He finished buttoning his new, fresh shirt and wrapped his tie around his neck. Without a mirror, he seemed to be struggling a bit.
“Here, let me help,” I said as I reached up and began tying it. “I used to help my dad all the time before he’d go to work. He said it was always better when someone else did it.”
I cringed at the mention of my father. My mother had divorced my father, married Preston’s dad in a fit an irrational midlife crisis, and then left Preston’s dad and reconnected with my father. It was a weird year or two, and a time in my life my mother refused to discuss anymore.
Standing mere inches from him, the scent of his white pepper and sandalwood cologne filled my lungs, and the faint sensation of his warm breath brushed the top of my head. I wondered if anyone had ever been this close to him before. He seemed almost uncomfortable.
He cleared his throat before taking a step back and double-checking the knot with his hands.
“It’s straight,” I said with a laugh. “I promise.”
I reached for his dirty shirt and tie. “I’ll get this dry cleaned.”
“No need,” he said. “Give it to Ruthie. She’ll handle it.”
We headed out to the hallway, my cheeks still slightly warm from embarrassment, and went to our respective offices. My little excitement high from that morning was fading away thanks to making a huge fool of myself in front of him.
EIGHT
PRESTON
“We have an eleven o’clock conference call with the Johnston account,” I said to Mirabelle as I leaned in her doorway an hour after the coffee incident.
Her head popped up and away from her computer screen. “Oh, I had no idea.”
“That’s…why I’m telling you now,” I said to her. Damn she looked good that morning. Curve-hugging tan pants with a peach blouse and dainty gold necklace with an single diamond pendant that fell right between her generous breasts. “Come into my office in an hour. We’ll prep for it. This one’s all you.”
I stepped away reveling in the fact that Mirabelle was being baptized by fire. This was going to be her chance to really show me that she could take the ball and run with it. I loved testing my employees, and in a way, it made them better for it.
The sound of rustling papers and computer clicks told me she was frantically preparing, and knowing Mirabelle, she was not going to disappoint.
An hour later, she rapped lightly on my door before letting herself in. She had a lot of nerve just walking in all the time like that, but I chalked it up to her naivety. Even Sapphire never had the audacity to just barge in like that. Mirabelle was reminding me of a bratty little sister I had once upon a time, only this time she was a sexy, young woman.
Mirabelle took a seat across from me with a stack of handouts. “Here’s your copy of my marketing plan. I really think it’s going to work. I think it’s going to blow them away and have them signing on the dotted line by this afternoon.”
“You’re that sure, are you?” I asked as my eyes scanned the papers. For someone so young, she had the presentation of a seasoned executive.
“Positive,” she said. “Let me know if you have any questions.”
My eyes scanned the papers once more, looking for something, anything. A flaw that I could point out and tear her apart for, but I found nothing. Her plan was, quite simply, flawless. It was better than anything I could’ve come up with on my own.
“This’ll do,” I sighed. I didn’t want her knowing she’d blown me away quite yet. “For now.”
“Oh,” she replied, her eyes dropping to her papers in disappointment.
“Johnston account’s on line one, Mr. Woodfield,” Ruthie’s voice came through on the loudspeaker.
“Ready?” I asked as I studied Mirabelle’s face. She seemed only slightly nervous, and for an intern, that was damn impressive.
“Ross, Brenda, Steve,” I said with a charming smile in my voice. “How are you doing today?”
“We’ve been better,” a man’s voice said on the other end. “What do you have for us? We don’t have a lot of time, so make it quick.”
“I’ve got my newest exec, Mirabelle, here,” I said. I hoped that by calling her an exec, it wouldn’t go to her head, but I’d be damned if the Johnston account knew my most talented employee was a twenty-three year old intern.
“Hi,” Mirabelle drawled sweetly. “How’re you doing today?”
“Good,” they said in unison. “What do you have for us, Mirabelle?”
“Okay, so did you get the documents I emailed you earlier?” she asked. I had no idea she’d done that. She was already way ahead me of me. I sank back in my chair, impressed, and let Mirabelle take the reins.
“Let’s start with the social media aspect,” she said. “I’d like to start up a Facebook page and a Twitter account. We can link them together so we can send our messages from one and they’ll automatically go to the other, which will cut back on upkeep drastically. Second, we’ll get some banners and branded pieces to flood the pages with picture-wise. People always click on pictures, and your banners and headers will be the first thing they see. They need to be attention-grabbing, and I have some ideas for fonts…”
I tuned out the rest of it. I didn’t need to hear it. She had it all down pat. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she was presenting like the star employee I knew she could be.
I sat back and crossed my fingers across my lips as I listened to her cute little southern drawl and watched as her eyes lit up.
