by Lia Lee
That she was asking boded well for him. He had her. She would say yes.
Chapter Three
Hazel’s stomach had been doing flips all morning. She’d managed to drink some hot water with lemon when she’d gotten up, but that had been it until she got a coconut milk latte from the campus café. Instead of drinking it, she found herself carrying it with her from class to the library for her work-study hours until she was on her way to Cartwright’s class with a stone-cold coffee and a growling stomach.
A little lightheaded, she pulled out one of the crunchy granola bars that she always carried with her. It was almost ridiculous for her to be so nervous. Why get worked up when you’re about to tell someone what they want to hear? Regardless, Hazel knew that until she was able to talk to Cartwright face-to-face, she would have a hard time focusing on anything. She could barely remember anything from her Poli-Sci Race and Gender class that morning. After nibbling on her granola bar, Hazel drew in deep breaths and took little sips of her coffee. It might as well have been iced, now, but she hated to waste money.
Bit by bit, students began to show up. Ellis and Gina sat next to one another on the floor, since Hazel was already on the bench. She could tell that they would rather be safely out of conversation range with her. No one seemed to think that the problem in their class was Chris. Everyone seemed to think that his behavior was no big deal and that she was the troublemaker for responding to it. What she couldn’t discern was whether this meant fourteen potential entrepreneurs were going out into the workplace who would just let the Chris’ of the world turn their businesses into toxic cesspools out of some kind of social etiquette not to call out that behavior, or whether they actually thought his ideas were good.
The class in the lecture hall let out, and students streamed past her peers waiting in the hallway. Gina looked over at Hazel for a moment before getting up and slipping past the other students to go take a seat. Ellis would sit with Gina. The others would cluster nearby. Hazel would sit on the edge of the group, and Chris would make sure that he sat near her. So he could be absolutely sure that she could hear his hilarious jokes.
Ugh.
Instead of going in to get a seat in the front, Hazel got out her phone and tried to look busy. She waited until there was only a minute left before class to get up and collect her things.
“Oh.” Hazel was startled when she saw Dr. Cartwright right there at the doorway.
“Are you coming in?” He sounded a bit amused.
“Sorry. I got caught up—”
“No problem. You’re not too late. Yet.” Cartwright gestured towards himself and smiled.
Hazel skirted past him, feeling his presence so close to her, and, after eyeballing the layout of students, selected a seat behind Gina. Just as Cartwright began calling the class to order, Chris slid in.
“I know the old adage ‘Time is Money’ may be a bit passé for your generation,” Cartwright drawled as he leaned back against the desk. “Especially when I do a video conference call at least once a day. But people still expect you not to waste their time.”
“Uh, the bus was running late,” Chris said.
Cartwright motioned toward a seat right next to him. “Just sit. We have a lot of material to cover.”
Hazel adjusted her tablet on the desk and readied herself to take notes.
“It’s come to my attention that there’s been a problem with appropriate behavior lately,” Cartwright said.
Half of the eyes in the room went to Chris; the other half turned to Hazel.
“A young man who is giving out suggestions and making jokes that are creating a hostile environment.” Dr. Cartwright plugged a jump drive into a computer, and a PowerPoint popped up. “The precipitating event also occurred in one of my original offices in England, around Sussex, but I thought given our discussions of workplace communication, we’d talk about some cases that I’ve had to address during my time. The first few, I can give you more concrete answers. I handled these toward the beginnings of my business, and so I can tell you quite clearly how you’d deal with the problems one-on-one. Later cases, which occurred after my business expanded, I did not always have the luxury of handling myself.”
Cartwright clicked the screen, and the demographic breakdown for the office in Sussex appeared on the screen. “I’ll open the floor later in the session for suggestions on how to redirect behavior and mediate problems.”
Hazel sucked in her lower lip, and strangely, felt her shoulders going loose. Cartwright couldn’t have come up with this on the fly, just because. He’d always given them readings when he wanted to address something specific like this. And at the end of the last class, he had made it seem that they would be discussing the HR texts he’d given them.
No, this little lecture was based on Hazel’s complaint about Chris. Cartwright had heard her and listened. And not only had he decided to correct the matter, but he’d also come up with an entire lesson and activity for them to engage with because he’d decided workplace dynamics merited the time for a real discussion. Even better, anyone could tell that Chris knew this lesson was in part related to his comments in class because his ears were blazing red.
Feeling lighter than she had all week, Hazel took a big swig of her coffee and started rapidly taking notes and jotting down her questions about each scenario in the comments. It was one of the best classes she’d had with Cartwright since the semester had begun.
***
After Cartwright had dismissed the students, Hazel lingered, putting her tablet away slowly. While it had been gratifying to hear Cartwright support her, the discussion that class had been lively and a lot more helpful than she might have imagined. Despite his clout, Hazel hadn’t always thought that much of his business prowess. He was smart, yes, but much of what they discussed seemed like she could’ve gotten similar advice from the other professors. Besides, she would never be starting a business like his. Hazel would be running nonprofit startups and organizing grassroots action. Maximizing profits wasn’t exactly on the top of her priorities.
