by Whitney G.
I also refused to believe that she couldn’t see how much I’d given up for her. I hadn’t fucked another woman since we met because no other woman compared. I spent more time with her than with the women I used to date, and I could honestly say that she knew me better than anyone else. I was pretty certain I knew her better than anyone else, too.
“Um, Preston?” George waved his hand in front of my face. “Preston?”
“Yes?”
“Are we going to talk about some business today, or are you going to continue mumbling to yourself?”
“We can talk about business. Go ahead.”
“Great!” He cleared his throat. “So, as you know, Parker International wants to get into budget hotels for some strange reason that the CEO won’t divulge, but he wants to start with the Von Strum chain.”
“You don’t have to talk about me in the third person,” I said. “I’m right here.”
“Miss Lauren has always insisted that I talk to you in the third person when we’re about to pursue something new. It’s actually helped previously.”
“I don’t want to hear shit about Miss Lauren today.” I seethed. “Are we clear?”
He blinked, setting his paper down. “Please tell me you didn’t fire her. Please.”
I wouldn’t dare. “No, I’m just upset about something she’s done recently.”
“Oh!” He shrugged. “Well, I heard about how she berated our marketing team in Seattle, but that’s nothing to hold against her. She saved you a lot of money and tons of bad press. Now anyway, back to the Von Strum chain. It’s a three-star hotel chain that caters to families, road trip travelers, budget-conscious consumers, and—”
“Do you think I have a soul, George?” I interrupted him.
“Okay, that’s it. I think it’s time that I schedule you for another psychiatric evaluation.” He looked at his watch. “It’s been about three months since the last one, so would you like me to ask if the doctor can see you this evening?”
“Answer the question,” I said. “Do you think I’m soulless?”
“Depends. Is this conversation off the record?”
“Yes.”
“Well, with all due respect, Preston, I honestly think you’re an utter asshole.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
“I thought we were off the record,” he said. “You are hands-down the most ruthless CEO I’ve ever worked for, and there have been plenty of times when I’ve thought you lacked a soul. Hell, I think the fact that you don’t have any family or friends in your life has worked to your benefit, but it’s also been a huge detriment in how you handle things sometimes.”
“Do you think I’m evasive?”
“You’re beyond evasive.” He laughed. “I’ve been working for you for eight years and I still have no idea who you are.” He laughed even harder and stood to his feet. “I’m going to get an energy drink, and when I get back, you’re going to be the all-business Mr. Parker that I admire. I’m not sure how to handle this other version of you.” He patted my shoulder as he left the room, and my mind immediately reverted to thoughts of Tara and that damn two weeks’ notice.
I thought about asking her how I could be less “soulless” or less “evasive,” if that would be enough to get her to be more comfortable staying. If I could tell her that I was willing to do whatever it took to get her to be okay with remaining here at Parker International.
Maybe we can talk this out like adults.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Parker.” Tara walked into my office, smiling. “Here’s your lunch.”
“The interns are responsible for bringing me lunch these days. You know that.”
“Oh, I know,” she said, setting down the tray. “But since today is such a great day, I wanted to personally handle it for you. I hope you enjoy everything, especially the mashed potatoes.”
“Why the fuck are they green?”
“They don’t look that green to me.”
“They’re the same color as the salad.”
“Maybe the chef put something in them, then.” She shrugged. “Here is the report on The W Hotels that you asked for earlier. I highlighted all the important parts, just as you asked.”
I looked down and saw that she’d highlighted “the” in every sentence.
“I’ve sent your cufflink and watch collection to a new jeweler to get them polished, but they seem to have lost a few of them.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “They’re willing to give you a free twenty-dollar cleaning credit if they don’t find them by the end of the day. I mean, the shop’s name is Best Pawn Deals & Cheap Jewelry Cleaning, so I think they’ll do just as good a job with your valuables as the guys at Audemars Piguet or Phillippe Patek.”
“I swear to God, if every single one of my watches and cufflinks isn’t accounted for by the end of the day—”
“You’ll fire me?” She smiled. “Really?”
“I’ll definitely—” I paused, suddenly seeing where she was going with this. “I’ll have to consider all of my options if that is the case, Miss Lauren.”
If you think I’m going to fire you over some shit I can afford a hundred times over, you have another think coming ...
“Good to know.” She picked up a fork and placed it right into the green mashed potatoes. “Is there anything else I can do for you today, Mr. Parker?”
I tapped my fingers atop my desk, temporarily distracted by her bright pink lips and form-fitting beige dress. “That’s all for now, Miss Lauren.”
“I’ll be patiently awaiting your next request.” She gave me a slow smile, one of the rare flavors I couldn’t quite read, and then she left the room.
The second the door shut, I picked up my phone and called Cynthia.
“Yes, Mr. Parker?”
“Can you kindly have one of the interns bring me some lunch? Preferably something without green mashed potatoes?”
“Um.”
“Um? By um do you mean ‘yes and right away’?”
