Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
The way they’re running their business now is barely sustainable. It hasn’t been moving in the right direction for years.
I lean forward to pat his knee. “Give me until noon.”
He glances at the screen of his phone. “Fine. You need to text me at noon with an update. If you haven’t made any headway, we’ll offer more money.”
That won’t happen. I’m as sure of that as I am of my name.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Evie
I have no idea what happened while I was in Paris, but I may have to jet off on another mini-vacation soon.
Apparently, after being forced to get his own coffee when I was out of town, my boss made the executive decision to do that every day.
When he told me that, I was tempted to do a cartwheel, but since I’m wearing a dress with lace underwear beneath it, I opted to skip the celebratory gymnastics and instead enjoyed the overpriced coffee meant for my boss.
I had to run to the break room to grab a packet of sugar because it was a little too bitter for my taste, but after pouring that in and giving it a quick stir, I savored every last drop while Mr. Hunt met with Baden. When that was over, he took off out of the office like an arrow headed straight for a target.
I have no idea who or what that target is because my boss’s calendar for today is blank.
In addition, he never sent me the usual email last night that details my tasks for the day.
My Tuesday is turning out to be a snoozefest, and I can’t say it’s a bad thing since I’m jetlagged.
“Miss Starling,” Mr. Hunt barks my name from somewhere behind me.
He must have taken the stairs to get up to this floor because I’ve gotten up from my chair to look down the corridor every time I’ve heard the elevator signal its arrival.
I glide to my feet, skimming a hand over the skirt of my dress. “Yes, sir?”
“Within the next fifteen minutes, the legal department will forward me a copy of the contract for the Bogners to sign.”
Good for you, sir.
I’m tempted to spit that out, but I smile. “All right.”
He glances at me as he passes my desk. “Print it and courier it to them immediately. They’ll be dining at Nova for lunch between noon and two. I told them I’d get it to them then.”
“I can do one better,” I offer because I sense the idea I’m about to share will hit him in three, two, one…
“Take the contract to them,” he suggests. “You can grab yourself some lunch on the way back to the office. I heard someone say the hotdog cart on the corner is decent.”
I can’t tell if he’s joking, so I err on the side of caution and grin at him.
“Their lawyer will be with them,” he tells me. “They invited her to lunch, so hang around until the contract is signed.”
I can only hope that it takes the next few days so I can sail into the weekend without having to fetch him a new pair of socks or more tea.
“Will do, sir.” I round my desk to sit back down.
I expect him to continue the path he’s on straight into his office, but he stalls before he reaches the open doorway. “About what Baden said earlier…”
Dammit. He’s going to tell me I can’t have any more days off. I wanted at least one more so I could lend Lottie a hand the day before her wedding, but she might be on her own.
“Yes, Mr. Hunt?” I say without any emotion in my tone.
I won’t let him ruin my stellar mood. I’m still flying high from the trip. Getting over Paris won’t be easy, so I plan on keeping all the memories of my time in France at the forefront of my mind for as long as possible.
“The next time you require a day or two off, ask me.”
I push my luck because if you don’t take a shot, you’ll never know where it will land. “You’ll approve it, sir?”
He locks eyes with me. “I will.”
I’m tempted to ask him to repeat that so I can record it on my phone, but I put my trust in his word and smile. “Thank you. I’ll need another day in a few weeks, but I don’t foresee any additional time off after that.”
He takes a step closer to my desk. The woodsy scent of his cologne floats in the air. It’s so intoxicating that I’ve often wondered what it is so I can buy a bottle of it for my next boyfriend.
Mr. Hunt may be an absolute jerk, but he always smells divine.
“You and your friend are planning on taking another trip?” he asks.
Since we met, this has to be the first time he’s asked me a personal question. I stare at him, but before I can reply, his phone starts ringing.