Our Secret Devotion

Chapter Seventeen

I smiled. "It's okay. I don't think either of us expected we'd be doing this."

"Are you okay? You seem tense."

I shook my head. "I'm okay. I'm just adjusting to the increased workload that comes with being a Senior."

Anthony grinned. "Don't worry, it gets easier. I know you'll pick it up fast."

I smiled as I sat in one of the two seats. Anthony sat next to me, and I felt his leg brush against mine. It was unintentional, given the size of the room and table, but it messed with my mind.

He placed his computer on the desk and connected it to the projector in front of us.

"So, I've found this template on the intranet," he said as he scrolled through the slides. "It has prompts that will help us build the session."

"Awesome." I shifted closer to him, but I didn't do it on purpose. I needed to move so I could see the screen better.

Anthony didn't flinch. In fact, he almost relaxed.

We spent the next two hours researching the websites of political parties and news outlets to gather obscure policies. We had to find ones that related specifically to the industry.

I shifted my screen so that Anthony could see. "How about this one on the proposed excess profit tax?"

"Perfect. Add it to the list."

It was weird working with him like this. We'd never worked on the same engagements, and it was even more odd now that he was my manager.

Eventually, seven came around, and we were reminded of how late it was when my stomach growled with hunger.

"I think that's our cue," Anthony laughed.

I nodded. I hadn't worked overtime since March—when I'd committed to too many engagements.

For some reason though, I enjoyed this task. Anthony was one of the few people whose presence I enjoyed—craved.

His eyes were warm as he traced his gaze up and down my body. "Do you want to get empanadas? I heard the truck that sits near the highway on-ramp has amazing beef and olive ones."

Flutters disrupted my stomach and concealed all of the hunger bubbles I'd been feeling earlier.  I'd briefly mentioned one work lunch—before we made amends—how that was my favourite takeout joint in the city. It was a passing comment, and I didn't think he was actually listening.

"It's like you read my mind," I said, grinning. "Let's do it."

We pulled up to the old car park just after the half hour. I ordered my usual beef and olive empanadas, and after several persuasive arguments, I convinced Anthony to order them too.

"But I want to try the chicken ones," he begged.

"Okay, but the beef empanadas are to die for. Plus, you need the iron...you've been looking a bit pale recently."

Anthony gave in after that, not happy that I'd insulted his face. However, his unwillingness disappeared when he took his first bite.

We decided to take the dinner back to mine as it was closer. Sarah was out for the evening, and Anthony's house was too far away. We would've eaten them in the old parking lot, but the rain was threatening enough to send us home.

We sat across from each other at my small dining table. Anthony had demolished his three empanadas before I'd even started my second.

"And I thought I was the hungry one," I chuckled.