by Ellie Rowe
The elevator arrives at the lobby. The doors open.
“After you, my liege….” Kevin gestures, bowing like a jester. I playfully punch him in the arm as I pass.
“Douche,” I mutter, striding out to the waiting car.
Thirty-Five
Monica
I squeeze out of the subway and take my first unencumbered breath since the doors closed on my platform.
Christ, I hope I don’t smell like all of the people I was just squished next to. I’m not saying I haven’t had a bad day, especially in my youth. But I swear I have always managed deodorant.
Someday, I’ll have my own goddamn car to pick me up. That’s the dream, isn’t it? I could ask that it be perfumed before I get in!
I need to focus on the meeting first, though. Gotta keep my eyes on the prize.
I enter the building and once again pinch myself that I’m actually working here. I check in at the front and bring out my ID badge.
I’m still pretty new so only a few of the security guards recognize me. One day I hope to be such a regular that I don’t have to deal with the stop and frisk every time I try to get in the elevator.
Speaking of, I hear the ding and rush to make it in time. The door is just starting to close and I catch sight of two men inside. They both have dark brown hair but the door’s closing too fast to see the taller one.
“Hold the elevator!” I call and rush to meet it.
I watch the shorter one with the brown eyes see me, register me, and click the button. He clicked the button to close it faster.
“Hey!” I shout and make it to the elevator just as the doors snap shut. The last thing I see is that brown eyed little shit smirking.
The other one was just reaching over but it was too late. I know it’s a petty thing, but it steams me up. I’ve worked hard to fucking be here, same as whoever that little prick was.
God, how do people even know I’m new here? There must be hundreds of people walking in and out of here every day. Do I have some sort of ‘new kid’ pheromone? Or maybe it’s that delightful New York subway smell that says ‘you’re not one of us’.
It’s not like I’m unused to assholes. I’m surrounded by them in the real estate business. But I’ve made it! Or I’m supposed to have. I’m on the same level as anyone else here. So why do I feel like I’m still fighting for my spot at the table?
I turn around and rush to the other side to hit the button. The elevator comes quickly, thank goodness, and soon I’m on my way. I can’t help but stew about that jerk.
Whatever, I say checking myself in the mirrored glass, I’ll probably never see those assholes again.
Feeling a little better at the thought, I skip out of the elevator and head for the board room.
The email said room 213. It’s the big board room. Fancy. Though I’d expect nothing less for Mr. Breckenridge himself.
Once again, I wonder what on earth we’ve been called in for. I know he had some complications with his health earlier this year. Or it could have something to do with a new client? Maybe it’s a surprise party to introduce me to the rest of the team!
Fat chance.
The door is cracked open and I can hear voices. It certainly doesn’t sound like a party. I take a deep breath before swinging the door open. I freeze in the doorway. Two men turn to stare at me.
The assholes from the elevator! I’m so shocked and pissed, I can’t speak.
“Uh…you lost, sweetheart?” the shorter one asks, nudging the other guy.
What? Apparently, I’m still a mute. I stare at them, my fury building.
“This is board room 213...” he says, his voice mock-helpful.
“I know that,” I finally manage. What was that about ‘you only get one first impression’ again?
“Okay…do you need something?” he asks me, sitting back in his office chair. I take a deep breath to refrain from chucking my briefcase at his throat.
“Sorry about him,” the taller one says and my eyes snap to him. He has the same dark brown hair as the elevator asshole, but his eyes are bright blue. Wow. He’s gorgeous, and his smile is dazzling.
He reaches for my hand, oozing with charm.
“Kent Breckenridge. It’s a pleasure.” He pauses, but apparently, I don’t feel it necessary to introduce myself. “Sorry about my brother, we try not to let him out of the attic too often, but sometimes he breaks loose.”
He laughs at his joke and Kevin fumes. I don’t laugh, I just stare like an idiot.
“It’s no shame to get lost, this is a pretty big building, huh?” Kent smiles. “You must be looking for reception. I heard we were hiring a new secretary, but I had no idea they found someone so attractive.”
Ew.
Well, sort of ew.
It’s not a terrible thing to be hit on by a handsome man, but he thinks I’m the receptionist. His hand is still in mine, and I quickly finish an awkward and overly firm handshake, before staring him furiously in the eyes.
“I’m not—”
“See, she’s not the secretary. She’s the intern,” Kevin pipes up, solving the mystery. “We haven’t had any coffee yet. Do you mind grabbing a couple, sweetheart? I like mine with cream, Kent likes his black because he hates himself.”
Kent shoots his brother a look.
“Oh that’s right,” Kevin rolls his eyes, “it’s not because he hates himself, it’s because he’s watching his figure.”
I hate to admit it, but I’m watching his figure too. He’s extremely well built, something his expensive suit can’t begin to hide. I clear my throat to try again.
“I’m not the receptionist, and I’m not an intern.”
“Oh?” Kent looks at me, surprised.
“No,” I say firmly, finally composing myself. “I’m—”
The door swings open, and Mr. Breckenridge enters. The men snap to attention, Kevin nearly falling out of his chair to stand up straight.
“Morning,” Mr. Breckenridge says, giving the men a hard stare.
“Good morning, father.” Kent smiles.
Holy shit! I take a step back.
The elevator assholes are Mr. Breckenridge’s sons! Of fucking course! How did I not see it before? They have the same thick brown hair and strong jawlines. They’re even built like him.
“Ah, I see I was a little late for introductions.” Mr. Breckenridge smiles at me and extends his hand. I take it, glad to finally have a friend. He’s the only person in this room I’ve actually seen before or had a conversation with.
“No, actually you’re right on time.” Kent laughs, “We were just trying to place our little friend here. We were hoping she was the new receptionist.”
“This little friend,” Mr. Breckenridge says darkly, “is not a receptionist. This is Monica Vale. My new hire and the best damn real estate agent I’ve ever seen. Present company included.”
* * *
To keep reading more, please check out
* * *
Guide to Bossing A Billionaire
Also by Ellie Rowe
Mom RomCom:
Route 69
After School Special
Hell’s Bells
* * *
Standalones:
The Jerk Who Saved Me
The Billionaire and the Babe
* * *
Skyscrapers and Stilettos Shared World:
The Billionaire’s Bun In Her Oven
Guide to Bossing A Billionaire
Manhattan Cowboy
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