Chapter 23 GHOSTS
“Magdalena made our food; you didn't hear because she didn't cook here; she just brought the food.” Patrik sat at the table, indicating the chair next to him for me to sit on. “She is shy; she must have taken advantage of the fact that we were upstairs and brought everything here.”
“I didn't see footprints outside that indicated that.” I whispered, still intrigued, looking at the food.
“You don't need to be afraid to eat; Magdalena is mysterious, but she is an excellent cook.” He shrugged, serving white sauce pasta on my plate, including a bit of stew in the corner, and splitting the bread in half, which he placed with the other food. “Eat, you'll see!”
“How can you trust a ghost?” I leaned forward, grabbing his arm; he glanced at the spot and smiled. I quickly pulled my hand away, noticing the careless touch.
“So you believe in ghosts?” Patrik arched his eyebrows, crossing his arms playfully.
“Yes... No, look, maybe... We know so little about life after death, right?” I shrugged, not wanting to appear foolish in front of him. “Ignore me!”
The sound of his laughter was delightful; I looked at him, smiling sheepishly.
“You're right, we know so little...” He seemed serious and sad. “Do you really think that people, when they die, can come back as spirits?”
It sounded like a sincere question, full of hope. I swallowed the delicious food and stared at him firmly.
“I like to think so. I've always felt my parents' love around me, and I prefer to believe that, somehow, they are by my side.” I confessed.
Mr. Morgan seemed to ponder my words. Seeing that I was evaluating him, he changed his posture and opened a new smile.
“Mrs. Magdalena has known me since I was a boy; she lives nearby, and whenever she found out I would be here at the cabin, she insisted on cooking.” He smiled gently, seeming to ponder his own words. “She has always treated me like a son. As soon as we finish our work, before we leave, I'll introduce you to her.”
I looked excitedly at him and couldn't resist teasing.
“It's good to know that besides ghosts, there are living witnesses to your kidnapping me!” I bit into the piece of duck that was in the soup, melting in my mouth. “This is wonderful.”
Laughing, Patrik was amused.
“It's good to be with someone who enjoys eating as much as I do.” He smiled playfully. “And who said Mrs. Magdalena was alive?”
I choked, widening my eyes, making him laugh even louder. I threw the napkin at his face, which amused him.
“This is not funny!” I pretended to be annoyed; I didn't know this relaxed side of my boss.
“It's because you didn't see your face!” He poked the tip of my nose, teasing, taking the napkin and wiping the corner of my lips. “By the way, don't worry; I promise to protect you from any ghost that appears.”
I swallowed hard at his sweet, hoarse voice, so close that if I leaned in, I could kiss him. I pushed the thoughts away, composing myself.
“Kind of you, but I can take care of myself!” I smiled, taking a sip of juice and returning to eating.
Patrik remained serious, staring at me. Returning to his plate, the rest of the lunch was in silence and a bit heavy; it seemed like something was bothering him. After finishing the meal, I cleared the table to wash the dishes.
“What are you doing?” Patrik had taken on his stern CEO tone.
“Um, washing?” I looked at him, surprised. “Is there a problem?”
“You don't need to worry about that; spend your time sorting out the schedule and reviewing the contract until mid-afternoon; I need it ready!” He shrugged, walking briskly out of the kitchen.
“Yes, sir!” I said, rolling my eyes, quickly washing the dishes, and returning to the living room.
Was Mr. Morgan bipolar, or had I said something wrong? I spent the rest of the day with that thought nagging at my mind. Eventually, I managed to clear his schedule, scheduling the trip on the date he had requested via email.
I grabbed the contract and sat down to analyze it. Many clauses were in our favor, but others could turn against us. In Clause 28, Assignments 12B, it said that in case of illness or death of one of the parties, the company executives could take over and shape the contract!
That was dangerous, considering what I had discovered about Mr. Forbs; not all executives were qualified or thought about the company as a whole. I highlighted that part, listing the cons and pointing out necessary improvements.
Other clauses, like higher percentages for the Forbs if the book stories were turned into movies, didn't seem fair. We had percentages of the writers to pass on, administrative costs in all dealings. Despite the cost reduction in costumes, provided by the Forbs' company, the differential was exorbitant.
I sighed, noting each paragraph of that contract that didn't seem to have been drafted by Mr. Morgan, known for his meticulousness in these details. I noticed in the footer that the document was actually prepared by our publisher's lawyer in conjunction with Forbs Industries' legal department. However, it was strange, clearly favoring only one side, not ours!
I furrowed my brow, pulling the computer to research our lawyer's name: Phill Cast. Apparently, he knew Forbs Industries' legal department very well; his son was a contract acquisition lawyer there. Was the father favoring the son so he could get a promotion or bonus? If it were true, I needed to find out; it was an unacceptable attitude, considering we were his employers. I ran my hands over my forehead, tired, when I finished my research and meticulous notes.
With some free time, I decided to make tea and take it to Mr. Morgan, along with some cookies I found in the oven that seemed freshly baked.
“She's definitely a ghost!” I commented quietly, intrigued.
I organized the tray, balancing it on my hip to keep it stable. I put the contract under my arms, next to the notebook. Furthermore, I slowly climbed the stairs, afraid of dropping everything, and stopped in front of the office door, not knowing how to knock. Furthermore, I spent some time there, I don't know how long, analyzing. Should I knock?
I was startled when the door opened, with him standing there staring at me.
“You know, you can see your shadow under the door, right?” He arched an eyebrow. “Why didn't you come in?”
“Well… I'm a bit busy, as you can see.” I replied a bit too curtly; if he knew I was standing there, why didn't he open earlier? “Tea, sir?”
Patrik took the tray from my hands, placing it on the table, making room for everything. He indicated the chair in front of him for me to sit.
“Did you make the cookies?” Patrik asked, intrigued, while eating.
“No, it was the ghost!” I smiled slightly, making him smile back. “It must be a rare spirit, extremely agile.”
“Usually they are...” He smiled. “I see you've noted many things in the contract.”
He glanced at the paper I had placed on my lap.
“Yes, sir, it seems this contract was not drafted by you.” I kept my eyes steady on his.
“Why do you say that?” Patrik filled our cups, leaning back in his chair.
“I noticed several discrepancies, ones that benefit Forbs more than SoundStory.” I bit my lip subtly, seeing his eyes descend to the movement. I turned the hot cup to my mouth, immediately regretting it. “Ouch!”
Mr. Morgan was quickly in front of me, bringing the water bottle to my lips, making me drink suddenly. He caressed and traced around my lips, smiling.
“You are indeed clumsy.” He lowered himself, getting to the level of my mouth. The subtle gesture triggered several malicious images in my mind; he seemed to have noticed, as he lifted my chin and teased the tip of his tongue on my lower lips. “Better?”