Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 129427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
I spotted him as I came up the steps from the subway station across the street from the office. He stood beside his Maybach in the early morning light, smiling in a way I’d never seen before. He opened the rear passenger door, and I saw the reason for his kind expression.
A woman my age stepped out of the car. It was Emma; I had no doubt. My heart stuck in my chest. She was an earthy sort of pretty, her blonde hair falling in a messy bob below her newsboy cap, and she wore a distressed denim jacket that was just a little too big for her. She looked so cool and kind of like a rock star, and at the same time very much like someone’s daughter as she reached up for an easy hug from her father.
I felt like a voyeur. This was a part of Neil’s life he hadn’t invited me into. Even though I’d innocently witnessed the tender scene, I felt like I was intentionally snooping. I kept my head down and hoped he wouldn’t notice me as I crossed the street and charged up the wide steps.
I couldn’t help but overhear him ask, “You’ll call me when you land?”
I heard her reply, in an accent that almost matched her father’s, “Yes, of course. But I’m not flying the plane. You needn’t worry about me, I’ll be on Valium in the back.”
The rest of the conversation was left behind me when I slipped through the revolving glass door and into the building’s lobby. I gave my pass to the security guard at the desk and kept moving. It was while I stood, waiting for the elevator, that I became acutely aware of Neil’s scent, and his presence behind me. I had memorized his cologne without realizing it, had learned the pitch of his breathing.
My head reeled. Were these things I’d just picked up on in the last five days? If so, what the hell was wrong with me? Or were they something I’d clung to since that night six years ago, fine tuning in my subconscious this entire time? And if that were the case, what the hell was even more wrong with me?
“Good morning, Ms. Scaife,” he said evenly, and I turned my head. He was closer than I had expected him to be, and about to be closer when the doors opened and we stepped in to the elevator together.
“Morning,” I managed to return as we stood shoulder to shoulder with staff from Porteras and a few people from other businesses in the building. “Did you have a nice weekend?” he asked benignly, his gaze fixed on the numbers over the doors. We stopped once and three people got off, leaving four of us. Unfortunately, the other two were both from Porteras, and they were listening to every word of our conversation. Not because I was so fascinating. I wasn’t so egotistical to think their eavesdropping had anything to do with me. They were listening because Neil was their new boss, and they were trying to get a handle on his character.
Neil had to keep up his part, too, pretending not to notice them. Which is why I felt a sliver of pity for him when I responded with a chipper, “I did. I just lay in bed and read, all weekend long.”
I saw a faint flush creep just above his collar. I suppressed a smirk.
When we got to the office, Deja was waiting outside, holding a studded leather satchel in lieu of a briefcase. She beamed at us. “Reporting for duty.”
“Good morning, Ms. Williams,” Neil greeted her.
“You can call me Deja, I’m not too formal.” She shook his hand, and then mine, making a finger gun at me as she searched for my name. “Sophia, right?”
“Sophie. Very close.”
Inside, I took Neil’s coat before I hung up my own, and showed Deja which hanger to use. “I’m running late. Again.” I whispered to her. “I usually never am, but it’s been a hell of a week, with the takeover.”
“Big change from Auto Watch?” she asked.
I paused. I wasn’t sure what she was asking. “Excuse me?”
“You know, where you guys worked before the Porteras sale?” She seemed to get that I wasn’t getting it, and we both stood locked in a moment of confusion before a realization visibly hit her. “Didn’t you come here with Mr. Elwood? From his car magazine?”
“Oh!” I shook my head, relieved that our miscommunication was over. “No. No, I used to be Gabriella Winters’s assistant here. I’ve only been working for Neil for like five days.” I quickly amended, “Mr. Elwood. I mean.”
The morning got tied up showing Deja around the office, introducing her to people, running over how the phones and interoffice messenger system worked. As I went through my tasks for the day, I painstakingly explained the Porteras procedures to her. Not once did she stop me or tell me she knew what she was doing and didn’t need my help, which was a nice change from some of the people who’d served— briefly— as second assistant to Gabriella. Deja was serious about doing a good job, and she wasn’t interested in proving that she was better than me. I liked her more every minute.