Arie smiled. “How could I forget Miss Frosty?”
“She quit.”
Her smile disappeared. “She quit? How come?”
Rome shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. That day we went out to lunch, when I came back she said she needed to see me then at day’s end she walked into my office and handed me her resignation.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
Arie frowned. Something was not right with that picture. “And before that day she’d never given any indication that she was unhappy?”
“No sign at all,” he said. “At least none that I noticed. It was the weirdest thing…” His voice trailed off and his gaze took on a look of confusion.
For some reason Arie didn’t like the sound of that. In fact, thinking back on that afternoon she was beginning to remember some things that now seemed downright suspicious. The cool reception, the rolling of the eyes, the abrupt dismissal when the assistant was ready to go back to her office. It was all adding up to something that she was almost too scared to say out loud. But she had to.
“Rome,” she said, her voice deceptively calm, “before that day you introduced me as your fiancée did your personal assistant know that you were engaged?”
He gave her a puzzled frown. “Not until the day before you dropped by. Why?”
For a moment Arie didn’t answer. Was his puzzlement for real or was he hiding something? She decided to press further. “Why was she so frigid to me when I dropped by your office?”
Rome’s frown deepened. “I don’t know. PMS or something?”
Arie gave him a heated glare. Typical man. Why was that the first thing they threw out when a woman showed anger? But she wasn’t going to let him throw her off track. She was on to something. She could feel it. “Let’s explore that ‘or something’ you just mentioned. What else could have triggered that woman’s ire toward me?”
“I dunno.” Rome shrugged. “And what makes you think she had ‘ire’ toward you?”
She ignored the question. Even if he hadn’t noticed it, she certainly had. The question wasn’t whether it had happened but why. “Tell me something,” she said, looking him straight in the eyes. “Is there anything going on between you and your personal assistant?”
Rome’s head jerked up then his gaze narrowed as he stared back at her. “What kind of a question is that?”
So he was surprised by her question. That much was obvious. But was he surprised because of the question or because she’d hit a certain nail on the head? “It sounds to me,” she said, her voice cool, “that your employee is emotionally involved with you. Is there anything more to that involvement than just emotions?”
Rome’s jaw slackened. Then he scowled. “What the hell are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” she replied, her voice beginning to rise. She caught herself and glanced around. Luckily, there was no-one seated close enough to hear her. “I’m saying,” she said again, but calmer this time, “that your employee obviously has a thing for you. In fact, I would say she’s totally in love. Do you deny it?”
“What the…” Rome looked like he didn’t know what had hit him. In fact, he looked flummoxed. Damn, he was good. His consternation was almost convincing. “If Iyana was in love with me I had no idea.”
Arie didn’t bother to hide her skepticism. “That,” she said, her tone bitter, “I find hard to believe.”
***
Rome paced the floor of his bedroom, mumbling to himself like a madman. And he might as well be insane, with all he was going through. It was now two hours since he’d parted from Arie and he still felt like he’d been whacked with a two-by-four. How the heck had he ended up in this crazy situation?
He was in the doghouse with two women and for reasons unknown to him. It seemed that Iyana was upset because he’d gotten engaged, so upset that she’d gone and quit on him. What? Had she expected him to ask her permission first?
And then, as if that weren’t bad enough, Arie had gone and gotten mad because Iyana was mad that he was engaged. Women! He would never figure them out, not if he lived to be a hundred.
Exhausted from his pacing and his ruminations, Rome dropped down onto the bed then reached for his glass of brandy. He sipped slowly as he pondered his next move. Finally, he came to one conclusion. If he would have peace in his life there was nothing to do but get to the bottom of this Iyana mystery. He would have to track her down and get some answers. It was too late to reach out to her now but he would tackle her first thing in the morning.
After a fitful sleep Rome got up, bleary-eyed and groggy, but satisfied that he had a clear plan for the day. He wasn’t even going into office. He would not rest until he’d had a serious talk with Miss Iyana Jackson, a talk that would end with her agreeing to speak with Arie to set things straight. It would be as simple as that.
But, as oftentimes happens in life, things were not quite that simple. The first problem was, Iyana was not answering her cell phone. He called four times that morning and left two voice messages. It got to the point where he felt like a stalker. He wasn’t going to call that number again.
He hated to do it but he called the home number he found on her file. The result was even worse. At least he’d been able to leave a voice message on her cell phone. When he tried the house phone all he got was a recording that the number had been disconnected.
After two text messages and an email his back was against the wall. He grimaced at the thought but there was nothing left to do but go to her home. He had to understand her real reason for leaving and, somehow, he had to get her to explain all that to Arie. If he could only get Iyana to talk to her and get Arie to listen then everything would be resolved. If clarification didn’t come from him but directly from Iyana’s mouth then Arie would have no alternative but to believe.
It was almost noon when he hopped into his car and sped off to Metairie. Iyana’s home was not hard to find. Nestled at the end of the road, the neat little house was circled by an abundance of flowers that had obviously been tended with great care.
He pulled up in front of it and as he walked toward the house he took in the slightly peeling paint and the worn rocking chair on the front porch. Despite the subtle signs of age the house was beautiful, with windows that were clear and sparkling with soft white curtains falling behind them. On the front door was a cheerful wreath and on the ground in front was a wide mat that said, ‘Welcome to our home’. The place had a happy, lived-in look to it, one that he liked.