Her anxiety immediately spiked. She knew Lucas was in and out of this building with Tina all the time. And if Tina had given Atlas the papers, Lucas might know where Romy was working for the day.

Romy still wasn’t sure about Tina’s involvement. But Lucas Cayne might not be working alone.

“I’ll be leaving my door open.”

She looked up. “Huh?”

Atlas watched her closely. “I said, my door will be open. You can keep your door open, too. I’ll hear if you call for me.”

I will hear if you scream. “Okay.”

He circled back around the desk, drawing near until he was close enough to reach out and brush a thumb across her cheek. “Will you call for me if anything is wrong?”

Would she call for Atlas if Lucas touched her again?

“Yes.” Romy doubted there would be a choice. Lucas had told her he was done with threats.

He twirled a piece of her white-blonde hair around his fingers. “Your hair has grown.”

A folder slid off the stack she held. Paper erupted across the floor. Atlas crouched down and studied one of the documents.

“It looks like you’ll be having an exciting day.” He snorted. “Just don’t sit me next to Mrs Stewart.”

“Who’s she?”

Atlas shuddered. “You don’t want to know.”

* * *

Hours later, Romy stared at the wall. It had to be midday, but there was no way she was going to lunch. How was it possible that seating arrangements were so hard? She certainly wouldn’t have thought it. But then she started on the pile—after reading Tina’s note.

Read these.

Put the names on the tables.

Don’t screw it up.

— Tina

Thomas Maloney had ruined Maurice Lawrence’s best shirt last year.

Sandra Gates had been engaged to Roger Downs, who then got married to Rita Sheppard.

How much drama can one settlement have?

Every time Romy arranged the names in a particular order, she would find a table that simply didn’t work.

She slumped in her chair and groaned dramatically.

“Hmm, that won’t do.”

Romy yelped and darted from her chair. She held a hand to her chest. “Houston, you scared me.”

Houston was studying the arrangement of names she had spread out on the floor. “Griffins don’t like Slats, and Stewarts don’t like Maloneys.”

Heart rate returning to normal, Romy found she actually appreciated his advice. She switched a few of the names and awaited approval.

“That would be nice, but the Maloneys don’t like Griffins.”

“Really?” she exploded. “Is there no way to keep everyone happy?”

Houston held his glasses in place. “Ah . . . probably not. But I would say that’s the point.”

Romy frowned. “What?”

“Toodles,” he called out. “Oh, and don’t sit me next to Tina.”