by Whitney G.
THREE WEEKS LATER...
THIRTY-SEVEN
Tara
I NEVER THOUGHT I WOULD see the day when I would miss working for Preston, but this morning was making me wonder if I should’ve stayed a little while longer. My calendar was empty, my task list was complete, and most of the staff was attending a training session that would keep them busy for the rest of the day.
Leaning back in my chair, I stared at the mountain of delivered gifts that was sitting in my corner. I had yet to touch any of them, and I wanted to make it to the four-week mark before I even looked at one of the attached cards, but with another blank afternoon, I was tempted to cave.
Before I could open the closest package, an email from my CEO popped onto the screen.
SUBJECT: IDEAS NEEDED
Hey everyone,
Just letting you know that I’m in need of some hosting ideas for a conference I want to hold for some executive friends this month. This would be for the first session regarding the Autumn Promotional Campaign we’re running next year, so please let me know if you have any.
Please don’t share this email with anyone who is not a B-level or C-level employee.
Mark Greywood
CEO of Marriott International
I IMMEDIATELY PULLED out the folder of ideas I was working on last week and made my way to his office. Knocking, I cleared my throat as I stepped into the room.
“Well, hello there, Miss Lauren.” He smiled at me as I walked inside, smoothing his greying hair. “How are you today?”
“I’m great. I was wondering if I could talk with you for a minute.”
“Of course, of course.” He gestured for me to have a seat and handed me a basket of bread. “Try a few of these mini-rolls first. They’re amazing.”
I hesitated.
“No worries, Miss Lauren,” he said. “They’re gluten-free.”
“Thank you.” I smiled and tried one. Then another, and another.
“Amazing, right?” He laughed. “I can’t get enough of these damn things. The chef who made these is out of this world, and he’ll be cooking for the B and C-level executives in a private party tomorrow before he starts his residency at our downtown hotel.”
Why didn’t I get an invite to that? “That sounds great. I wanted to show you some ideas for the conference you’re hosting for the executives. Since it will be a fall-themed campaign, you should make sure that everything about their trip from start to finish will fit that theme to heighten the brainstorming sessions.” I opened my folder. “If you’ll give me five minutes—”
“I didn’t know I included you on that email.” He interrupted me. “I don’t need any ideas from you, Miss Lauren. I’m sure they’re amazing, but this is a man’s job as you know.”
“No, I don’t know. What do you mean?”
“I mean, all I hired you to do was be the interim.” He smiled. “So, be the interim. Do the few small things in the morning from my short-list, handle your inbox, and rest your pretty little head while the guys run everything else.”
“I contributed to all the marketing campaigns at Parker International,” I said. “It wasn’t even in my job description, and some of my ideas were better than the damn Marketing Director’s.”
“Like I’ll believe that.” He tilted his head to the side, giving me his patronizing smile. “The Preston Parker I know wouldn’t dare let a woman have any input on anything except how short he likes her skirt.”
“He’s not like that at all.” I paused. “A good idea was a good idea, no matter who it came from.”
“Nice try, Miss Lauren.” He winked at me. “But I’m pretty sure I know Mr. Parker far better than you do. He’s been at this for over a decade just like I have, and the only reason he’s number one is because he’s slightly more ruthless than we are, but it’s also because we always have the right thinkers in the room. The guys.”
“Okay, look.” I wasn’t going to put up with this for a full year. “I would appreciate it if you would just listen to what I have to say before making any—” I sneezed. “Sorry. As I was saying—” I sneezed again.
He bit into another mini-roll. “Something wrong, Miss Lauren?”
“Was there any garlic in those?”
“Oh, yeah. Tons.” He smiled. “The beauty of how the chef makes them is that you don’t even taste it until it’s paired with the wine, but it’s there.” He smiled. “Brilliant, huh?”
“I need to go home.” I felt my throat itching and knew it was only going to get worse from there. “Now.”
“Well, do you want me to get you a cab?” he asked. “I’m suspending the town car service starting tomorrow anyway. Sorry that I didn’t include you on that email either.”
“A cab would be fine.”
He picked up his desk phone and handed it to me. “You don’t expect me to actually call it for you, do you?”
LATER THAT NIGHT, I groaned as I held my phone’s camera up to my face. My lips were swollen, and my eyes were red and puffy.
“Here you go, bestie.” Ava placed a cold towel on my forehead. “If it makes you feel any better, my new job sucks. Like, I can’t even put into words how much I hate it.”
“I think I hate my new job, too,” I said. “Why is it so hard to find a good one?”
“Like I would know.” She laughed. “Anyway, your boyfriend stopped by the concierge desk today. Again.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Well, I ran into him on my way out, and he practically begged me to talk to him.”
“Preston Parker doesn’t beg for anything.”
“He was definitely begging.” She fluffed the pillow behind my head. “I told him you got sick at work. Like, actually sick. Not as in a ruse to get him to go away.”
