Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
It’s probably best if I let that go, though.
He lingers in the doorway while I take a call. After I transfer it, he asks, “Do you mind sitting in on my meeting this morning?”
“Is there something, in particular, you want me to do during the meeting?”
Acting unlike himself, he comes all the way into the reception area and leans on the counter like we’re going to have a little chitchat. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about commitment.”
I’m not sure where he’s going with this, but I’ll give him time to get there. He continues, “There aren’t a lot of roles in the company, but we could start having you try them out. I heard you sat in with Nick recently when Barbara was out. Mary has a dental appointment this morning, so I wanted to ask you first.”
“I’ll help however I can. If that’s where you need me, I’ll be there.”
“I think,” he says, cautiously, lowering his voice. “I want you to stay if that’s something you want as well.”
Kissing is out of the question, and so is hugging. Touching of any kind would be inappropriate in the office, but damn, does he make it hard to resist him. “I appreciate that, but you don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine financially.”
“I’m not worried about your finances. I’m worried about losing you.”
The heat hits my cheeks like a spark to a match. “You’re—”
The elevator doors slide open, and he’s quick to move away from the desk, from me. Rousing hellos fill the area when three men step into the reception area. I watch as he greets who I assume are the Everest brothers, shifting right back into CEO Andrew. His posture tenses, his handshake firm from the veins in his forearms bulging.
All four men stand around sharing stories of a recent night out. I’d rather listen, but the phone keeps ringing, only allowing me to catch bits and parts.
Margie . . .
. . .Flirting with you.
You’re a single man . . .
. . .You should get out more.
I guess they’re more than clients, but also friends since they seem to know him so well. I’m a professional and can temper my jealousy, but it’s tough with them still going on about it. Through the laughter, I catch Drew’s eyes on me. There’s nothing he can say to make this situation better. We have roles to play, after all.
As they shift toward the door, he gestures to me and makes the introduction. “This is Ms. Jacobs. Ethan, Hutton, and Bennett Everest.” With that simple deed, I feel seen again.
I stand to shake each of their hands and then offer to show them to the conference room.
So much money is verbally tossed about and not one of them bats an eye, not even Drew. This is his element, the arena where he performs his best. He’s handling billions of dollars in their portfolios, and they’re letting him. I find myself smiling, so impressed listening to him win their trust.
I don’t know if I have a right to be, but pride swells inside just watching him. He’s a masterful dealmaker, and his knowledge in his field is so sexy.
The meeting ends when lunch begins. More handshakes are exchanged, deals being sealed, and talk of contracts being sent over.
If I didn’t adore Ice Cream Drew so much, CEO Andrew would give him a run for the money after that performance.
The men are escorted to the elevators. Drew stays until the doors close. Turning toward me, he says, “Will you stay?”
“I don’t know,” seems to be all I can say. “Answering phones isn’t my dream job, but as much as I enjoy being by your side during a deal, I guess I never saw myself as an assistant either.”
“Stockbroker? HR? Accounting? A financial advisor?”
“That you’re thinking about me, I’m so touched, but I need to give this some thought.”
Laurie comes through the door, staring down at a box in her hands. “Juni, you received a package from—oh, Andrew. Sorry, I didn’t see you there. May I help you with something?”
“No.” Scratching the back of his neck, he says, “I’m good. Thank you.”
Satisfied, she turns to me and sets a box on the counter. Agent Provocateur is printed across the box. When she glances at him again, he legs it out of there, “Excuse me.” I restrain my grin.
She waits until he’s out of earshot and even peeks to make sure the coast is clear before she taps the box with her nails. “I know you’re not responsible for what is sent to the office, but receiving this type of gift—”
“What type is that?” I know the brand of expensive lingerie and own several sets, but I think it’s good for her to be specific, if not entertaining.
“Sexy lingerie. It’s not appropriate to have at the office. I didn’t read the card, but I had to sign for it since you were in a meeting. Please ask your admirer to refrain from sending these types of gifts. Thank you.”