I Need to Get Over You (Over You Series Book 1)
Page 5
“She’s good, isn’t she?” I agree, the smile I direct at Elijah far more for the sake of my success than politeness. “And as I said, this is just the beginning. I know where I’m going with AutoVS, Elijah.”
“I know. And I think the board sees that after today.” Elijah shakes my hand and leaves.
Brooke finishes tidying up and heads for the open door. “Wait,” I call, resisting the urge to lean against the table or cross my arms.
“Yes?” She turns back, inquisitiveness lacing her doe-like brown eyes beneath long lashes.
“I have a few things I’d like to discuss with you, but we’ve both had a long day. Can you meet me tomorrow at Dean’s Jumpin’ Beans? It’s a little coffee shop that’s somehow never busy,” I clarify.
She regards me warily, and a list of things I would give to know her thoughts run through my own mind. “I thought I have Saturdays and Sundays off, correct?”
“Yes, but this really can’t wait until Monday and I need to leave the office. I like to hold meetings outside of the office sometimes, but if it makes you uncomfortable, we can meet here instead.” My heart doesn’t expect the tiny prick of disappointment her words leave.
“No, coffee is fine. I just had plans tomorrow,” she admits. “I can meet you first, though. 11:30?”
Caught off guard when she does exactly what I was about to do and suggest the time, I change tack smoothly. “Perfect. 11:30 it is.”
“Tomorrow at 11:30, Mr. Nicholson.” Brooke sends a dazzling smile my way, then the room is left strangely empty in her absence.
Mr. Nicholson. Somehow, one day soon, I’m going to find out how the name Hayden sounds falling from Brooke’s perfect lips.
Chapter Seven: Brooke
“We’ll have to brew a fresh pot of coffee, ma’am. Should be about fifteen minutes. We can give you a large instead of a medium if you’d like to wait.”
“I’ll wait, but a medium is fine,” I tell the petite blonde woman behind the counter. “I’m not in a hurry.”
“One medium Americano, then.” She looks up from the machine behind the counter expectantly. I insert the chip on my card, wait for the beep of confirmation, and head to a window seat to wait.
Truth be told, I’m not all that keen to head home. Compiling that PowerPoint caused me more stress than Hayden will ever know, and then he asked me to attend the board meeting on top of that? Maybe immediately throwing new employees into the thick of things without any guidance amuses him.
Ordinarily, after a workday this long and teeth-grinding, the calm pale blue walls of my bedroom and quiet relaxation call me to return to them. But today….
What’s with Dad today? Of course, since he’s part of the board of directors, I saw him today at the meeting. In between handing Hayden documents, all I did was stand out of the way of the screen and stay quiet. I haven’t held this job long, but I’m sure that for such simple tasks I did perfectly fine.
So why did he sit there and stare daggers at me the entire time? No one else would have noticed, but I know what the subtle eyebrow movements mean. So far, I’ve done exactly as he asked. I got the administrative assistant job, I’m excelling at my job to get close to Hayden, and soon I should be in a position to get useful information on him.
I have no idea what I’ve done wrong, so I am in no way eager to head home and find that out through the lecture I know awaits me.
Fifteen minutes, an hour—in fact, if the coffee takes until I need to meet Hayden tomorrow to brew, I think I’ll be okay with that.
“Brooke?” a crisp voice calls.
“That’s me,” I reply, stepping forward to receive my steaming beverage and groaning inwardly. “That was fast.”
“We’d already started brewing a new pot before you ordered some,” the man explains, briefly leaning his elbows on the counter.
“Well, thanks.” How stupid will it look if I go back and order something else for no reason? Like a bagel with cream cheese, maybe, or a fruit cup.
“No problem. Have a great day!”
Too late, already having a shitty day. “You too!” Sometimes I have to remind myself that the employees at various shops around the city aren’t to blame for my problems.
The coffee scalds my tongue as I take a sip, but the therapeutic deliciousness of the liquid is worth brief discomfort, so I take another.
