“What? Oh no. It’s not him. I mean,” I continued to stammer over my words as she gazed down at me, “I talk to myself all the time.”

Lame.

So lame.

“I mean, not all the time. Just occasionally. When I need a little encouragement.”

There was a slight pause before I caught the corner of her mouth turning upward.

“I do, too. We all need a little extra encouragement while working here, don’t we?”

“Um, I guess so.”

“I’m Lauren Drake. I’m an exec over in accounting. I’ve been holed up in a conference room on a project the last few days. Otherwise, I would have come sooner to introduce myself. Bethany and I were good friends, and I promised I’d take care of her replacement for her,” she explained.

“Oh,” I said with genuine surprise, figuring that was how she’d managed to get into the secret Batcave, unannounced. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. It’s really quite selfish. I take care of you, you take care of him,” she said, gesturing to the closed door behind us, “and we all live much happier lives.”

“He’s really that bad?” I asked, leaning closer, as my voice dropped to a whisper.

Lauren didn’t seem to care if she was overheard, but I certainly did.

“Have you had coffee today?” she asked rather than answering my question.

“Yes,” I answered, looking down at my half-empty cup from my breakfast run.

She picked it up, swirled around the contents, and shook her head.

“That isn’t nearly enough caffeine to handle what I have to tell you about Roman Cavenaugh. Come on,” she said, motioning for me to get up, “let’s go take a walk and get you a proper cup of coffee.”

Looking around at my desk and back to the closed door, I shrugged.

I guessed if I couldn’t get to know my boss in person, the next best option was the company gossip.

My mom would never approve.

“There are two of them?” I said, dumbfounded, as I stood, hunched over Lauren’s phone.

We were huddled together in the break room not too far from my desk—a place I hadn’t even known existed until today.

“Yep.” She nodded slowly, never taking her eyes off the screen. “That is some damn good DNA, let me tell you.”

I looked down at the picture she’d pulled up from an article dated back a few years ago when the Cavenaugh brothers had been photographed leaving their father’s funeral together. Roman’s eyes were steely, almost void of emotion, as if he’d already mentally checked out for the day. The other brother, Jude, looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. Dark lines rimmed the outline of his tired gaze as his shoulders slumped forward. He almost appeared too tired to carry on.