“Are you sure this guy is one of the CEO’s of Bishop Corp? Could you actually be dating some crafty meathead imposter?” Sam whipped out her phone and began tapping it with her thumbs.
“I may be gullible, but I’m not sure how you can fake a private jet.”
Her eyes riveted to the screen. “Wow. I know you said Jordan was hot. But this guy is smokin. He’s like Hugh Jackman—if he played in the NFL.” She began fanning herself with her hand.
“See him in person. Every inch is like masculinity personified.” I scoffed at how my words were not exaggeration.
“Mmhmm.” Sam hadn’t taken her gaze off her phone. I doubted she heard me; she was too busy ogling Jordan’s picture, which didn’t ease my concerns about him being with other women. Suddenly she lifted her head. “Wait, what happened after you caught them?”
I frowned. “Got the hell out of there. Jordan ended up chasing me to the beach, where I told him that we should just be friends.”
Sam nodded slowly. “I think that’s good.”
“Good?” I repeated. “Aren’t you going to tell me to get my butt back with the billionaire?”
“He’s a catch for sure, in fact, probably catch of the century. But from what you told me, it sounds like he still might have feelings for Vanessa, whose movies by the way we’re so not watching anymore. You don’t want to be with someone who makes you worry.”
“He did say he wouldn’t see other women until I told him I didn’t have feelings for him.”
She leaned forward, giving me her undivided attention. “Do you believe him?”
“Yes...No. I don’t know. We’ve known each other for less than a week.”
Sam sighed and reached over the table for my hand. “In my humble opinion, Lori, you’re doing the right thing. You’re starting a new stressful job with bosses that have questionable behaviors. You caught Jordan doing the same thing Eric did. With all you have going on, I’m surprised you haven’t had a meltdown. The last thing you need is to get your heart broken again. Imagine if you caught him doing that a few months from now. It’d be devastating.” She squeezed my hand tighter. “You’re a strong girl. It takes guts to do what you did.”
“Thanks, Sam,” I said, squeezing back, aware that I had left the puking part out of the story.
Sam softened her tone. “Lori, I know we’ve had this discussion before, but maybe you should start thinking about your career goals. Boys can be distractions.”
We talked about this a week ago when I had dismissed her ambitions as being “not for me”, that I was just happy to find a job at all. I felt I had paid my dues and all I wanted to do was chill out and settle down. Finding a guy was more appealing than having more responsibility or making more money. But after this past week, her advice was making more sense.
She continued, “You’re not a slacker, you worked just as hard as I did in college. But you’re out of the school bubble now. There isn’t a set path; you have to pave your own. Nobody’s going to hand you your future, and if they do, it’s probably not one you want.”
“I don’t really have any goals.” I shrugged. “I’m struggling to stay above water in my current position.”
“What about becoming an English teacher?”
“That was a while ago, when I was still with Eric. I tried applying to dozens of schools, but it’s so competitive for only a few positions that rarely open up. I like the idea of making a difference, having a positive impact on the world but that’s pretty vague.”
“Well, you’re currently employed at Bishop Corp, a big media company. There’s probably a lot of room to grow, right?”
“Out of being a personal assistant? I’m not sure what else I could do.”
“There’s tons of things!” she exclaimed. “You’re an English major. I’m sure you could write for one of the papers or magazines they own or even get into marketing. You could do social media...copywriting...”
I rubbed my chin, musing over her suggestions. Without a doubt, she was right that boys could be a distraction. Looking back at everything I invested into my relationship with Eric and us being broken up now—it all seemed kind of a waste. I could imagine being better off putting more effort into having a challenging and fulfilling career. At least if you part ways with a company, you could put it on your résumé as a positive experience. Failed relationships were more like black marks.
“Those sound like interesting options,” I replied. “Any advice on how I get started?” Seeing how well Sam was doing in her career so far was inspiring.
“You’re taking me seriously now.” She grinned. “You can start off with taking initiative and asking for more responsibility. Usually your boss would be glad if you can take extra work off his/her plate. If your boss likes you and thinks you can handle the load, you might get a promotion. It’s simple advice, but most fresh-out-of-college employees don’t know it. Oh, and always have a positive attitude.”
“What would I ever do without you Sam?”
“Mope around the apartment like a bum.”
I pinched her arm teasingly and she jerked it back, giggling.
“Great. Now that we have that settled...who is this?” She held her phone up to me.
“Oh god. That’s Trevor. Jordan’s brother.” It was a candid picture of the two of them shirtless at a beach, their tanned sculpted torsos exposed in their full glory, Trevor with a wicked smile, spinning a volleyball in one hand and Jordan laughing next to him mid-stride. It was the first time I’d seen them together. They looked young and carefree; the image of a genuinely happy Trevor was jarring. The paparazzi must have taken it a few years back.
