The Boss' Bad Girl
“Callahan?”
“I need to see you for a moment, Grace,” he said, and there was a stern quality to his voice that made her heart pound in her chest. “Of course, Mr. Callahan,” she said cordially and rose to head towards his office. It wasn’t unusual to work late with him. She had no idea what might be wrong, but she wasn’t concerned. Her devotion to her job and to her employer was never in question. Entering his office, she moved towards the luxuriously upholstered chairs that faced his antique mahogany desk. It was not one of the delicate antiques that had graced her aunt’s home during her childhood, but a sturdy partner’s desk from a bank that had been intended to hold and support the weight of money before it was made of paper. “You wished to see me, sir?”
Anthony Callahan smiled and made a benign gesture to one of the chairs. “Yes, Grace. I have a few questions for you.”
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