Her brows pinch together, but she nods and follows me past the bed—still made, with a dozen pillows on top, a tangible signal that this meeting is above board—and into the closet.
When I flick on the light and close the door, Zan leans against the far wall, gazing up at the bare bulb. “I’ve never been in a closet with the lights on. Back in my boarding school days, we’d sneak across the pond to the boys’ campus to play Seven Minutes in Heaven in the gym supply closet, but we always left the lights off.”
I’m tempted to tell her that if I took her to “heaven,” it would last a lot longer than seven minutes, but I remind myself to behave. “Same,” I say. “Though I wish we’d played with the lights on. I might have avoided being ambushed by the Bellaro twins.”
Zan arches a brow. “Sounds like something most men would enjoy.”
I cross my arms and lean back against the closed door, staying as far from her as possible in the small room. “Well, I wasn’t a man. I was sixteen and overwhelmed to find myself dealing with two mouths at once. And I confess I’ve always found identical twins rather…disturbing.”
Zan laughs that soft, husky laugh I could become addicted to summoning from her lips. “I don’t know whether to be offended on my sisters’ behalf or amused that you’re stuck sharing a castle with a pair of matching people for the rest of your life.”
“I could always move out,” I say with a shrug. “And you’re the one who told me they aren’t as similar as they seem. I’m sure I’ll eventually be able to tell them apart without getting close enough to check Sabrina’s eye for that little freckle. So—” I clap my hands and leave them clasped to motion her way. “To the point of our meeting. I can tell you aren’t keen on the idea of me as your boss, and honestly, I’m not thrilled about it, either.”
Her expression cools, but her voice is still unusually approachable as she assures me, “I’m a professional, Nick. Yes, I wanted the position, but I’m a team player. I trust Neville and Blaire to choose excellent people.” Her lips curve. “I’ve just been playing up the animosity between us to throw our siblings off the scent. If Sabrina and Lizzy think I hate you, they’ll never suspect that you’re secretly my spy boss.”
I nod, though I’m not buying the excuse.
Zan’s loathing the past few days has been extremely convincing, and I don’t think even she is that accomplished an actress. “That’s one method, I suppose. But wouldn’t it be better if we could find a way to keep our work lives more separate? To ensure our paths rarely cross there, leaving us free to enjoy each other’s company as friends and family when the occasion arises?”
Her eyes narrow, but hope flickers in those blue slivers.
She wants this as much as I do.
Hopefully, that means she’ll agree to go along with my plan, no matter how uncomfortable pretending to be madly in love might be for the both of us.
Chapter Four
Nickolas
I drop my voice to a confidential whisper and play my ace. “I have it on excellent authority that Pedro is stepping down in March, which will leave the southwest regional office in need of a director.”
Zan makes a considering sound. “But I don’t speak Albanian. Or Greek.”
Say what you will about Alexandra, but she certainly isn’t slow on the uptake.
“But you speak Romanian, French, English, Gallantian, and Rindish,” I counter. “Most people in the region speak English or French, and as fast as you learn new languages, you’ll be fluent in Greek and Albanian before the end of your first year in office.”
“Did you read my entire file?” she asks, a flash of that familiar irritation sparking in her gaze. “Or just the juicy parts?”
“There weren’t any juicy parts. You’re a highly accomplished agent with an unimpeachable reputation. Which is why I think you deserve to head a regional office of your own. And I know how to get you there…the one thing you can do to push your application to the top of the list the next time around.”
“What’s that?” She snorts. “Grow a penis?”
I smile. “I’m sure you could if you put your mind to it. You’re a very impressive woman. But no.”
“There’s only been one female regional director in agency history, Nick. Blaire, before she was promoted. The hardworking women of Union Ten are starting to wonder if she patched up the hole in the glass ceiling after she slipped through it.” Zan sniffs as she reaches out to slide an empty coat hanger closer to its brothers down the rod. “No offense, but there’s no logical reason you should have been chosen over me. I have more time with the agency, more leadership experience, and, as you mentioned, an excellent reputation.”
I arch a brow. “I thought you said you trusted Neville and Blaire’s judgment.”
She smiles sweetly but with a few too many teeth. “I said I trusted them to choose excellent people, not the most excellent person.”
“Humble,” I say with a chuckle.
“I am. I’m aware of my relative insignificance in the cosmic scheme of things,” she replies. “But I don’t see a reason to undercut my accomplishments because that’s what’s expected of me as a woman.” Her gaze rakes up and down my frame in a way that makes me feel both exposed and…interested in a way I shouldn’t be. “What about you? Do you honestly think you were the superior candidate? A man who’s never led a field office and who joined the organization three years after I did?”
I furrow my brow, feeling a tad defensive. “I think it’s clear I work well with others, put them at ease.”
“Being charming is wonderful in a social setting, but it doesn’t mean you’re prepared to motivate your team or make tough leadership decisions. In my experience, those who worry too much about being liked tend to make sacrifices when it comes to efficiency and productivity. Not to mention the safety of the people in their chain of command.”
“And in my experience, people don’t enjoy working for a tyrant,” I say. A voice in the back of my head, though, admits she might have a point. There’s no doubt I’ll be a more accommodating boss than Zan, but will I be a better one?
And it was rather entitled of me not to consider my relative lack of experience without someone prodding me to look in the mirror.
“I’m hardly a tyrant,” she counters. “But the last time I checked, our job wasn’t to create a fun work environment. We take down criminal enterprises and liberate victims of human trafficking. If you wanted office parties and casual Fridays, you should have chosen another field. Wedding planning, perhaps?” Her lips curve in a teasing grin. “You seemed to enjoy helping Lizzy with those stationery samples yesterday.”
I force a smile as playful as hers. “I do love a thick eggshell card stock with a nubby texture, don’t you?”
“I don’t have time for feelings about card stock.”
“Oh, come on. You were married. You must have at least dabbled in card stock feelings.”
“Nope. My ex and I eloped.”