It really hadn’t occurred to her that through his posturing and charisma, Ian Cartwright had a great deal of practical experience.
“Well, Hazel?”
Hazel felt her cheeks growing warm. Even as she looked up, intending to tell him yes to his proposal, her heart was in her throat. “G-good class today,” she managed.
“I thought so. Timely.” Cartwright paused and crossed his arms. “I’m glad you appreciated the lesson.”
“I did.” Hazel brushed a hand over her hair and suddenly wished she hadn’t pulled her hair into pigtails that morning. She felt like such a kid. “Um, the case in London was particularly informative.”
“Yes, that one was tricky.”
Hazel bit her lip and hitched her bag on her shoulder.
“Was that all?”
“No.” Hazel drew in a deep breath. “About your offer…”
Dr. Cartwright raised his brows and tilted his head to the side. “You’ve decided against it?”
“No! Oh, no, I was going to say that I’d like to do it.”
Cartwright chuckled. “You seemed so anxious. I thought that didn’t bode well for me.”
“No, I just. That’s just… me.” Hazel shrugged. “I want to work with you as your assistant, and I actually love to do research, so that’s not a problem at all.”
“Oh, so there is a problem.”
Hazel squeezed the strap of her messenger bag. “Okay. Look. I know it’s customary not to give credit to research assistants or assistants in general, but I think the practice is less than ethical. I do want to work with you but, if I do, I’d like to make sure I get some degree of credit for my work, and I would want a letter of recommendation for graduate school.”
Cartwright seemed taken aback. “You want to be a co-author?”
“I-I no. Of course not.” Hazel shifted her weight. “I was thinking at least an acknowledgment at the beginning of the book. Maybe, if an
y articles appeared in business magazines prior to publication, I could be a co-writer.”
Cartwright put his hands on his hips and frowned. “I’ll have to think about that. I don’t tend to sit down and actually write the books.”
“You don’t?”
“Obviously, I’m too busy for that kind of thing. I make my observations and hand them over to a ghostwriter.” Cartwright rubbed his fingers over his lips thoughtfully. “Though, you are a good writer. Even if your prose is a bit dense for mass-market publication. We might be able to work out an arrangement, wherein you help with the research, we’ll discuss your findings, and I give you the notes that I would have given to my ghostwriter. In that case, I certainly would consider putting your name on the cover.”
“Oh!” Hazel gave a little hop, then cringed as he laughed. “That’s much more than I had hoped.”
“As for the letter… Honestly, graduate school is a waste of your time. You should just go into the market and get work experience.”
“That’s what my internships have been for, right? And I can write down that I’ve been your assistant,” Hazel replied. “You really don’t believe in graduate school for business?”
“Not for nonprofits, I don’t. Or social work. Or feminism, or whatever you intended to major in.” Cartwright rolled his eyes.
Hazel huffed. “I think that’s my business—what I choose to study. These jobs are work worth doing. There’s already so much wrong with the world. How can you live in it if you don’t try as hard as you can to make things better?”
“Fine.” Cartwright held his hands up. “I’ll write you a recommendation for wherever you’d like. Just don’t lecture me anymore today. I’m far too tired.”
“Sorry.” Hazel averted her gaze.
“Don’t be.” Cartwright raked his eyes over her. “It’s cute how intense you are. It can be hard to convince people your age to care.”
“I’ve always been like this,” Hazel admitted. She tossed her empty coffee cup in the trash. “I made my parents get a recycle bin. I had to make my own dinners in high school when I became a vegan because my mother didn’t want to make a separate meal. I went to a protest for the first time at twelve.”
Cartwright laughed again. “You certainly are full of energy. But you’re going to have to focus somehow. You can’t save the whole world.”
“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try at all.” Hazel shrugged. “I feel like that’s where a lot of my peers are. They’re just overwhelmed by all the problems, so they end up doing nothing. I won’t give up just because I can’t do everything.”
Cartwright licked his lips, looking ever so amused. “I have a feeling you’re going to keep me on my toes, Miss Greenwood.”
“Sounds fun!”
Cartwright nodded and patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll have HR send the relevant paperwork to you. You can start Monday.” He started to leave, then paused at the door. “I hope it goes without saying that I’ll expect appropriate business attire.”
“Right…” Hazel looked down at herself. Maybe the jean short overalls with the black cat patterned shirt had been a mistake. She must look like a toddler today. “I’ll be there at eight.”
“I await our first day working together with baited breath,” Cartwright teased.
Hazel folded her arms over herself. Why hadn’t she thought to dress better today? She never put that much effort into outfits for class, but she could have at least tried to look like an adult. It was a little grating—knowing that she was younger than most of her peers. She’d skipped first grade and so, even with her double major, she had only just turned twenty-one. No matter what, she would have to step up her game for this internship. A lot was riding on her performance here, and Dr. Cartwright had been very generous, but if she didn’t live up to his expectations, then there probably would be no book, no letter, and definitely some professional embarrassment.
But she had the weekend. She would use it to look beyond the tabloid story of Ian Cartwright and prepare to show her professor all she was really capable of.
