Get on the couch (1)

Get on the couch (1)
KIRA
"Do you want me to stop?" Rhys’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
I should nod and end this madness right now, but instead, I shake my head. Rhys stops anyway. I straighten up and look at him. "Is anything wrong?"
"I should be asking you that."
I shake my head again. "Nothing’s wrong. I do have questions about your sister. She introduced herself as…" I don’t get to finish my statement before his expression turns ice-cold. I wouldn’t elicit such a fierce reaction if I asked for his credit card pin.
Since when was it a crime to ask questions? I snort. "You and Shane ran a background check on me, yet I can’t ask a single question about you?"
His brooding expression tells me what he thinks of me challenging him.
"You work for me," is all he says in explanation.
Sure, of course. I almost forgot he was my boss. He is afraid his employees could have a past that will implicate the company’s image.
Or he just wanted to uncover the skeletons in your closet. Wake up, Kira.
"I will get back to work," I announce, straightening my clothes.
Rhys doesn’t say a word. He wants to ask something, but he refrains and sits back behind his desk. "Get me a cup of coffee in thirty minutes."
I stare at him for a while, but he has already switched back to work mode like I was just a fleeting thought in his busy day. He doesn’t even look up, typing away on his keyboard. I wonder if, underneath the table, he is still hard. Did that instantly vanish the moment I tried to ask about Ava?
_____
I spend the next ten minutes catching up with my tasks. It requires Herculean effort to schedule a conference meeting—something that usually takes merely a minute and a few phone calls.
By the time I have ticked the second mini-task off my to-do list, I know I will not be able to focus until I get answers. If curiosity stands in the way of my work, it is my duty to satisfy it and ensure my attention is fully recovered. Technically, I am doing this for the good of my boss and the company.
After convincing myself that stalking someone during office hours is a work need, I guiltily switch to incognito mode and key in Ava’s name.
There are a few searches that pop up for Ava Redmond, none of which have anything to do with the woman I just saw. I’m pretty sure I have seen her face somewhere before; the lack of results doesn’t make sense. I’m about to close the window and return to work when I remember she is adopted.
It’s a long shot, but I type in Rhys Redmond. As expected, several results show up. When I click on the first one, it’s a biography of him with information most people already know about him—schools he went to, his current position in Phoenix Industries. There’s a mention of his family, but nothing about Ava.
Strange. Even if she was adopted, shouldn’t she be publicly recognized as one of them?
I suddenly recall how she introduced herself. What if his family didn’t adopt her and instead kept her as a future bride? With wealthy families, nothing is out of the realm of possibility.
I’m deep in the rabbit hole of Rhys Redmond and the mystery of his abrasive fiancée when the desk phone rings. When I see it’s the CEO’s line, I panic, remembering I was supposed to bring him coffee in thirty minutes.
I check how long it’s been before answering the call. Luckily, I’m only two minutes late.
"Your coffee will be ready in a minute, sir."
He ends the call, so I spring from my desk and rush to the office kitchen. It takes way too long for the coffee to finish dripping. As I hurry back to his office, I’m not certain if I added sugar. Wait. Does Rhys even take sugar with his coffee? For a moment, I’m confused.
My heart skids to a halt when I find him standing over my desk as the printer spits out sheets of paper.
He couldn’t have...
The brooding expression on his face tells me he did, in fact, find the incognito window I had yet to close. Just how many things can go wrong within a single day?
I pass him and enter his office, placing the cup delicately on his desk. If I’m lucky, he saw the window but not what I had searched. Or better yet, he doesn’t care that I looked him up.
The man enters his office with the freshly printed documents in his hands. The space suddenly feels too small. I rearrange the cup to give myself something to do. "Your coffee, sir."
He circles the large desk, glaring at me when I dare to take a step back.
"I’m sorry," the words rush out of my mouth before I can stop them. Instead of soothing the bear, they annoy him even more.
"You know what you did wrong," he says.
"Calling you sir when you said not to?"
My mouth will get me killed one day. Why the hell would I attempt a joke at a time like now?
Rhys stares at me, a calculating glint in his eyes. If I had to guess what he is thinking, I would say he is wondering how fast to kill me.
"I looked into you," I finally admit.
As expected, he isn’t surprised in the slightest bit. He already knew that from seeing my computer screen. Maybe he already predicted I would go snooping as soon as I left his office—the man either has good instincts or I’m an open book.
Rhys finally speaks, his voice low and eerily cool. "I should fire you."
The but hangs in the air, though I know better than to let it give me any hope. The punchline isn’t anything I expected, however.
"Get on the couch."