This coffee is great. The coffee I’ll get tomorrow when I meet Hayden… well, I have a feeling that won’t taste so good.
The self-driving AutoVS car rolls to a stop at the curb and opens the door closest to me. “Why can’t your CEO be gentlemanly like you?” I ask the car.
“Unrecognized command. Please repeat your destination or enter the address manually.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I turn up the air condition as I type the address of my apartment building into the display.
“Thank you. You will arrive in 14 minutes.”
Theoretically, I could walk home from this coffee shop. In reality, anyone who thinks they can walk 1.3 miles in stilettos probably hasn’t worn them before.
Besides, woven into the complicatedness and reasoning behind this new job of mine, I’ve discovered at least one perk. Rides in AutoVS taxis are free for employees, so biking in the smothering heat of the city streets is a thing of the past.
Does that make up for the mentally draining little detail of having Hayden as my boss? Nope.
I don’t mind hard work. I really, really don’t. I find that when tasks that require my full attention fill most of my day, it’s that much easier to relax and enjoy myself when I have some time to myself.
But would it kill that man to say, I don’t know, “thank you”? I just don’t understand how someone who is supposed to have a great mind for business can be so clueless when it comes to simple courtesy.
Why are the hot ones always assholes?
The car pulls up to our building and I jump out before it can play its customary “goodbye, give us your money again” message. Time to stop stalling and find out what I did to put out Daddy Dearest.
“Hey Dad,” I greet him, kicking off my heels the instant my feet leave the range of the door’s swing.
“Hey. You’re pretty late today, aren’t you?”
Yep, he’s mad about something. He closed his laptop right when he heard me come in, which means he wants to talk. “I guess. I had some finishing up to do at the office and I stopped for coffee. Why, what’s up?” Innocence sweetens my voice as I pour myself a glass of water.
Leaning back in his business suit, Dad laces his fingers behind his head and turns toward me slowly and with purpose. The light from the overhead fan shines off the gray streaks in his brown hair. “How are things going with Hayden? Get anything useful yet?”
“No. You can’t expect me to work for three days and just find something that destroys him, Dad,” I point out, seating myself on the armchair.
“I know. I just need to get something soon. I know you need to work hard to gain his trust, but Hayden was clearly using you to better the board’s opinion of him today.” The floor creaks as Dad stands up and paces behind the sofa. “I can’t lose my allies on the board, and every day that passes shifts their support back toward Hayden.”
Hard work has repressed my misgivings about this entire arrangement so far, but I finally voice the thoughts that have been bouncing around my skull since I got the job. “Dad, is this really a good idea? I know being CEO of a company like AutoVS is your dream, but this is just so… underhand. Cheaty. Lie...lie….” The high grades I made in presentations betray me. “Lie-ish,” I finish lamely.
Dad sits down on the sofa, leans forward onto his knees, and meets my eyes. “I truly believe that I will be a better CEO to AutoVS than Hayden. This isn’t just for the money, and I hope that’s not what you think about me.”
“I know,” I say quietly, instantly apologetic at the genuine hurt I see in his brown eyes. “I just don’t like this. Even if it is to help NYAR.”
; “Brooke, you’ve seen what Hayden’s like. He might have a good sense when it comes to employing the right people, but to leave him at the helm of the company? It’s insane. He’ll say one wrong thing at an interview or a press conference, and every single news outlet will be all over AutoVS in seconds.”
That, I believe. As an employee, I can say that the facilities at AutoVS HQ are perfectly adequate. My office has a view and the furnishings and equipment in it clearly cost the company a fair sum. The other employees always greet me courteously and working between departments lacks the drama I’ve seen at some companies.
The only problem is Hayden. I enjoy working for AutoVS. I hate working for Hayden.
“Yeah, I know.” My own reluctance surprises me. “It’s just… I don’t know.”