“No, sir. I meant that won’t be possible. Miss Lauren let all the interns have today and the rest of the week off. She said you wanted it that way so you could focus all of your energy on the Von Strum stuff.”
WHAT? “Oh, I see.” I felt my blood beginning to boil. “Well, when you get a chance, can you please pick up a new order for me from the cafe that I like?”
“Um, well.” She cleared her throat. “She let me off for two weeks, sir. I’m heading home to New Jersey right now. I guess I forgot to unlink my cell phone from my desk phone.”
I ended the call.
Okay, Miss Lauren. Two can play this goddamn game ...
SEVENTEEN
Tara
I SLEPT IN FOR THE first time in two years.
Rolling over in bed, I looked at the clock and saw that it was only nine o’clock. I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and noticed that my text inbox was full and my unread emails totaled three hundred and seven. Out of habit, I was tempted to start answering them all, to call my town car driver and ask that he immediately rush me to work so I could salvage the rest of the day, but I turned off my phone instead.
If Preston didn’t fire me over five “lost” Audemars Piguet watches, then he would definitely fire me for not showing up to one of his most important strategy meetings of the year. I set my alarm for noon and rolled back over, falling asleep.
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, I took a walk through Central Park before calling my driver and asking him to pick me up at a florist stand.
“Is everything alright, Miss Lauren?” He jumped out of the car and opened the back door for me. “Everyone at the office thought something had happened to you and I couldn’t reach you on your cell phone.”
“Everything’s perfectly fine. I just decided to take the day off.”
“The day off?” He looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”
“Absolutely.” I l
aughed and slipped onto the backseat. “I’m sure.”
As he drove, I turned on my phone and saw that my email inbox was now over five hundred messages, and the first page of messages were all from Preston.
Subject: You’re an hour late.
Subject: The Von Strum prep meeting is today.
Subject: Why am I still missing five watches?
Subject: Now, you’re two hours late ...
Shrugging, I turned it off again.
“Can we stop at Sweet Seasons for coffee first?” I asked.
“Of course.” His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Good thinking, Miss Lauren. Mr. Parker is always more understanding when he has some coffee in his hand.”
This coffee isn’t for him, it’s for me.
I used Preston’s black card at the shop, treating every customer inside to a free cup on his behalf, and then I bought ten of their eighty-dollar gift bags for no reason.
When I arrived at the office, the main receptionist stood up from her desk. “Miss Lauren?”
“Yes?”
She walked over to me, her eyes wide. “Miss Lauren, are you aware that you’re wearing sweatpants and a tank top? You know how Mr. Parker is about the dress code here. Would you like me to call your contact at Nordstrom’s and see if she can rush over a suit?”
“No, that’s okay. I’m sure Mr. Parker won’t mind me looking like this today.”
She swallowed and stepped back, looking as if she was the one wearing sweats instead of me.
I gave her one last smile and walked over to the elevator bank, noticing the silent stares of everyone in the lobby. I held back a laugh and hit the button for the top floor.
Stepping off the car seconds later, I swiped my card against the access panel and made my way to my side of the floor.
“Good morning, George.” I spotted him sitting in the hallway. “Is it going well so far?”
“Good morning, Miss Lauren?” He looked at his watch. “It’s four o’clock in the afternoon.”
“Oh, I didn’t notice. Well, I hope you got a lot of work done today, then.”
“I probably would’ve gotten a lot more done if you were here.” He looked at my outfit and shook his head. “Mr. Parker wants to see you. I suggest you change clothes first.”
“No, thanks.” I smiled and headed to Preston’s office.
When I stepped inside, I saw that he was standing by his windows—wearing the dark grey suit and silver chromed tie I loved him in the most. He was running his hands through his freshly cut hair, and for a split second, I almost forgot why I hated him so much.
“George said you wanted to see me?” I asked, and he immediately turned around—instantly turning me on the second his eyes met mine. “I’m so sorry that I’m four hours late to today’s meeting.” I rushed the words out before he could respond. “Did I miss anything important?”
“Not at all, Miss Lauren.” He eyed my outfit and stepped closer to me, and that smirk I was all too familiar with crossed his lips. “When I realized you weren’t going to arrive at your usual time, I told everyone we’ll start whenever you get here.”
“Then maybe I shouldn’t have shown up at all.”
“Maybe.” He closed the gap between us. “But like I’ve told you previously, you’re incapable of being idle in the daytime.”
“That’s probably the only thing you know about me.”
“I also know that you’ve never been fucked properly,” he said. “But that’s a story for a different day.” He kept his eyes on mine and pulled his phone out of his pocket, holding it up to his ear. “Mrs. Vaughn, Miss Lauren has finally decided to arrive, and she’s wearing exactly what I expected. So, can you kindly come upstairs with the wardrobe I ordered this morning so she can pick something more appropriate to wear for our rescheduled meeting?”
I felt my jaw unhinging and bit my lip to keep my mouth shut.
