The Secretary and Her Boss

Chapter 18

"You aren't supposed to be here," wasn't the best first set of words to say to someone, but yet, there I stood, on the beach in Costa Rica, staring at Laurence as he came into ear shot, unable to hide my surprise and irritation.

"You never go to shoots," I added, my voice tinged with a hint of disbelief. It was as if the rarity was the only solid explanation for why I felt strangely angry and flustered that he was there.

His presence was a disruption, a threat to my focus. I couldn't afford to have him nearby, not now. Laurence had a way of pulling my attention away from where it needed to be, and this was no exception.

As if to prove my point, everyone else on the beach seemed to freeze, caught in a moment of confusion. They were used to Laurence being the boss and were suddenly uncertain of whose direction to follow. Even Michale, who was unflappable, stopped taking practice pictures and spun, staring— well more like gawked— at Laurence Royal as he came up the beach.

"Back to work! Nothing has changed," I called out, trying not to look momentarily hurt when everyone seemed to glance at Laurence for a beat—seeming to ask for permission—before they fell back into motion.

Spinning, I grabbed Laurence by the arm and tugged him several feet up the beach— which was extremely difficult because Laurence clearly weighed far more than I did— before turning to stare up at him. My sandaled feet did nothing to help our height difference and I was finding it very difficult to look intimidating when I was clearly so much shorter.

"Laurence," I said by way of greeting. No, 'Mr. Royal'. Just Laurence. A taboo that I refused to be afraid of diving into. If we were on the same level, I wouldn't show nerves. I couldn't afford to. "WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING. HERE."

Laurence looked momentarily confused, eyes assessing my expression. "You're angry."

"Yes," I said, trying to keep my voice at a normal volume and failing. "Shoots are my responsibility. And you coming here feels like a power play." I attempted a scowl for good measure, but apparently it had the opposite effect because I watched the corner's of Laurence's mouth twitch.

"That's not why I'm here."

Crossing my arms, I tried to look intimidating again. "Then what?"

He surprised me by pushing his hair out of his face, sending strands falling out of place. "Miss Winter's email."

I raised a brow. "What email?"

Laurence reached into a leather messenger bag at his hip and pulled out his phone. He scrolled for several seconds before holding it out to me. I stared at the screen, dumbfounded. "She changed the budget. You've been working with new numbers. Half a million more than what we can afford. I tried calling—"

"My phone doesn't work here. I don't have an international plan," I said, still scanning Allie's email.

"That explains the lack of response," he said more to himself, sounding distracted. "I called the hotel on the way here. They said you were already setting up and have a policy against bothering guests."

He looked past me at the shoot, brow puckering with concern, hair slightly wild from having raked his fingers through it. I could see him scanning the details, putting a price tag on every item, like someone in a showroom— Do price tags float above everything he looks at?

This time it was my turn to fight a smile. "Laurence... I never got Allie's new budget numbers."

His gaze snapped back to me, forgetting about the shoot in the background for a moment, his eyes refocusing.

"The internet doesn't work on my phone," I continued. "Again, no international plan."

I raised a brow, pursing my lips to keep from smiling. "Did you really think I'd agree to Allie's attempted budget change after she signed off on the one we came up with? Especially without consulting you first?"