“It’ll be fine. Just do whatever you can to get that information, and I’ll handle the rest. He’ll never even know you were the one who brought the info to the board. Besides, if he is doing something that could hurt the company, don’t you think the board and the shareholders should know?”
“Of course.” Just, why does it have to be me?
Sad puppies and kittens. That’s why.
Dad stands up and grabs his keys off the counter. “I’m heading out to meet with a friend.”
I nod and start back to my room to change.
“Hey, Brookie.” The old nickname wrests a smile from me, and Dad smiles too. “Thank you.”
“You got it, Dad.”
* * *
After an hour and a half of lazing about after my 9:00 AM alarm goes off, I’m finally ready. My mind has, at last, navigated the long, arduous path of convincing my body to get up, throw some grounds in a filter to brew some coffee, and have a nice, lazy morning.
My phone goes off again as I exit the bathroom, toweling my face dry. Confused, I rustle through the labyrinth formed by the folds on my blanket until I find the device.
11:30 AM, Coffee—Dean’s Jumpin’ Beans.
Coffee. Hayden conversation. Meet. 11:30. 30 minutes.
The towels drops, totally forgotten, to the hardwood floors that I nearly wipe out on as I spring to my closet and grab the first outfit I can lay my hands on.
How I managed it, I’ll never know, but 15 minutes later, I’m ensconced in an AutoVS car with a powder brush in hand, combatting the irregular movement of the vehicle and the need for haste as I put on makeup.
Damn Hayden. Damn Hayden and his handsome, symmetrical face to whatever hell awaits all businessmen who think they can just order their assistants to meet them on their days off.
My wedges nearly slip off my feet as I fly out of the car, stuffing my emergency makeup bag into my purse, and half jog toward the door of a coffee shop with a very, very smiley, happy bag of coffee beans stickered in the window.
I stop. I take a breath. I fan out my hair behind me and press the stray ends back into their waves. I adjust my purse over one shoulder. I check that my clothes lie flat and correctly against my body.
Only when I’m satisfied with my appearance do I finally step through the door precisely at 11:30, looking as fresh as though I’d just been standing outside and chatting until it was time to come in.
The coffee shop is small, uncrowded, and distinctly lacking in Fortune 500 CEOs.
He’s not here. I flew out of my apartment like the place is haunted, and he’s not. Even. Here.
Bringing Hayden down will be an absolutely joy and I will have no further regrets.
The fifteen minutes that pass between my arrival and Hayden’s suffice to cool my anger, so when he finally sits down opposite me, I’m able to say, “Good morning, Mr. Nicholson,” and not sound like I’m doing the chubby bunny challenge with lemons.
“Good morning. Let me grab a coffee, then we can get to business.”
I stand with him. “I need to order too. I thought it might be impolite if I didn’t wait.” I don’t sound passive aggressive, but boy oh boy do I mean the word “wait” to be taken that way.
“That’s fine.”
I can’t win. We go to stand in line at the counter. Hayden peruses the menu, but I already know I just want a medium, regular coffee. Bored, my eyes stray from the different caffeinated options to the back of the man in front of me.
Does Hayden own anything to wear aside from expensive suits? Every time I see him, he’s wearing several hundred dollars of… I don’t know, wool shorn from the backs of magical, colored sheep? Today, his suit is light gray, and unsurprisingly, not a single, tiny, out-of-place thread detracts from the outfit.
We get out coffees, sit down, and talk business. Hayden asks questions and I answer them professionally and politely, wishing the entire time that I could ask a question of my own: why couldn’t we do this at the office?
“What are your professional goals, Brooke?” Hayden asks suddenly.
Caught off guard, I hesitate. The question had to do with business, but Hayden asked it so familiarly, without the usual commanding, CEO tone. “Well, I’m not sure,” I say truthfully. “I suppose I want to find a company where I feel impactful and enjoy working.”
Hayden’s stormy eyes, so often filled with impatience or intensity, gaze at me with something I haven’t experienced from him before: interest. He surveys me over the rim of his cup. “That’s interesting. I never could focus on working for someone else’s brainchild, not even back in college.”