“Jesus. If Jordan is smokin, this guy is radioactive. How do you get any work done around these two?”
I groaned. “You don’t know how hard it is for me.”
“I hate you.” She slapped my hand playfully. “You wanna trade jobs? I’ve got good benefits. Pretty please?”
My smiled widened. “As long as you don’t mind getting spanked or having your panties stolen when you make a mistake.”
“If only. I’d pay to have a hunk like him do that to me.”
We both got a good laugh. Sam always knew how to make me feel better.
“I’m sure Anthony would approve,” I jabbed, taking the final bite of my meal.
She scrunched her nose at the bar area of the restaurant. “Oh Anthony? Yeah, I’m sure he’d be upset.”
I sensed some intrigue. “So what’s going on with you two? You stayed over at his place already.”
Our waiter walked over with a martini that we hadn’t ordered.
“Compliments of the gentleman sitting by the bar,” he said, setting the glass on the table without spilling a single drop.
We both craned our necks around the other side of the restaurant to see a hairy guy waggle his tongue lewdly at Sam. She snorted.
“Tell him thanks, but no thanks,” she said. “I can buy my own drinks. Two more bottles of Sapporo, please.” The waiter nodded as he collected the martini and bustled away.
“Look at you,” I said, surprised. Sam liked to party and usually wasn’t one to pass up a free drink. “Are you that serious about Anthony?”
She shrugged. “He’s nice enough.”
We watched as the hairy guy received his returned gift from our waiter, downed it in one gulp, and walked away without looking at us. We redirected our attention back to our conversation.
“You sound excited about Anthony,” I said sarcastically.
She took a sip from her glass of water. “I’m trying to see if we’d work, but I’m not sure I’m feeling it. I wish I was a little better with men,” she said, catching a view out the window before returning her gaze to me.
Sam’s jaw-dropping looks almost made me take her comment as a joke. But she sounded serious. “What do you mean? Guys throw themselves at you all the time.”
“Like Mr. Hairy at the bar earlier?” She scoffed. “You think I like that kind of attention?”
“I think it would be kind of flattering,” I said thoughtfully.
“Oh, Lori,” Sam shook her head. “I know this might make me sound bad...but I don’t want just any guy who shows me the least bit of attention. I want to be with someone who’s smart, leads a fulfilling life, is financially secure, emotionally mature...”
“Do you ask for résumés from your suitors?”
“Ha, ha,” she said drily. “I realize I set high expectations, but why settle for something less? Especially if you’re going to be with them for a long time. Of course, landing Mr. Perfect is probably less likely for me than winning the lottery.”
Poor Sam. She didn’t have a lick of makeup on but she still looked incredible, drawing quite a few long glances from men in the restaurant. If she really liked Anthony, she’d be gushing. Instead, she was going on about her ideal man. Maybe Anthony wasn’t the one for her.
I wanted to prod her on the topic of her unsuccessful love life, but sensed she didn’t want to talk about it.
She shook her head quickly as if to free her mind from something. She smiled at me and downed the fresh beer the waiter brought over.
Her sudden laughter after she put the bottle down surprised me. “My first week at Blackhouse & Stevens, they had us sitting through dull orientation sessions. Your first week was much more exciting.”
“I can’t really say I’m looking forward to going to work tomorrow after the weekend I had.”
“That’s why you need to set goals to distract yourself from the less than professional stuff that’s been going on. Dr. Phil agrees with me.”
I voiced my agreement as the waiter brought us our check and some japanese mints. Sam was right: Bishop Corp. was a large company with a lot of different opportunities. If I wanted to nail down something more stable than my temporary position as a personal assistant and make something out of myself independent of a man—no matter how mind-blowingly gorgeous he was—I was going to have to start working for it.
Chapter 10
As the elevator doors rolled open at the twenty-sixth floor of the Bishop Building, I put on a bright smile. Sam had given me another pep talk before I left the apartment that morning, French-braiding my hair into a sweeping bun and telling me that I was strong and driven. She had even let me borrow her favorite pair of heels.
A few people looked up as I strode by, smiling in return. Sam was right—it was all about being in a positive state of mind. If I felt like I could do something, it became easier to do so. I promised myself that I would look into other opportunities at Bishop Corp. if I had any free time today. And while I was working, I’d be focusing on performing my best.
Today was going to be a good day. I was going to put this weekend behind me and romantic feelings for my boss on the backburner. I wasn’t ready for a relationship right now and Jordan was going to have to understand that.
Rounding the corner to the cozy alcove I referred to as the “Bishop Den”, I was happy to see Susan at her desk, staring down her nose and typing away on the computer. It seemed like forever last time I saw her. She brightened up when she spotted me.
