It was damned impertinent anyway. Leaving things for her.
She wasn’t even remotely curious.
The USB stick stared at her. Elena glared at it.
She would put it out of her mind. Maybe tomorrow, when she was less busy. Or the next day.
Fifteen minutes later, Elena flung down her pen and shoved the stick into a USB slot. She dug out her earbuds, plugged them in, and stole a glance back to Madeleine’s desk.
Still on the phone. Excellent.
She hit Play.
Four minutes later, she closed the music video and stared at her screen. Removing the USB drive, she considered throwing it across the room in frustration. Why did Madeleine persist in being without category?
It was like that Aliens of New York blog of hers. She flicked to the tab she had opened earlier in the day. The wonders of smiling now? Elena was well aware of what had prompted the blog. This was her fault. She was somehow encouraging Madeleine. She didn’t mean to. Forming a friendship with an employee was a terrible idea. She knew that. But some part of her was unwilling to play hardball and enforce the divide. And now she really needed to know—how could one person be so curious, so contradictory? How did she defy every box and label?
“Well?”
Elena’s head snapped up to find Madeleine only a few feet from her. She stabbed her browser window closed. “Well what?” She gave her a steely look, hoping her shock at almost being caught wasn’t showing.
“What’d you think of Veruca and Trinix?”
Elena slid the USB stick across the desk towards Madeleine with some haste. “Those can’t be real names.”
“Probably not.” She ignored the flash drive.
“So. Latvian folk singers,” Elena said evenly. “In the middle of a forest, with dancing nymphs.”
“Yup.”
“Dancing lesbian nymphs.”
“That’d be my guess. Although it was a bit hard to tell with all the rising mist.”
“It sounded like Kate Bush on LSD.”
Madeleine tilted her head. “Fair. I’ll pay that. And I like Kate Bush too.”
“As do I.” Elena studied her. “How on earth did you find them?”
Plopping into the visitor’s chair, Madeleine gave a shrug. “A friend recced it in a comment on a blog I…um, follow. So does this mean you liked them?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” A blooping noise sounded, and Elena turned. Her Skype call. Damn. She wasn’t ready for the man.
“We’re done,” she muttered to Madeleine, disturbed at how easily she’d allowed herself to be distracted. It was unprofessional. She did not do unprofessional.
There was no movement, and she glanced back. Madeleine was eyeing her with a guarded look.
“We’re done,” Elena repeated, wondering why she hadn’t heard her the first time.
Madeleine flinched. She left, movements jerky, closing the door behind her with a sharp clunk. Since Elena rarely closed her office door, it was a pointed act.
She frowned at the response. Elena was still frowning when she activated her incoming video call. “Nathaniel, good evening.”
He offered the usual pleasantries, but Elena’s gaze slid back to the crime desk. Its reporter was hunched over, shoulders tight. Surely she wasn’t offended? It was hardly the first time Elena had dismissed someone in such a manner. It meant nothing.
Or was it the dismissal itself, not the manner which bothered the woman?
Elena’s frown deepened. Yet another reason why this…friendship was a foolish idea. She was Madeleine’s boss. Madeleine must surely grasp that now.
So why do I feel so unsettled?
A throat cleared.
Elena forced her focus back to where it belonged. “Nathaniel, where were we on our deal?”
* * *
Three nights passed, and neither of them spoke to each other. Which suited Elena fine. She accomplished much more work without Madeleine’s chatter about things that held no importance. And the distance helped reinforce that they were never meant to have been friendly in the first place.
On the fourth night, Elena wore one of her favoured outfits to work, which involved a vest, pants, boots, crisp white shirt, and a fob watch. And that night she noticed Madeleine’s reaction to it.
Actually, it would be a miracle if Madeleine got any work done, because she’d spent most of the evening watching Elena. Her gaze virtually clung to her, yet she seemed unaware she was doing this. Belatedly, Elena recalled this was the outfit she’d been wearing when Madeleine had derided her the day they’d first met. It occurred to her the intense scrutiny might therefore not be the flattering kind.
As she exited her office, she felt the woman’s eyes fixed on her again.
“What?” she asked, irritation rising. She stopped dead in front of Madeleine. “Does my wardrobe really offend you so much that you have to bore holes in it all evening?”