I can’t imagine Hayden as a college kid at all. What was he like? The kind to go get drunk in the evenings and stumble into class the next day, hungover? Or maybe he avoided parties and spent all his time studying? “Group projects weren’t always easy for me,” I offer, hopefully before Hayden wonders why I’m staring at his face without speaking.
Maybe, just maybe, this is my chance to finally get something useful out of Hayden. A little tidbit from his past could become the weapon my father needs to prove his unsuitability.
The light shines off the smooth-shaven line of his jaw and his chair creaks as he shifts. “I didn’t mind them. As long as I could call the shots.”
I already know Hayden likes to be in control. That has become abundantly clear. “Did you have the idea for AutoVS in college?”
“Vees was my friend Brett’s idea. AutoVS was my idea after Vees was a success.”
Hayden’s voice tightens. Am I getting close to sensitive information? “Is Brett still with AutoVS?”
“No,” Hayden says shortly. “He’s dead.”
Oh. Shit. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—”
“It’s fine. It was a long time ago.”
Change the subject, Brooke. Bringing up bad memories? Big no-no in Operation Get-to-Know-Hayden. “Do you come here often?” I ask. I’d have to check the recesses of my brain for a stupider question, but I’m sure Hayden will recognize this one for what it is—a clear change of subject, sort of a continued apology on my part.
“A few times a week. Sometimes I feel like caffeine is the true inspiration behind all businesses.”
The volume of my clear, genuine laugh turns a couple heads. “Sorry,” I apologize, lowering my voice. “I absolutely agree with that.” I really hope the rush of heat against my cheeks just blew in from the door that just opened to admit a harried-looking woman. His comment hadn’t even been particularly funny. I just never heard Hayden make any sort of joke before, I guess.
My phone vibrates loudly in my purse. “Excuse me for a moment, please.” Hayden nods and leans back as I walk away to answer. “What?”
“Where are you? Thought you were coming in today and tomorrow,” Sam’s voice reprimands me. “We have a lot to get ready today and the fresh meat doesn’t know where anything is or goes. Also, Thomas has been asking if you’re coming today,” she adds suggestively.
I snort. “Don’t let Ashley hear you call new volunteers fresh meat. I’m coming, okay? Got hung up with work stuff. It’ll just be like 45 minutes. And you know that Thomas is basically another puppy and not boyfriend material, right?”
“Which corner?” floats from somewhere in the background of the call.
“Get your booty over here ASAP.” The line goes silent after an indignant snort at my laughter.
“I really need to leave,” I tell Hayden when I’ve made it back to the table. “I enjoyed our conversation, and it was nice to meet out of the office, Mr. Nicholson,” I lie. I learned nothing about Hayden from this meeting. How do I cross that line and bring the conversation from business and business-related things to personal things?
“I do too. See you at work, Brooke.” Hayden brushes past me on his way out of the shop.
I stand still briefly, seething over the fact that I excused myself first and he had the gall to just walk past me—and still without a thank you.
When I finally arrive at NYAR, Sam accosts me immediately. “Finally. If your new job is taking up this much of your time, I hope you at least like it.”
“I like the company just fine. It would better off with a different CEO, though,” I joke, smiling inwardly as I follow Sam into the back rooms.
Soon. Soon, the joke won’t be a joke anymore.
Chapter Eight: Hayden
The doorbell dings. In other words, a beautiful, lengthy chime echoes through my penthouse.
I shake my head as I walk to the door. I’m expecting this, just not this soon. Apparently, I’ll just have to answer the door with damp, unruly hair and sweatpants.
The moment the door clicks open, a high-pitched, childish voice screams, “Uncle Hayden!”
I have just enough time to drop to one knee and receive my eight-year-old niece's charge with a hug. “Oof,” I huff as the wind is knocked out of my lungs. “One day you’re going to get so big you’ll run me over,” I laugh, correcting my balance.