Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Two hours and three screaming matches with my entire management staff later, I exited the boardroom on the 20th floor of the Grand Regent, headed for the elevators. Only Elijah followed. Everyone else loitered behind, knowing full well I’d grill them about their subpar KPIs if they dared dishonor me with their presence.
Eli collected my laptop from my hand, exchanging it with my phone. “You have about a dozen unread messages from your neighborhood watch, a missed call from the Germany office, and a horde of low-priority emails I’ve redirected to my inbox.”
“Take the jet to Texas and check on the remodeling efforts. We will not have another dust incident like in Paris.”
Outside the local branch, Eli served as my voice piece for much of my work at The Grand Regent. Officially, he held the title of COO. Unofficially, Dad hired him as my executive assistant to serve as my face, so to speak. Except for DMV management staff and board members, no one knew that I’d essentially taken over for my father.
“On it.” He slammed the elevator button, scratching the back of his neck. “Also, there was an incident in the West Wing.”
My phone pinged with a message, interrupting us. I fished it out of my pocket and scowled at the screen.
Frankie Townsend: hiiii can you pick me up?
Ollie vB: It’s only been two hours. What happened?
Frankie Townsend: idk. i guess you have to “get accepted” to a job before you actually start working. can you believe it?
Ollie vB: Shockingly, I can.
Ollie vB: Did you really crash a movie set?
Side note – I really hated that Frankie was a Zoomer who refused to capitalize words because, in her warped universe, she perceived it as trying too hard.
Frankie Townsend: omg no. i knew the intimacy coordinator needed an assistant. she accepted rudy, my friend from college. i figured she needed an extra pair of hands. i was just trying to help.
I screwed my thumbs into my eye sockets, exhaling. The Grand Regent shared a contract with the studio, which included total privacy from guests and interlopers.
Ollie vB: I have somewhere I need to be.
Frankie Townsend: omfg are you not going to help a damsel in distress?
Ollie vB: You are no damsel, and I assure you the people around you are the ones in distress right now.
Frankie Townsend: my heart is broken.
Ollie vB: I’m sure it’s just the drugs wearing off. Quick, go sniff some pink coke.
Frankie Townsend: rude. this aura is real, and it is glorious. you could have had a taste if you wanted to.
Ollie vB: No, thank you. Who was your heart broken by? The rejection of the intimacy coordinator?
It was such a ridiculous title I couldn’t type it with a straight face.
Frankie Townsend: actually, she was cool enough to let me intern.
Ollie vB: Then why ARE you leaving again?
Frankie Townsend: …
Frankie Townsend: promise not to judge me.
Ollie vB: Do I look like I’m in a position to judge anyone?
Frankie Townsend: i may have set a teeny tiny controlled fire.
Frankie Townsend: before you make a big stink about it, it only consumed parts of the furniture and blackened half a wall.
Frankie Townsend: your seamless silk sheets are FINE.
Frankie Townsend: (they’re not white anymore, tho)
Ollie vB: I’m not coming to get you.
Frankie Townsend: oh, come on! first you turn down a date with me and now ur not gonna give me a ride home after i got fired from the internship i never got accepted to?
Ollie vB: Correct.
Frankie Townsend: if you dont come and get me right this moment, i swear i will never speak to you EVER again.
Ollie vB: Your terms are acceptable.
Chapter Eight
Oliver
In the end, I reigned in my inner asshole and took the elevator up to the 46th floor to fetch little miss trainwreck. No part of me felt particularly charitable this evening. Alas, my least flattering character trait reared its ugly head – my nagging, infuriating tendency to be the nurturer in every relationship I unwillingly stumbled into.
When Zach lost his heart and a good portion of his mind over his maid, I dragged him back to sanity, kicking and screaming, resulting in the most embarrassing grovel-slash-marriage proposal this continent had ever witnessed. When Romeo needed to distract Frankie because she dragged his then-heavily pregnant wife to international shopping sprees and bungee-jumping escapades, I gave Frankie my credit card, so she’d be out of their hair – and house.
My persona – the women, the money, the glam – was merely a Venetian jester mask, designed to subterfuge my one tragic, fatal flaw. I cared. Too much.
All. The. Fucking. Time.
If someone managed to burrow their way into my heart, they set roots in there.
The elevator doors glided open, and I came face-to-face with a thirty-something woman with hipster glasses, enough makeup to sculpt a two-year-old child in the 90th percentile, a clipboard, and a scowl.