Uncovered by Emily Snow Read Free Book Online Page A

a child—when I was Gemma —but I’d stared at it with
brand new eyes the day Dora took me on the grand tour a couple weeks ago. “This
floor is pretty exclusive,” she’d informed me, a note of jealousy in her voice
as she led me around.
    “You’ve got Margaret and everyone on the
executive committee, including Cate Morton, our CFO, and Philip Sanderson, the
vice-president. This is also where all meetings for the board of directors are
held, but you won’t really need to worry about those.” Dora had tossed her red
hair over her shoulder and touched my forearm, wearing a little smile. “ You’re here for Margaret.”   
    I’d hated those words and the dismissive
way she said them, but I beamed like an enthusiastic fool as I took in the
atmosphere I’d be working in. When my father was alive, I vaguely remembered
the whole floor having a warm, embracing vibe—rich earth tones and big,
comfortable furniture my dad would let me jump all over—but that had all been
replaced. Now, there was a moody mix of black and white—plush, pale leather
seating, onyx floors, and abstract plywood sculptures gracing my stepmother’s
massive office.
    I loathed the changes.
    Sadly, even my little corner of the
executive floor reminded me of Beetlejuice . My office was located right
across the hall from Margaret’s, and it was a ten by ten ode to light and dark,
from the black leather chair to the iMac and even the checkerboard-patterned
paperweight.
    “You can replace any of the artwork and
knickknacks,” Dora had flippantly told me two weeks ago, nodding at the
paperweight. It looked like it was there more for décor than practicality. “It
belonged to Margaret’s former PA.”
    “What happened to her?” I’d asked.
    “Fashion wasn’t right for her.”
    As soon as I had the chance, I’d spruce
this place up with color, but first—first I would take care of Oliver. And
getting through the first day with his mother. Sitting down, I fired up my
iMac, and logged into my employee profile with the information Dora had given
me. Multiple mail alerts flashed across the upper left side of the screen, not
really drawing me in until I saw a message from Stella that had been sent on
Tuesday.
    I clicked on it and read as I pulled
Oliver’s envelope from my purse.
     
    Still
staying golden? –Stella Marchand
     
    Once the letter was in front of me, the
paperweight sitting on its right corner, I sent her a quick response.
     
    Twenty-four carat. But … this is my first
day. I’ll let you know at the end.
     
    Exiting my inbox, I took a deep breath
and glanced over at the multiline phone a few inches from the left of my
keyboard. Even though I still had twenty minutes to spare until work officially
began, I needed to get Oliver out of the way.
    When I lifted the receiver to my ear
though, I hesitated. This was a mistake. Anything involving Oliver and
myself was clearly a mistake, and yet here I was letting my pride lead me
headfirst into a disaster. Instead of letting it go, I shook my head and
started to dial his office number. “Screw it,” I muttered just seconds before
the sound of an inviting male voice greeted me.
    “Oliver Manning speaking.” A bolt of
excitement quickened my pulse as I realized I’d reached him directly instead of
a receptionist.
    “What the hell do you think you’re
doing?” I demanded in lieu of a greeting.
    “Lizzie?” He laughed. It was one of those
deep, sexy chuckles, and I felt the tiny hairs on my arms stand on end. “This is Lizzie, isn’t it?”
    “Yes,” I snapped.
    “Took longer than I thought.” When I
snorted, he added in a low voice, “And what I was doing was being a gentleman.
Why the hell are you giving me a hard time for it?”
    Curling my toes, I slid down into my
chair. “I thought you weren’t screwing HR.”
    “I’m not,” he answered without missing a
beat. “Is it just me or was there a little jealousy behind that question?”
    “How’d you get my