by Mika Jolie
No, what rubs me the wrong way about her is that she can pretty much do whatever she wants, and she’ll never have to deal with the consequences. She’s not alone, either—there are thousands of trust fund babies and heiresses all over New York City, but knowing that she’s used her connections to muscle her way into her position is what gets to me. It would be better if she just wasted her time partying and shoe shopping like all the others, instead of strutting around the office like she’s had to work for anything in her entire life. When she’s not doing that, she’s out getting sloshed with her rich friends, and I’m stuck having to hear about it whenever I pass her in the hallways. It’s enough to—
“Jagger?” comes Richard’s voice, pulling me out of my thoughts. I look up to see the rest of the room fixated on me, Charlotte included, and I shift a little in my chair. “Are you with us?”
Fuck. No, I’m not. “Yes, sir,” I reply.
“Well, you’re going to want to pay attention to this,” Richard continues, “since it involves you.”
Me?
Shit.
Questions pounds my head. What deadline did I miss? None to my knowledge. Has he finally caught on to Charlotte’s dislike of me? That would be just my luck—getting fired as a last act of parental favoritism.
“Is there something wrong, Mr. Sloan?” I ask, my voice is deceptively calm.
“No, not at all,” he replies. “In fact, the main reason I wanted you all here today was to discuss the Digital Strategy Manager position that opened up last month.”
I sit up straighter in my chair. I’ve had my eye on that job since the minute Pat left the company, and I’ve made that clear to Richard. It would be a bit of a departure from my role on the creative team, but this kind of promotion would be a once in a lifetime opportunity.
After a few years in that role, I could get a job at any marketing firm in New York. Hell, I could even start up my graphic design firm (a guy can dream, right?). I’ve certainly paid my dues at Sloan, and no one can argue that. I’ve been here since I finished grad school, and my ideas haven’t gone unnoticed by the higher-ups…including the top dog himself. And the work didn’t start here, either.
I’ve been at this ever since I was a kid. I guess you could call me a “system success story.” The kid from a broken home who spent his childhood bouncing from foster family to foster family. I don’t think anyone was expecting me to make something of myself, especially not me, but the scholarship from the Montgomery Corporation gave me what I needed to launch into the corporate world and never look back. I worked my ass off in school, and I’ve worked my ass off here, it’s about time someone finally acknowledged that.
“Quite a few of you have expressed interest in the position,” Richard says. “And I’ve spent the past few weeks doing an in-depth review of your performances.” He clears his throat again, shuffling the papers on his desk. I exchange a glance with Mike, who shrugs his shoulders. “This is never an easy decision to make, especially with the prestige of this position,” Richard adds. “That said, the board and I have narrowed the selection down to two candidates. The first is Jagger Crane, from our creative department.” He makes eye contact with me, and my heart soars. “The second candidate,” he continues, “is Charlotte Sloan.”
And just like that, my brief moment of joy melts away.
Charlotte Sloan. His daughter.
Of. Fucking. Course.
3
Charlotte
Are my ears deceiving me?
Nope. Nope. They’re not. I can feel everyone’s eyes in the room on me. I know what they’re thinking—Daddy’s little girl, up for another promotion. Little do they know I have to work twice as hard to prove myself to my father.
I straighten in my chair. I had been starting to wonder if he was even taking my interest in the job seriously, and I have to give him credit for this. He might be a womanizer, but when it comes to business, my father rarely makes the wrong decision, nor does he ever treat me differently. The fact that the promotion has come down between Jagger and me can only mean one thing. In his mind, we’re both qualified.
Slowly, I turn my head toward Jagger, and our eyes meet. His gaze is penetrating and goosebumps litter my arms. My physical reaction to him infuriates me. The way my body betrays me isn’t new. I hate it. It’s been going rogue for three years now, right from the very beginning when Jagger joined Sloan Marketing. We disliked each other at first sight. I’m okay with that. What I despise is the host of butterflies swarming in my stomach whenever he’s around.
Don’t get me wrong, he’s an attractive guy, with impossibly blue eyes and tousled golden-brown hair that makes him look like a classic film star. But that’s where the positive qualities end. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll want the job. He’s also a driven guy—almost too driven, like one of those overachievers who somehow managed to go all four years of high school without ever having a social life.
That’s his problem. At the end of the day, he’s too uptight and clearly allergic to letting his hair down and having some fun. His personality seems to begin and end with his career, although that hasn’t stopped him from making it clear that he doesn’t care much for me. I’m aware of how he views me: a spoiled, rich party girl who’s never had to work for anything in her entire life.
The worst part is, sometimes I’m not even sure if he’s right or not. I do like to get out and have fun, and not just because all work and no play stresses me out to no end. Part of me likes to embrace the stereotype of the Manhattan trust-fund baby. At least when I’m out clubbing and drinking, I’m not suffering under the crippling expectations of the people at Sloan Marketing. Partying gives me a chance to escape from my roots, from the reality of my mom’s bitterness and my father’s pattern of dysfunctional love.
