Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 112701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“We have lots to discuss, so I’ll need your undivided attention. Hold all questions until the end. Is that clear?”
“Isn’t he absolutely spectacular?” Liz whispers to me.
My head lifts, eyes landing on the owner of the company. The elusive Charles Cavendish.
The room spins, and I feel a bit faint.
“Are you all right?” Liz murmurs, her hand landing on my leg.
I close my mouth as I realize it’s hanging open.
It’s him.
The man from the club—the handsome stranger from the coat closet.
A part of me expects him to react when he sees me, but his eyes merely trail over me without recognition. I narrow my eyes to make sure it’s him. But there’s no denying that the man in front of me is the same man from Silver. I’d seen him up close and personal. Had his tongue down my throat, hands all over my body.
All sorts of emotions begin to rage through me.
Excitement.
Nervousness.
Irritation.
He didn’t even recognize me.
I sit for the next fifteen minutes, listening to him speak. He’s been going on about shifts in management due to the upcoming news, and I frantically write down as much as I can.
I’m so distracted by his presence that I know I’ve missed half of what’s important.
Mr. Keller is going to be more than displeased with my first assignment, but I couldn’t care less at the moment. This turn of events is just too much.
The man at the front of the room is too much.
The Charles Cavendish is my sexy stranger.
My new boss.
What the hell are the odds?
The room erupts, pulling me from my internal wonderings.
My eyes glance around the room, taking in the excitement and trying to catch wind of what I missed.
Liz puts me out of my misery, leaning in. “He scored Diosa Clothier.”
My breath hitches.
This can’t be real. Sergio De Rosa is a legendary designer. The recent growth of his brand has been sparking rumors all over the web. Their digital campaigns have been failing for their athletic wear. This could be a huge turning point for them. Landing this account is next-level, and I’m going to be working on it.
This is a game changer.
A goofy smile spreads across my face as I digest how massive this news is. But it quickly falls when my eyes land on Charles. He’s staring right at me, eyes narrowed.
He does know exactly who I am, and he’s not happy to see me.
8
Raven
Mr. Keller looks over my notes, grunting in disapproval. We’re back at my desk, and I’m trying to get Mr. Keller to go away so I can focus on the HR web training, but he’s bound and determined to make me as uncomfortable as he can manage.
“I can’t read this chicken scratch,” he bemoans, throwing the paper onto the desk in a huff.
I chew on my bottom lip, trying my hardest to remain positive. “I’ll type them out for you,” I offer, hoping to appease him.
I’ve already decided that I don’t like Mr. Keller, but I’m going to force him to like me if it’s the last thing I do. Even if it’s useless. I’m not working for him much longer.
I inhale, basking in the knowledge that soon I’ll be working directly with De Rosa. The ideas are already percolating, and I’m so excited to brainstorm with the team. Whoever that consists of.
The heady feeling is washed away, thinking back on that unpleasant stare down by Charles Cavendish.
My nerves are shot.
It was awful. I’d lowered my eyes quickly when I realized he wasn’t going to look away first and kept on writing with a smile plastered across my face.
What could he possibly have been thinking? I tortured myself with that question for the remainder of the meeting.
He clearly put together who I am and was likely as caught off guard by my presence as I was his.
Luckily for him, I’m a professional, and a little kiss in a dark closet, fueled by booze and tiredness, will not impact my work ethic. I’ll kick ass in this job, and that one little slipup at Silver will be long forgotten.
It has to.
It’s day one, and I can’t mess up this opportunity.
“Helloooo. Earth to Miss Bennett,” Keller hisses.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?” I pop my head up to look at his round, ruddy face.
“I said, make sure that you do.” He stalks from the room.
My body deflates, and I sink back into the chair, wondering how long I’ll have to put up with this man.
Sighing, I fire up the next web training module and hit play. This particular video focuses on proper work etiquette.
It’s common-sense material—or should be—so my mind wanders to things it has no business wandering to.
Strong jaw, straight nose, cheekbones chiseled from stone, muscles flexing under my touch, tongue caressing mine . . . memories permanently etched into my mind.
Charles Cavendish.
Lucky for me, my stomach chooses that moment to growl, and for once, I appreciate the distraction.