June
"Mr. Hermes," I hear Mr. Paul say, followed by the soft thud of the door closing.
"Paul, what do you have for me?" Mr. Grande’s voice answers, slightly out of breath, or maybe I’m imagining it again.
I swallow hard, the air thick with the scent of files and paper in this cramped storeroom.
"Well, about the outcome of the gala—" Mr. Paul begins, but Hermes cuts him off.
"Save that for later. Anything else?"
Oh. So he interrupts other people too. I’m not the only one. Perhaps I was wrong about him. It could be that the way he snapped at me had nothing to do with us sleeping together.
My teeth catch my lip, thoughts racing. Maybe there’s still a chance for—
"Did you perhaps see Miss Alexander? Sarah said she saw her enter your office."
Mr. Paul’s question snaps me back to realit