I’m on my feet as soon as the meeting ends, well aware of Jagger behind me. He’s close enough that I catch a whiff of his cologne. The intriguing burst of citrus and masculinity is a refined yet sensual combination that is sure to turn heads.
Not mine of course. In fact, I’m ready to toss another snide comment in his direction when my dad’s voice stops me. “If you wouldn’t mind staying back for a minute.” He glances over my shoulder. “You too, Jagger,” he adds. “I need a few minutes of your time to discuss the next round of the selection process.”
Great. Dad’s going to make me work for this position, that much is clear. In truth, I don’t need to work, but lazing about all day has never been my thing. As for my father, he’s always told me that he expects me not to ride on his charity and to make my way in the world, no matter what other people might think. I don’t expect this to be any different, and I know that the job is far from guaranteed.
This is why I’m going to do whatever I can to beat Jagger.
4
Jagger
“Charlotte, I can’t have you wandering into a meeting twenty minutes late.” Richard’s eyes reflect the disapproval in his tone.
“Not on purpose, Dad. Is this why you asked me to stay behind?” she asks, and there’s surprising venom in her tone.
Feeling like an intruder, I glance at the blank whiteboard across the room, but I can’t avoid their discussion.
“Not now, Charlotte,” her father warns.
“Why not?” Charlotte pushes, an edge creeping into her voice. “Do you have to get back to your new wife? How old is she again?”
My gaze ping-pongs from father to daughter as they snipe at each other. The air is so brittle it could snap, and if it doesn't, I might.
Am I surprised to see that they’re bickering in the aftermath of him putting her up for a position?
Maybe. But maybe not.
It’s common knowledge Richard is on his third wife. The man goes through women like Hogwarts goes through Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers. From my observation, he and Charlotte only seem to tolerate each other. Frankly, at times I wonder why she even chose to work for her father.
“Charlotte,
I mean it,” he says, possibly forgetting that I’m here as he turns to her.
“Want to know why I was late to our meeting?” She persists, her tone defiant. “Mom had a meltdown this morning…and guess who had to take care of her? Yes. Me..” She flicks a wayward strand of hair out of her face. “Not that you’d care or anything, but—”
“That’s enough,” he says in a low voice. She stares back at him but says nothing more.
It looks as though they’ve reached an impasse. I’m bored by the dramatics. Frankly, I have no desire to be the witness of a showdown between my boss and his daughter.
Richard leans against the conference table, putting his hands in his pockets. “I wanted to talk to the two of you about how I’ll be making this decision,” he tells us. “You’ve both given impressive performances ever since you started here, and even though you work in different areas, I could see you both doing a great job as the Strategy Manager.”
“I’m really glad to hear you say that, sir,” I tell him, relieved the conversation has turned back to work. “I can’t speak for Charlotte here,” I add with a glance at her, “but I’m ready to do whatever it takes to show you I’m cut out for this job.”
“No, you can’t speak for me.” Charlotte agrees, addressing me even though she doesn’t meet my gaze.
I quirk an eyebrow at that, but say nothing, and look back at Richard. His gaze flicks between me and Charlotte, and something unreadable passes across his face, but within a moment he’s gone back to the stony businessman I’m used to.
“Anyway,” he says, crossing his arms, “I’ve decided that the best way to decide which of you would be the better fit is to see you working on the same project.”
My stomach drops at that. I don’t like where this is going. Charlotte’s eyes remain fixed on her father as he continues.
“The McGowan account is one of our biggest projects for this quarter,” he explains, naming a hedge fund group in the Financial District. “They’re launching a line of ESG funds, and they want this to be their biggest wave of new investors yet. They’ve already tapped us for their next three campaigns, but I want the two of you to work on the first one together. I’ll expect regular updates as you complete the project. This is the only way I can decide which of you is best for the position.”
Charlotte’s stone-faced expression finally cracks, giving me a hint of satisfaction, but just a hint.
“Seriously?” she demands, throwing her arms up. “Dad, that’s ridiculous.” She reminds me a little bit of a teenager who’s just been told she can’t stay out past curfew.
“It’s my decision, Charlotte,” he says. “And as your boss, I expect you to go along with it.”
“But it makes no sense,” she protests. Seeing Richard preparing to say something else, she adds, “I don’t see the need to work with Jagger to prove I’m cut out for the job.” She waves a hand vaguely in my direction. “I mean, we’re competing against each other. We’re not trying for a partnership, here.”
Fair point.
“She’s right.” I begrudgingly agree. She shoots a look at me, and for a moment I’m struck by her eyes. Have they always been that shade of emerald green? I don’t think I’ve ever paid attention before. But I tug my gaze away before I can give it any more thought. “Respectfully,” I say, “I don’t see the logic, sir.”
“Being a director isn’t just about performing well,” says Richard. “It’s also about making sure the people you work with perform well. You’ve both shown me you can do a good job on your own, now’s your chance to show me you can do a good job as a team. If that’s a problem for either of you, then maybe you aren’t cut out for this position, after all.”