“Happy Monday, Lori,” she chirped, setting her glasses on top of her hair.
“Happy Monday right back. How was your weekend?”
“Vegas was delightful,” she said excitedly.
I slapped my forehead. I’d forgotten she’d had to go to Las Vegas with Trevor—in my place. She didn’t look traumatized, and I figured she’d been able to keep all of her panties during the two days.
“I take it the trip went well?” I asked.
“Well, it went well for me. Not so much for Trevor,” she said, lowering her voice a little bit. “Watch out for him today. He’s in a terrible mood. The business side didn’t go as smoothly as expected.”
“The meeting had something to do with the merger, right?”
She nodded somberly. “He met with the stunning Waylon Lavoisier—probably the only person in the world more driven than Trevor.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Of course, don’t tell him I told you that.”
“My lips are sealed.” I mimed zipping them closed. “Lavoisier. I’ve seen that name before.”
“Probably,” she said. “He’s the head of Hyperion Media, the company that’s trying to buy us out.”
“Oh, yeah. Big-time merger business.” I’d typed that name plenty of times while compiling notes from the Bishops’ meetings.
“Definitely big time...But not as big time as the three hundred bucks I won!” She put up her hand to high-five me.
I returned the gesture, delighted by her energy. “That’s awesome, Susan! How did you manage that?”
“Poker, Texas hold ’em style.” She put her fingers up in the air shooting guns like a cowgirl.
“Really?” I raised my eyebrows, imagining Susan holed up in a smoky bar, a green visor shielding her eyes from the overhead light. It was hard to picture.
“What, didn’t see me as a poker player? Don’t tell me you thought I won that dough on slots. Slots are for boring grandmas.”
I laughed. I didn’t feel guilty anymore for her stepping in to go with Trevor to Vegas. She seemed to have suffered no ill effects from the trip—even coming out ahead.
I turned to go to my desk to assess the kind of work I’d have to wade through when I almost ran directly into Jordan. My smile swiftly faded as his musky cologne enveloped me. It beckoned memories of long kisses, the way his arms felt around me, how he felt inside me...
“Good morning, Lori.” He smiled at me briefly.
He looked tired—stressed out, even. But the circles underneath his gray-green eyes still didn’t affect how incredibly handsome he was.
“Hello.” I blushed as my voice cracked embarrassingly. I breathed in deeply
through my nose, trying to remember that we were just friends now. I’m strong, I’m driven.
“How was the rest of your weekend?” he asked.
“It was fine,” I said as breezily as I could. I had to keep reminding myself that he was my boss, not my boyfriend. I wanted to remain polite and professional.
“That’s good.” He looked down at his hands and then back up again quickly, seeming like he suddenly remembered why he was talking to me.
“Could you please type up these notes for me?” He handed over the sheaf of papers. “Please make them your priority—they’re pretty important.”
“Of course,” I said, straightening them. “I’ll get to it right away.”
“Okay.” We both tried to pass each other on the same side and awkwardly danced back and forth for a moment until he laughed lightly and bowed, indicating with his hand which way I should go.
Blushing wildly, I darted toward my desk. Maybe I should expect for our working relationship to be awkward for a while. After all, I was the one who friend-zoned him.
The notes were definitely merger related, I noticed when I opened up my computer and started typing the first one. I was beginning to get a little more interested in the whole process. The brothers were definitely consumed with it, as was our entire company.
I’d made it about halfway through the transcriptions when my desk phone rang.
“This is Lori.”
“It’s Trevor.” His icy voice sent a shiver down my spine. “Meet me in my office.” The phone clicked and the dial tone sounded. No “please” or “goodbye.” Typical.
I sat the receiver onto its cradle and nervously patted my hair. What could he possibly want? Our last encounter had ended with me down a pair of panties and then in tears, banging on his office door after he’d left for the day.
I didn’t need a repeat of that.
I marked my place in the notes with a Post-it and stood up warily. I snatched a pen and pad of paper from my desk drawer. Taking a deep breath and plastering a smile on my face, I remembered Sam’s pep talk and walked down the hall to Trevor’s office. Before I could have any second thoughts, I knocked on the door.
“Enter
.”
I pushed the heavy door open, remembering to step out of my shoes immediately upon entering. The lighting was low, like always, and Trevor was seated behind his desk, typing furiously on a slim laptop. His tie was thrown back over his shoulder and his suit jacket hung on the back of his leather office chair. A few loose strands from his usual slicked back style, hung by his cheek. He was off perfection today which made him even more endearing. Gone without seeing him for days, having him in the flesh now stole my breath. Where did these Bishops get their good looks from, anyway? Both of them were beyond dreamy.
Trevor looked up, not pausing in his typing, and smiled.
The Bishop Affair (Dominated by the Billionaire Brothers - Part Four) Page 4