Chapter Four
In spite of everything, Ian half expected Hazel to appear at the office wearing some flowy sundress and black boots. Or a romper with daisies on it, paired with socks that had cats on them. Nothing he’d seen from Hazel so far had prepared him for the moment his secretary Vicki had brought Hazel to him wearing a tailored suit with impeccable black pants and a blazer. The blouse underneath strained slightly against the buttons over her breasts, but the overall look was the least nonsense Ian had ever seen her in. He would have been less surprised to see a young aspiring CEO walking, thusly dressed, into his office.
“Miss Greenwood here to see you, sir,” Vicki said as she opened the door, echoing her announcement from a few minutes prior—when she’d asked him what to do with the new intern who said she was here to meet him.
Ian’s eyes drifted to the few stray curls at Hazel’s neck that had escaped from the clean bun she’d pinned her hair into. “Thank you, Vicki. Hazel, if you would like to have a seat?”
He gestured in front of him, expecting her usual nervous fumbling, but Hazel approached his desk calmly and took her seat without any stammering or sweating.
“Good morning, Dr. Cartwright. I dropped my HR packet off with Helen. She said that she’d let me know if there were any other signatures she needed. So I should be ready to go,” Hazel said in an even, bright voice.
“Indeed. What do you think of our office here?” Ian asked.
Hazel looked around, arching a brow like it hadn’t occurred to her that the walls were there, and shrugged. “It’s a very comfortable space, for a corporation. More windows than I would have guessed.”
“Exactly.” Ian bobbed his head. “The construction of the building does as much to create your work atmosphere as any initiative you put into effect.”
“True. Unfortunately, literal beggars can’t be choosers. In some nonprofits, we’ll take what we can get.” Hazel smiled. “Are you the one who chooses what the building will look like?”
“Hm.” Ian shook his head. “No, I delegate that. However, I do give directions down the line regarding what I expect from each branch of my business.”
Hazel nodded. She reached into her bag and took out a notepad. “What’s first for today? Do you just want me to shadow you? Do you want me to get on the research? Or do you have something else you want me to get on?”
Ian’s lips curled, though there was no way that she associated her words the way he had. He recalled his fantasies wherein she would shed her clothing and ride on his throbbing erection like her life depended on it. Or she would fall back against his desk, letting him squeeze her plump breasts underneath that prim dress shirt…
“Sir?”
“Right. Well, I have meetings starting at nine, so why don’t you shadow me for the morning, and then we’ll sit together for lunch and discuss where I want you to start with your research?”
“Sounds good. Would you like some coffee while you prepare for the meeting?” Hazel offered.
“You’re not here to get me coffee, Hazel,” Ian replied, a bit amused.
“Well, I could use some, and I thought it would be polite to share.” Hazel rose and smiled at him impishly.
Ian leaned back in his chair and folded his hands. He quite liked this side of her. Confident, coy… maybe even a bit playful.
“I’ll take it black, then. Vicki will show you where it is.”
Hazel winked and pointed her left hand like a gun as she walked out the door. Ian couldn’t help but laugh. She was so unlike any of the other women in his life. Sure, his female colleagues have that spirit of strength, and some of the women he took home had that vulnerability, but few were so different from moment to moment. Her nervous schoolgirl routine had been delightful, but the way she could change on a dime made her ever so much more intriguing.
Hazel was a mystery, a tangle of complications, his to unravel. And now that she worked
for him, he would have the time, and the access, to do so.
***
After each meeting, Ian found himself bombarded with Hazel’s salient questions about practically every facet of the meeting. He’d never heard her talk so much. It was a stark contrast to the meetings themselves, during which she had been silent, and the classroom, during which many of her comments were made from indignation rather than a spirit of inquiry.
Hazel had definitely decided that she was going to suck the marrow from this opportunity.
“Okay, okay.” Ian held up a hand as they entered his office. “Let’s put this on hold for now? I had lunch delivered.”
“Oh, thank you,” she said halfheartedly.
It only took him a moment to intuit, as she was eyeing the food laid out at the seating area to the far side of the office, beyond his desk and the conference table, that she suspected he would have ordered nothing she could actually eat. He felt a bit smug knowing that he’d exceeded her expectations.
“Have a seat.” Ian set his tablet on his desk and went over to take a seat on a plush, stark white chair. The coffee table was surrounded by them, a cozy respite in their Spartan surroundings.
Tentatively, Hazel came to sit on the loveseat opposite of the seat he’d chosen.
“I’m glad you’re such a go-getter. I wasn’t sure how you’d do in a real work environment.”
“I’ve had jobs since I was twelve.” Hazel shrugged and reached for a drink.
“Twelve?” Ian looked at the stacked salads and set one in front of her.
“Babysitting. I started with my little brothers and branched out to the neighborhood kids.” Hazel inspected the Brussel sprout salad with cranberries and pecans, and her brows rose as she realized that there was no meat tainting her food. “Maybe I could consider dealing with Hawk as practice for toddlers.”
Ian speared his salad. He’d ordered his with grilled steak and hoped she wasn’t the kind of vegan to lecture others. “One of your brothers is named Hawk?”