dresses-no, this dress hugs her chest, showing off her waist and then flaring out over curved hips. Little strappy heels on her feet, too. I force my gaze toward the brown takeout bag before she sees me staring.

“What did you end up getting?”

“Burgers.” She puts the food down on the conference table. The smell of fries and grilled meat hits me, and damn if it doesn’t make my mouth water. Salt has great food, but the dishes are tiny. “This one is yours.”

I accept the burger she hands me. There are little scribblings on the top of the wrapper. Faye sees me looking. “Oh, I got one with bacon, which I know you like, but without sesame seeds, which you don’t.”

“I don’t like sesame seeds?”

She shrugs, looking apologetic. “It was in the notes I got from your last assistant.”

“Well, that’s news to me.” I frown down at my burger, thinking about Sara. She’d been too attentive toward the end. I must have complained about sesame seeds getting everywhere.

“I’ll unlearn that piece of information then. Here, have some fries.” Faye pushes the bag toward me. I watch in amusement as she sinks into one of the conference chairs with a pleased sigh. Her off-duty self feels relaxed… open. No assistant has ever been that way with me before.

Mercenary bastard that I am, I exploit it immediately.

“So the blind date was that bad?”

“Terrible. He was nearly half an hour late. And then he only spoke about himself, just pausing to drink or to give me sleazy compliments.”

“Unsmooth.”

“Yes.” She pushes her thick hair behind an ear, bending to take a bite of her burger. “And when I mentioned I was an architect, he made a reference to Indiana Jones.”

I grit my teeth at that one. “You’re joking.”

“No. He legitimately thought I was an archeologist for half of the evening.”

“Who set you up with him?”

“My best friend. She’s great, but doesn’t have the greatest judgement in guys sometimes.”

“Clearly.” Anyone with half a brain could see that Faye wouldn’t be satisfied with a man like that. She must have been running circles around him all night.

Faye narrows her eyes at me, and the fire is back in them. “You look pleased.”

There’s no point in denying it. “I am.”

“Why?”

“I can’t have my assistant’s focus divided, can I?”

Faye rolls her eyes and heads to the trash can to throw out the wrapping paper. Rolling her eyes at me seems to be her thing. No one has done that to me for years, not since my youngest sibling turned fifteen. “How about your date?” she asks. “Not good?”

“No.”

Faye nods encouragingly, clearly wanting me to continue. I run my fingers along the edge of the table and consider. This relaxed air between us… I like it entirely too much for my own good, not to mention hers.

“I would rather have spent the evening watching paint dry.”

She winces. “Ouch. Poor girl, to be described that way.”

“She’ll be fine,” I say. “I’m sure she has dozens of men waiting to take my place. She said so herself.”

“She didn’t.”

I nod grimly. “Indeed she did.”

Faye heads to the model in the corner, her gaze thoughtful. “So you came back here.”

“Evidently.”

She leans in for a closer look of the opera house, her long hair shielding her face entirely from view. It’s unsettling to see her study it so closely. Something I’ve worked on for nearly a year, and her eyes are the first to see it. I’m still not sure if it was a mistake to involve her.

But she had good ideas, and the deadline is looming.