“I appreciate your assistance in this matter, Miss Vaughn.” He ended the call and returned the phone to his pocket. “You can take as much time as you need getting ready, Miss Lauren. Thanks to you, no B-level or C-level employee is allowed to leave this building until this meeting is finished, so it’s up to you whether people get to go home and enjoy the rest of their day, or whether they get to be a part of some game you’re attempting to play with your far-more skilled boss.”
Son of a bitch ...
I stood there, glaring at him—hating that my nipples were hardening under my tank top.
“Would you like some help getting dressed?” he asked, looking down and noticing my body’s reaction to him. He gently tugged the strap of my tank top. “I’m not opposed to helping you take this off at all.”
Shamefully wet, I stepped back and stormed out of the room.
He’d won this round, hands down. But I would definitely win the next.
THE NEXT MORNING, I leaned back in my office chair—hitting ignore on my phone each time Preston called me.
After ten straight rejections, he walked into my office and narrowed his eyes at me.
“May I help you with something, Preston?”
“Preston?” He raised his eyebrow.
“Oh, that’s right. Am I supposed to call you ‘Mr. Parker’ if we’re in the office?”
“I would prefer that since no other executive employees are allowed to do otherwise.”
“Okay. Well, I’ll try to remember that for next time, Preston.” I shrugged. “How may I help you this morning?”
“It’s the goddamn afternoon.”
“Is it?” I smiled and turned around in my chair, looking up at the clock. “It is two o’clock, isn’t it? Wow, time is really flying these days.”
“Miss Lauren ...”
“Yes?” I spun around to face him again. “You were saying you needed me to do something?”
“For starters, since you’ve given the interns unauthorized time off and you were beyond late again, you can go to Sweet Seasons and get me some afternoon coffee.”
“I don’t think so. You don’t need Sweet Seasons coffee anymore,” I said, standing up and walking over to my beverage cabinet. “I have something even better and faster for you.” I rolled out the mini Keurig I never got the chance to use, and I could literally feel him losing his shit as I plugged it into the wall.
“This takes like two minutes to heat up, and the coffee is usually ready seconds after that,” I said, opening a package of cheap Colombian-lite coffee pods. “And I know how particular you are about the chocolate drop that Sweet Seasons places at the bottom of every cup, so ...” I unwrapped a Hershey’s kiss and dropped it into a paper cup. “There.”
I placed the cup on the brewing plate and hit start. “Now, that you’re seconds away from enjoying some ‘just like’ Colombian coffee, what else do you need me to do for you?”
The vein in his neck swelled, but he kept his expression stoic. “After you go to Sweet Seasons and get me the coffee I prefer, the next thing you’re going to do—”
“I haven’t agreed to the first thing.”
“I know damn well that you’re going to do so.” He glared at me. “The next thing you’re going to do is bring me the report on the top ten budget hotels that you’ve been working on for the past four months so we can go over the calculations.”
“I stopped working on that a while ago,” I said. “But I’d be happy to send you the ten percent that I completed. I’m sure you can complete the other ninety percent on your own. You are the CEO of this company after all. It wouldn’t kill you to get your hands dirty for a few days.”
He sucked in a slow breath, looking as if he was about to give me the “You’re fucking fired” I rightfully deserved, but he didn’t. Instead, he stepped back and smiled.
I waited for him to get the last word, to hit me with one of his final lines, but it never came.
“Enjoy the rest of your day, Miss Lauren,” he said. “It was good to get your insight on these matters.” He left my office without another
word, without looking back and smirking. Nothing.
Confused, I rushed over to my desk and flipped through my “Ways to Make Him Fire Me” notes. The coffee was the most egregious thing on the list, and not completing my work was a close second.
This wasn’t his typical behavior, and I wasn’t quite sure how to make my next move at all.
I waited two hours before printing out my report (I really did work hard on it), but I wasn’t going out to get his coffee. I made my way to his office and found him sitting behind his desk, sipping from a Sweet Seasons cup.
He looked up as soon as I was halfway across his floor. “I was just about to call and give you the good news, Miss Lauren.”
“Am I finally being fired?”
“I said good news, not things that will never happen.” He took another sip from his cup. “I just got off the phone with the CEO of Sweet Seasons. I was telling her how much I enjoy their coffee, and how a certain employee of mine has somehow purchased over six figures of it over the past two years.”
“You can afford it ...”
“Yes, I can definitely afford it. Can’t I?” He smiled. “So, that’s why I’ve just talked them into their first licensing deal, and they’re going to build their first office café here in my building.”
I shook my head.
“They were so impressed with the amount I offered,” he said, continuing, “that they’re going to operate a mini stand for a few hours a day starting tomorrow until the official store construction is complete.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “So, that way, you can simply go downstairs to get my coffee when I ask for it, and I won’t have to deal with you blaming your lateness on coffee runs and traffic anymore.”
I bit my lip to prevent myself from screaming and considered walking out of his office.
“Anyway,” he said, taking another dramatic sip of that damn coffee. “May I help you with something?”
“Unfortunately. Here’s my report that you wanted.” I held it out for him, but he didn’t make a move to take it.