NINE
MIRABELLE
“So that’s what I have for you,” I said as I leaned into the speakerphone on Mr. Woodfield’s desk.
“Well,” Brenda said on the other end. “I think Ross and Steve and I have some talking to do, but I will go ahead and say that I’m very impressed, Ms. Baker. Preston, we’ll be in touch.”
Preston’s twitchy fingers pressed the button and ended the call, and his eyes were wild with excitement. My heart raced as I waited for his feedback. Blowing him away would’ve meant worlds more to me than impressing the Johnston account.
He stood up and walked around his desk, stopping in front of me and perching himself on the edge.
“That was…” he began as he searched for the right words. “Extraordinary.”
A smile burst across my face. There was no hiding it. “Thank you.”
“For a beginner like you, that was some intermediate work,” he said. “I’m very impressed, Mirabelle.”
The way my name slipped off his tongue, like silk, made my heart race. For a split second, my mind wandered to a naughty place. It wasn’t intentional. It just happened. I knew Preston didn’t doll out compliments very often, and that only made me desire to please him in every which way I could.
Snap out of it, Mirabelle!
“That said,” he continued, his arms now crossed over his chest. “I think you can do better. Yes. In fact, do better. Next time we reconvene, I want you to bring a little more to the table.”
“More?” My eyes scrunched in confusion. “Can you please elaborate?”
He sighed, seemingly annoyed with me, and said, “You’re giving me ninety-five percent, Mirabelle. I want two hundred percent.”
That cloud I had been floating on seconds earlier suddenly evaporated and dropped me from the sky. How could he say I was extraordinary one minute and then tell me I need to do better the next? My lip trembled, but I fought it back. I didn’t want him to see me shaken. I didn’t want to be lumped in a category with all other interns who couldn’t handle him.
I’d slaved for hours over that project. For days on end, it was all I thought about. I went to bed thinking about it. I woke up thinking about it. I poured every ounce of creativity and know-how into it. I didn’t know how I could possibly do any better than I’d already done.
“With all due respect, Preston,” I said as I stood up. I opened my mouth to finish my sentence, but the look on his face stopped me. The way his eye lit up when he was so proud
of me seconds ago was incomparable. I wanted to see that look in his eyes again, and I decided then and there to do whatever it took.
“Yes?” he asked, his eyebrows raised.
“Never mind,” I said. I stood up to leave, grabbing my notebook from his desk, and strutted out of his office.
“Close the door behind you,” he called out.
***
“Monica?” I said as I peered into her doorway. I had to get off the sixth floor. I needed a change of scenery, and I needed to talk to someone other than Preston and Ruthie.
“Oh, hey, there stranger,” she said distractedly. She looked up at me quickly then returned her stare to her computer screen as she feverishly typed an email. “How’s life on the top treating you these days?”
I laughed. “It’s…alright.”
“Does Mr. Woodfield know you’ve unshackled yourself from your desk?” she asked playfully. She sent her email and turned her chair towards me, motioning for me to have a seat across from her. Though I’d only known her a day or so, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in that place.
“Who knows,” I said with an eye roll. “That’s sort of why I wanted to come talk to you. I was hoping you could give me a little insight on him.”
Monica leaned back in her chair, a mischievous grin forming across her red lips. She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, revealing a hidden streak of gray in the process.
“He’s so hard to read,” I sighed. “I want to make him happy. I want to show him that I’m not an idiot intern, but it’s like nothing I ever do is good enough for him. I worked my ass off for the Johnston account, and he seemed pleased. Very pleased. Then he told me I could do better.”
Monica laughed as if I was some naïve little girl. “Oh, sweetie. Sweetie, sweetie, sweetie.”
“What?”
“If you could figure out what makes Mr. Woodfield tick, you’d have the whole world eating out of the palm of your hand,” she said. “No one can figure that man out. Wait, I take it back, there was one woman who did.”
“Who’s that?”
“Sapphire Hart,” Monica said as she stared off towards the wall behind me. For a second she appeared lost in thought.
“I think I’m in her old office,” I said.
“Right next to Mr. Woodfield?” she replied. “That’d be it.”
“What happened to Sapphire? Why’d she leave?” I asked. I leaned forward, waiting to hear all about it.
“She got too close,” Monica said, her lips pursed in sympathy. “She had it all. Moved up the ladder quickly. Great title. Awesome bonuses. She was on top of the world. And then she got too close to him. He made life a living hell for her and she left. At least that’s the rumor. They were dating and things went sour. They couldn’t work together after that.”
“Just like that?” I asked. I leaned back in my seat. “There had to be more to it than that.”
Monica shook her head as she clicked the shiny silver pen in her hand. “Nah. That’s pretty much it. Don’t ever blur those boundaries, Mirabelle.”
