More Muffia (The Muffia Book 2) by Ann Royal Nicholas Read Free Book Online Page A

person in our immediate area who had not returned from lunch was the newest member of our immediate team—Titania Cibulkova, a Moldovan immigrant by way of the Ivy league, who had become Jamie’s exclusive executive assistant—the very same assistant some of us suspected of having sex with our boss. And, as it happened, in a twist that I would soon come to find out was related, Jamie also had not returned from lunch.
    Carolyn must have spotted my quizzical expression as I glanced from Titania’s desk to Jamie’s office—no cubiffice for Jamie— because she suddenly said quietly, “Things really heated up while you were gone.”
    I felt my eyebrows rise. Very interesting ... “Do tell.”
    Carolyn took a sip of her Kombucha, got up, and strolled over.
    Titania had arrived at Talent Partners four months earlier and worked a few different desks in the theatrical and literary divisions of the agency before landing with Jamie Harris. Titania was pretty and smart, and she dressed like a high-class secretary, but she did not strike me as gay. Not that I’d ever been particularly skilled at pegging a woman as lesbian unless her wardrobe was that of a bull dyke.
    Both Carolyn and I noticed the furtive glances exchanged between Titania and Jamie prior to my leaving for Japan and surmised the two were beginning an office romance. Now, clearly, there had been developments.
    Carolyn stood poised within whispering distance with her open bottle of Kombucha. “You like that stuff?” It smelled awful.
    “It’s so good for you,” she said. “All the probiotics.”
    “MMMmm.” I’d heard the latest spiel about how we need to put more bacteria into our guts because our food is, in fact, too clean. We must eat dirt is what they were saying. Dirt tasted better to me than Kombucha.
    “Anyway,” she said sotto voce, her eyes on the entrance. “This is the third day this week the two of them have taken an extended lunch.”
    “Are you sure they’re together?” It seemed like the logical question.
    “I haven’t followed them, but watch what happens—Jamie will come back and half an hour later, Titania will show up.” Carolyn glanced up toward the entrance and immediately pivoted back to her desk. “Here we go.”
    At that moment, Jamie strode across the floor, her burgundy leather Longchamp shoulder bag swinging alongside her. Peering beyond Jamie, I did not see the lovely Titania. I looked over at Carolyn who shrugged and mouthed the word “watch” before turning back to her computer screen.
    Jamie Harris, if not the beauty so many of the agency’s clients were, knew how to maximize what she had. Average in every way, she was always well-coiffed and impeccably dressed—usually in expensive earth-tone suits by Jil Sander or Armani—always carrying a bag that enhanced what she was wearing. The Longchamp was my favorite.
    She stopped at my desk. “Good trip?”
    “Great trip,” I said, keeping it short. Jamie was not someone who enjoyed hearing an elaborate breakdown of events.
    “What’s with the purple Croc?” she asked, clearly perplexed, having grown accustomed to seeing me in heels.
    “Rolled my ankle running for the plane.”
    She grunted unsympathetically. “Sorry to hear that. All the documents ready?”
    “End of the day,” I said.
    She looked like she might protest— that this was far too long—but she just smiled. “Good. When they’re ready, just give everything to Titania.” And with that, she turned toward her office door.
    “Where is Titania?” I called after her.
    “She’ll be here,” said Jamie over her shoulder.
     
     
    A couple of hours later, my work still unfinished, Titania had not only returned, she was now inside Jamie’s office with the door closed. Thinking about what might be going on in there, I felt distracted and picked up my mobile without checking caller I.D.
    “Hey babe, am I seeing you this evening?”
    Steven. If truth be told, picking up had less to do with not