She stepped away for a few seconds and returned with a silver tray of food. “He told me to contact Other Noodles and they flew this in while you were sleeping. Can you believe that?” She uncovered the tray, revealing chicken soup and gourmet crackers. There was also hot tea, ginger ale, and a note.
FEEL BETTER (AND PLEASE answer one of my calls),
Preston
PS—Yes, the noodles are gluten-free.
PSS—I still wish that you were working for me, but I do appreciate the “Do it Your Goddamn Self” list.
“I’M NOT EATING HIS apology food.”
“Yes, you are.” She handed me a spoon. “He also sent medicine, and Violet sent you a crayon drawing. Don’t ask me what it’s supposed to be, because I honestly can’t tell.”
I laughed and slowly sat up, sipping the soup. “After he talked to me the way he did in his office, would you give him a second chance?”
“Let’s see. What would I do if my former billionaire-boss got super mad at me for going to another hotel company and put me out of his office? If this is the same billionaire who cares about me, gives me good cock, and wants to be with me while calling me every day and even sending gifts to my best friend just to get small updates about my life?” She tapped her chin. “No, I wouldn’t give him a second chance. I’d find another billionaire. They’re like a dime a dozen, you know?”
“Wait a minute. You’ve been giving him updates on me in exchange for gifts?”
“Of course not.” She covered the Cartier watch on her wrist. “What type of friend do you think I am?”
I picked up a pillow and tossed it at her. “A terrible one.”
“Give it some time and decide for yourself,” she said. “As lovesick as he’s acting, I’m sure he’ll wait as long as it takes.”
“He’s not lovesick, Ava. He’s just used to having me around to help him make decisions.”
“No, I’m pretty sure he cares about you just as much as you care about him.” She leaned against the doorframe. “You know, I believe that you hated him the first year or so, but after that, I’m not so sure. You kept showing up to work when you knew you had enough money in the bank, and you could’ve easily walked away.”
&
nbsp; “For the umpteenth time, I was legally bound to do so.”
“You weren’t personally bound to do so.” She shrugged. “You could’ve stayed at home and never shown up. What would he have done?”
“Get out of my room.”
“That’s what I thought.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
Preston
I SET DOWN MY PHONE as my tenth call of the day went straight to Tara’s voicemail. I’d never called a woman this much and received nothing in return, and with her knowing all my ways to get to her, I wasn’t sure what I could do next. I couldn’t deny that my days were far less exciting without her, and in her absence, I spent way less time in my office.
Feeling a slight tug at my pants, I looked down and saw Violet toying with her new sports cup.
“Can you help me, Uncle Preston?” she asked.
I took it from her hands and adjusted the straw. “Here you go.”
“Thank you!” She smiled and let Bear have a sip. Then she looked up at me again. “I miss Tara.”
“Me, too.”
“Can she come play with us?”
“Let’s see.” I picked up my phone and called her friend Ava. I was done being patient.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Ava,” I said. “It’s Preston.”
“I know that. You just called me two hours ago—without a gift offer might I add, so I don’t have any new information for you.”
I laughed. “I’m not going another day without seeing her. Where is she?”
“She doesn’t work for you anymore.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
“She also doesn’t love you anymore.”
“I wasn’t aware she loved me to begin with.”
“Well...” She gasped. “She didn’t. She hated you.”
“Please tell me where she is, Ava.”
“You’re not going to offer me a gift first?”
“The gift will be her not talking about me every night.”
“She doesn’t talk about you every night.” She paused. “Okay, no I would definitely like that. She’s at the 21 Roof Bar on Park Avenue. It’s a work event.”
“Thank you very much.”
“By the way, if you ever talk to her the way you did in your office again, I will get all my fashion friends and we will one star the hell out of all your hotels,” she said. “I will also hire someone to make sure that the next chocolate drop at the bottom of your Sweet Seasons coffee isn’t chocolate at all if you catch my drift.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m promising you,” she said. “Now, get off my phone and go talk to the person you want to talk to.”
THIRTY-NINE
Tara
TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN,
Thank you for the opportunity to work for your misogynistic brand. I’ve truly appreciated being treated like a second class—
“MISS LAUREN?” MY BOSS walked toward me, and I put away the first draft of my next two weeks’ notice. “Miss Lauren, I want to introduce you to Mr. Kline. This is the man who put on this event at a moment’s notice. Isn’t it grand?”
“It’s something.” I bit my tongue to prevent myself from saying this event was basic as hell. The food was overcooked, the theme (Old Hollywood) was nonexistent, and most of the decorations were outdated. The “star” of the event was an Elvis impersonator, and I was finally accepting that Preston would always be the best hotelier this city had ever seen.
“Mr. Kline has been working with me for a full decade now,” he said. “He’s someone you can learn a lot from since you’re so eager to do work all the time.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Lauren.” Mr. Kline extended his hand as my boss walked away. “How long have you been working at Marriott?”
“Too long already.”
“What’s that?”