“Blur what boundaries?”
“The ones between professional life and personal life,” she said. “I’ve seen entire careers destroyed because of that.”
“Oh,” I said with a laugh. “You don’t have to worry about that with me. I’m not like that. I’m here for one thing and one thing only.”
Monica smiled the sort of bittersweet, apologetic smile my mother would’ve given me if she was there. “That’s exactly what Sapphire said too. You remind me so much of her.”
TEN
PRESTON
“Working late again, Mirabelle?” I stood in her doorway as the late afternoon sun illuminated the space around her. She glanced up at me, fatigued eyes and all, and nodded. Perhaps I’d been too hard on her that morning, but I didn’t care. It was for the best. I was the artist and she was my medium. I was going to make her into something great, and someday she’d look back and remember the man who made her all of her dreams possible.
I stepped away and headed towards the lounge, coming back with two mugs of steaming, fresh coffee. Ruthie always knew to put on a fresh pot before she left for the day. While everyone else rushed to get out of the office by five, I was just beginning my second leg of work for the day.
“Oh,” Mirabelle said as I reentered her office and sat a mug in front of her. “Thank you.”
She wrapped her soft palms around the warm mug and lifted it to her full, pillowed lips for a sip. I knew I’d been an ass to her earlier that day. The least I could do was bring her a little something to drink since she was staying late.
Her desk was covered in notes; some written in red, some in blue, some in green. Some notes were hi-lited in yellow and some in pink. Post-Its stuck all over her computer screen. The garbage can next to her desk was filled with crumpled papers, probably ideas she deemed not good enough to present to me.
No woman since Sapphire Hart had ever worked so hard to please me before, and quite frankly, it turned me on. My mind wandered as I could only imagine how desperate she’d be to please me behind closed doors. She still looked at me like a little girl with a crush, though I doubt she even realized it.
I turned and headed back to my office and shut the door. Not since Sapphire, had I had to share the office with anyone after hours. I checked my email, personal and work, and checked my stocks for the day. My portfolio had grown four percent from the day before.
An email popped down in the corner of my screen. It was from Mirabelle.
Preston,
I didn’t want to bother you since you’re technically off the clock and your door is shut, but I have some questions for you when you get a chance.
Mirabelle
My fingers tapped the keyboard as I fired back a response.
Mirabelle,
I’m never “off the clock”. You forget that I own the place? If you need something, come in my office. You’ve never hesitated to barge in here before.
Mr. Woodfield
I hovered over the send button for a few second, half-debating whether or not I’d been too harsh, before sending it. I sat back in my seat and waited for her to enter, and within seconds, the door slowly swung open.
“Yes, Mirabelle,” I said, annoyed that she was being so apprehensive around me. Where was the take-charge girl I’d caught a glimpse of that morning? The one who was so sure of herself? The one who owned her intelligence? Oh, yeah, I’d destroyed her with one sentence.
She stepped towards my desk, her tan slacks hugging every curve of her thighs, and stopped just short of one of the leather chairs.
“I’ve been doing some thinking,” she said. She wouldn’t look at me. “I’ve been racking my brain all day. I talked to some other employees here. I talked to a couple interns.”
“You consulted with other interns?” I balked.
“I really feel that the marketing plan I presented this morning, the one I’ve been working on all week, is the best one,” she said. Her gaze turned up to meet mine as I stood from my desk. She had a lot of nerve telling her boss she wasn’t going to do what he’d asked. “Do you mind if we just wait to hear back from them before I try to revamp this thing?”
She bit her lip, perhaps a nervous twitch of hers since childhood, and waited for my response. Never in my five years of owning the firm had an intern dictated to me what they would and wouldn’t do.
I studied her face as I forced her to wait for my response. I didn’t want her thinking I was giving in too easily. That wasn’t my style, and I rarely made exceptions. While I forced the long pause, my eyes took in every curve and amble of her body. The way her jacket cinched in at just the right part of her waist and the way her pants hugged her hips and thighs were enough to make me want to throw her on the table right then and there.
“That’s fine,” I replied, adding a little extra annoyance to my tone. “Just this once, Mirabelle. Going forward, you are to do as I tell you to do. You understa
nd that?”
A relieved smile crossed her lips. “Yes.”
As relief washed over her, her body relaxed a little and her face lit up the way it usually did when she was in her element. I of all people knew what deadlines did to a person’s creativity. I should’ve known better than to stifle her creative juices so abruptly.
In the dimness of my office, with the sunset casting a warm glow on us and Mirabelle standing there so full of passion and fire and eagerness to please, I couldn’t help myself any longer. Maybe I was a damn, weak fool for thinking I should do it, but something in me had to have her.
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