There’s a long moment of silence. I look down at the hardwood floor, while Charlotte shuffles her feet for a second before muttering, “All right. Fine.”
Richard glances at me and I give him a curt nod. “Very good,” he says. “Now, McGowan and Associates have a couple of strategies in mind already…” He begins to rattle off instructions, already digging in his briefcase again for the initial suggestions, and I wonder if I should be taking notes.
In spite of myself, I’m curious how Charlotte is reacting to Richard’s laundry list of ideas. Her face is stoic enough in response, but that’s probably only because she assumes her father will hand her this job without a second thought.
Oh, how wrong she is. I’m going to beat her, hands down. That’s the whole point of this competition. If daddy dearest was going to give her the job, he would have done so.
Feeling rather amused, I continue to examine her from my peripheral vision, watching for a sign of nerves. Instead, I find myself noticing the light freckles on her nose, the plumpness of her lips, and the way the top center dips low to a perfect little V. I wonder what it would feel like to run my thumb over her lips before kissing her.
Why am I doing this again?
These recurring thoughts invade my mind when I least expect them. She might be easy on the eyes, but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s a spoiled daddy’s girl who wants to snap up my one chance at moving up in this company. My physical reaction to her is insignificant. I’m a heterosexual guy—it’s in my DNA to notice beautiful women.
“So, I guess that about wraps this up,” Richard says, and I realize that I wasn’t paying attention to a word he said. Fuck. That means I’m going to have to go crawling over to Charlotte and have her fill me in. Not a great start. “I’m looking forward to watching you both take this on.” He hands Charlotte the project folder before snapping his briefcase closed and making for the door. “And by the way,” he adds, turning back to us one last time, “I expect you to keep things civil. Both of you.” Shooting Charlotte a warning look, he strides out of the room without another word.
She and I are left standing in the conference rooms, and I stuff my hands in my pockets and turn to face her, already priming a sarcastic comment, but then her phone flashes and she looks down to answer it. A look of first disbelief, and then disillusionment, passes over her face as she taps out a response. Probably a text from some guy, her current lover, the frat boy of the week.
She snorts, shaking her head, and curiosity gets the better of me.
“What?” I ask.
She tilts her chin up, giving me an incredulous look. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t.”
She rolls her pretty green eyes before locking her phone and tossing it back into her purse. “Sorry to break up the party, but I gotta go.”
“You just got here.”
“I’m late for my spa appointment or something.” And with that, she turns on her heel and marches out of the conference room after her father.
Hence my point—Charlotte Sloan is a spoiled brat who doesn’t bring anything to the table. Now we have to work together.
5
Charlotte
“LinkedIn, Jagger? Are you serious?” I stare at him from across the desk, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms. It’s been a week since the board meeting, and today is our first day collaborating—although I use that word generously—on the McGowan and Associates account. It’s going about as well as you’d expect—we’ve made zero progress and can’t agree on anything.
“It’s the biggest networking platform in the world.” He contracts his brows in an expression of displeasure. “And more importantly, it’s big with investors.”
“Have you been paying attention at all?” I ask. “McGowan himself said he wanted to target Millennials and Gen Z. Do you really think LinkedIn is going to do that?”
He rakes a hand through his light brown hair and pushes away from the desk. No matter how flustered he gets, the guy always seems to…smolder.
Yeah, that’s the word. He smolders.
Ugh! he annoys me to the ends of the earth, but I can’t deny the guy is one piece of man candy.
And I don’t like it.
He crosses his legs, throwing his head to the side and looking for
a moment like a Ralph Lauren model. There’s no logic to my intense dislike for him, but something about Jagger Crane just pokes me the wrong way. He’s nice to look at, but then he opens his mouth and immediately cancels any points he earned from his handsomeness.
See, it’s okay to find someone sexy and annoying at the same time.
“Well?” he asks, and with a start, I realize that he’s asked me a question.
I pull myself closer to the table. “What?”
“I asked you if you had any bright ideas about the platform,” he replies.
My brows furrow. “Platform?”
“Since you think LinkedIn is dated, what do you have in mind?”
Oh, right. I clear my throat, still a little flustered but hoping it doesn’t show on my face. “That’s easy if you don’t think like an eighty-year-old,” I say, a little haughtily. “Social media, obviously. Snapchat, Instagram… What’s that other one? The one where they do lip syncs?”
“Tik Tok.” Jagger snorts. “And you call me out of touch.”
That almost gets a laugh out of me. Almost. I swallow the chuckle and make a show of scoffing like the technicalities are irrelevant. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. The point is you clearly have no idea how to market to your target audience.”
“Social media is crucial to my job. Knowing specs and sizes for each platform is kind of part of my job.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you know what’s trending,” I throw back at him. “You design what marketing asks.”
“Okay, fine.” He taps a finger on his computer screen and types something, then focuses his attention on me. “You got me. Social media isn’t my thing. I have better things to do.”