His Secret Obsession
I asked.
Shelly closed the magazine. “You definitely hate rich people.”
“I don’t hate them.”
“Then what did Nicholas Contini do to offend you personally?”
My heart stumbled, but Shelly was smiling. She had meant it as a joke.
“Nothing,” I replied, turning back toward my computer. “Men like him simply don’t interest me.”
It was the biggest lie I had told since arriving in Seattle.
Before Shelly could question me again, our department director stepped out of his office and clapped his hands to gain everyone’s attention.
“Conference room in ten minutes,” Mr. Hart announced. “Ethan Hale is arriving early, and I want the entire presentation team ready.”