“Mr. Benson,” she went on, “my name is Becky Fenwick. We had an appointment this morning.”
“I’m sorry?” he asked, confused.
“Patricia—"
He rolled his eyes. He would kill his assistant when he got a hold of her.
“It’s the bloody ass-crack of dawn,” he groused. “Why on earth would Patricia make an appointment at this time of the morning?”
“Maybe that’s something you need to take up with your assistant. Regardless, I’m here for my appointment and I bought coffee, so are you going to let me in?”
He drained the cup and crushed it in his hand. “Do you know how to work a coffee machine Ms. Fenwick?” he asked.
“Depending on the type—"
He swung the door open and swept his hand through the air, ushering her in. “The kitchen is at the end of the hall. I can’t function before I’ve consumed at