“A little over three weeks.”
“Ah,” he said, still shaking my hand, slowly caressing the back of it with his thumb. “Well, if you ever want to learn a few things from someone with some experience, I’m always available. Mr. Greywood has told me that you’re quite ambitious.”
I damn near vomited as I jerked my hand away. “If you think that I’m willing to fuck you to get a leg up in this industry, you’re sadly mistaken,” I said. “I’ve already worked with the best brand in the business, and I’m just here to take notes and see why businesses like yours never catch up.”
“Excuse me?”
“I thought it would take me a year, but it’s only taken three weeks.”
“Well, then.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I can see exactly why Preston Parker let you go. You don’t know your place. Typical of women in this industry anyway.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t be surprised if Mr. Greywood has a long talk with you Monday.”
“Don’t be surprised if I no longer work there Monday.”
Unable to come up with something else to say, he cleared his throat and walked away.
I pulled up my two weeks’ notice again, redrafting it from the very beginning. I was three paragraphs into my thoughts when I felt a familiar set of hands wrap around my waist. All of a sudden, I remembered those hands owning me in front of a mirror, holding me against a desk, and pinning me against a glass table.
“I’m really starting to think that you do hate me,” Preston whispered, setting every nerve in my body on fire in seconds. “How else can you explain making me come to some sad shit like this just to catch a glimpse of you?”
He spun me around, and my words stalled on my lips as I looked him over. Dressed in the immaculate grey suit and sparkling cufflinks he was wearing on the first day we met, he was making every woman on the roof stare in his direction.
His green eyes were rendering me speechless all over again, and my heart was racing a mile a minute.
“I hope you’re not here to say that you’re sorry,” I said. “You’re wasting your time because I don’t forgive you.”
He raised his eyebrow, not saying anything.
“I don’t appreciate the way you talked to me in your office the last we spoke or the way you tossed me out like it was nothing,” I said. “I also don’t appreciate the fact that you can’t go one day—like one day, without texting and calling me nonstop like I’m still your assistant.”
“I texted and called you far more when you were my assistant.”
“That’s not the point. You’ve said everything in those hundreds of messages and emails except the two words I highly doubt you’ll ever say. So, as sexy as you are, and as much as I do miss feeling you inside of me and hanging out with Violet—”
“I’m sorry.” He interrupted me, tightening his grip on my waist. “I’m sorry, Tara.”
“For not giving me a chance to tell you my side of the story?”
“For not telling you how much I cared about you sooner.” He looked into my eyes. “I should’ve said it a long time ago.”
“Weeks ago?”
“Years ago,” he said. “The first two months you worked for me.”
“You had a hell of a way of showing it.”
“Come back, and I’ll do it better.”
“You have Taylor now.”
“I have my fifth Taylor now.” He smiled and held me even closer. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back. I just want you back.”
“Are you not sorry for kicking me out of your office as well?”
“I am,” he said, looking genuine. “And I’m even sorrier for the past few weeks since a certain someone has done the one thing that always gets to me. The one thing I more than deserved.”
“Hating you?”
“Ignoring me.” He smiled. “I can’t take it anymore.”
“Well, I’ve moved on to someone else, so you may want to let go of me before he gets back.”
“I’m not even going to entertain that line of conversation,” he said, smirking. “It’s one thing to downgrade your job, but you wou
ldn’t dare downgrade me.”
“It’s not a downgrade just because he doesn’t have a billion dollars.”
“It’s a downgrade because he doesn’t exist.” He rubbed his hands against my back. “I’m not leaving until you tell me that we can pick up where we left off.”
“And if I say that we can’t?”
“You’d be lying, but I’d just show up at your job Monday and ask you again.”
“I won’t be there Monday,” I said, smiling. “I’ve learned all that I’m going to learn there, and I’m going to pre-date my two weeks’ notice.”
He looked stunned. “Does that mean you’re coming back?”
“Hell no,” I said, feeling his lips brush against mine. “I’ll never work for you again.”
“I’m a much better boss now.”
“No, the hell you’re not.” I laughed. “I only took this job so I could learn how to be in a different role, so when I have my own company, I’ll have a good understanding of what each C-level executive does. It wasn’t personal, Preston.”
“I know that now,” he said. “What do I have to do to get you back?”
“You can start by kissing me,” I said. “I’ll have to create a short-list and put it on your desk for the rest.”
His lips immediately met mine, and my back hit the roof’s railing as he slipped his tongue between my lips, as he took his time exploring every inch of my mouth. He caressed my sides as he kissed me harder, and I completely forgot that we were in public.
For several minutes, it was just us, and it was like we were in his office all over again.
When he finally tore away from me, I was struggling to catch my breath, and everyone on the roof was staring at us.
Completely unfazed by the attention, Preston smiled and clasped my hand. “I think we need to finish this elsewhere,” he said, leading me right through a crowd of open-mouthed Marriott executives. “We should also compromise on the idea of you working for me again.”