by Cynthia Dane
A commotion in the room beyond my personal office roused me before my minute was up. Raising, feminine voices erupted in anger and shot me out of my seat. Never, in my ten years of overseeing my family’s company, had I ever heard such a ruckus that wasn’t caused by an earthquake.
As far as I could tell, the world was not shaking. That meant there had been an internal incident, and from the sounds of it, Ji-min Cho was involved.
And Natalie. I recognized her voice quite well by that point.
Chapter 4
NATALIE
Working in one of the busiest offices on the west coast was certainly no cakewalk. Not that I would have been happy with less than a challenge.
As interns, Aiden Webb and I were a haphazard mix of personal assistants and receptionists. We had tasks we needed to perform by the end of each day – most of it mind-numbing document work that Brooke Pentecost passed on to us from her own desk – and chores that popped up on an as-needed basis.
We were jack-and-jill-of-all-trades. If Ji-min called out sick or had to take time off for one of her many doctor’s appointments (later I found out she was getting special attention from her doctor, if you catch my drift) one of us had to fill in for her. By the end of the first week, I had learned how to operate the phone and take down messages to both Mr. Mann’s and Ms. Pentecost’s liking. Aiden floundered a bit on that front.
Actually, he floundered on a lot.
I finished everything first, even if I had technically more work than him. I volunteered to do the lunch runs if late morning meetings were running over and Brooke couldn’t be spared. I took home her old notes and learned her shorthand, intent on replicating it to the best of my ability. I learned the names of everyone else in the office and the names of the custodians, technicians, and deliverymen who steadily came in and out of the office as if they were salmon swimming upstream.
By the following Wednesday, I had learned that the head of the IT department down in the basement was a thirty-three year old former wunderkind named Thomas who loved it when I greeted him at the door. By that Friday, he was making the maintenance of my professional devices a top priority.
Aiden… fruitlessly flirted with Jimmy Cho and constantly asked me for help on the simplest of tasks.
But I didn’t have time to worry about his underperformance. I was focused on my own advancement from the moment I sat down in that chair. Besides, the constant work was a good distraction from how I felt every time I went into Mr. Mann’s office or he passed by my desk – that latter a rarer occasion than I was prepared for.
When I applied to that internship, I had been prepared to live and breathe Mann-Garrett Enterprises. My friends wouldn’t hear from me for months. The only reason my mother knew I was still alive was because we lived together. A love life? Are you kidding me? I was going to take care of my debilitating urges in the ten minutes I had before bed every night.
I wasn’t prepared to gasp every time I came face to face with my boss.
I felt like a star struck teenager, and not the cute and innocent middle school kind. Eric Mann wasn’t Lance Bass or Nick Carter (I had a type when I was nine. Sue me.) He was my boss, and one of the most powerful men I had ever met!
One half of me was eternally grateful that he was nothing but professional toward me. The other half resented him for it. The half that was a woman first and foremost. A romance and sex-starved woman.
What attracted me to him? His power? His experience at such a young age? Eric Mann became president and CEO when he was nineteen, shortly after his father died. He had barely started undergrad, yet managed both school and running a multibillion dollar empire at the same time! Granted, he had a board of advisors to make the crucial decisions until he graduated, but I’ll be the first to tell you that Eric Mann’s business school project was turning more profits in his own business.
That was sexy as hell to me. The fact he was handsome and nonthreatening in the same breath turned me on even more.
Because let me tell you, I was used to the threatening types. So used to them that I was surprised it only took five days before I exploded like the ever-ticking time bomb I was.
There was only one thing that could rattle me that first week at my new job.
The same thing that always makes me see red. To this day, I will turn into a total cunt once someone slaps me in the face with even the most casual racism.
Of course it only took a week! What the hell did I expect? A vacation from life?
It started early in the afternoon, shortly after we returned from lunch. Eric was holed up in his office. Brooke had stepped out to run some errands for her boss. Aiden and I sat at our desks, proofreading memos and typing up Brooke’s notes from a meeting that morning. The whole office was a quiet buzz of copying machines and muffled conversations on phones. The only sporadic movement was one of the junior secretaries leaping up to rush to the bathroom, pulling down the hem of her skirt and clasping her hand over her stomach. The idiot had worn a white skirt on the first day of her period, and I could only roll my eyes as she held back tears of embarrassment. Please. Like anyone but me was paying attention.
A courier stepped through the glass doors. He immediately approached Jimmy at the receptionist’s desk, who picked up her pen and prepared to sign for whatever.
“Got something here from Beijing,” he said with a midwestern drawl. “Higher ups said there was some important instruction on the first line, but I didn’t get a translation. Here.” He slid it across Jimmy’s glass desk. “Let me know what it says so we can clear this up.”
He went back to filling out his own paperwork while Jimmy gaped at him in disbelief. Her Ice Queen Armor turned a startling shade of winter blue as her French-tipped nails nearly sliced the paper in half.
“I’m not Chinese,” she scoffed. “I’m Korean.”
The courier sighed as if this was the biggest inconvenience of his day. Not that he bothered to look Jimmy in the face. “What does it matter? Don’t you Koreans learn Chinese too?”
Jimmy was about to upchuck all over the nice courier’s khaki uniform. “Screw you!” she said with a flawless accent.
I couldn’t help but grin in her direction. You go, Jimmy, I thought. Own his dumb ass. This guy probably thought Korea and China were the same damn thing.
Ji-min Cho and I may have come from different ethnic backgrounds – let alone countries – but I instantly felt that sweet solidarity that you can only feel when someone knows exactly what you go through in this bullshit world.
Until she fucking turned on me, anyway.
“Ask her.” She jerked her pen toward me, sitting thirty feet behind her. Even so, her voice easily carried through the opened doors. “She’s the Chinese woman, not me!”
My smile dropped off my face. What. The. Fuck?
The fucking shit hell, Jimmy? To this day I can’t believe you pulled that shit. You wondered why I wouldn’t cover for you when you went to fuck your Goddamned dermatologist the next morning?
“Fine.” The courier snatched the cursed paper off Jimmy’s desk and approached mine. “I’m told you’re the resident Chinese expert around here.”
Half the office’s eyes were on me, including Aiden’s. Jimmy mumbled beneath her breath and crossed lines through her day planner. Me? I was fuming. At her. At the courier.
At myself for not being able to brush this shit off and kindly explaining to the dumb asshole what I instead shouted at him.
“I’m not Chinese,” I spat. “I’m Taiwanese. There’s a difference.” Oh, believe me. I dared this fucker to go to Taipei and start calling everyone there Chinese.
“Oh my God, who cares? Tell me what the instructions say before I get canned.”
He was going to get canned anyway! By me!
“I can’t read this.” I barely gave the form a cursory glance. “You should call your office and get whoever failed to include the translation to tell you what it says.” That’s what I would have done! Then I would in
sist that this ass and the one who forgot the translation be fired!
“You sure you can’t?” Aiden asked from his seat. “I heard you speaking some Mandarin the other day on the phone.”
That had been a brief courtesy call to my aunt in Taipei! The one who speaks enough English to tell me how I’m fucking up what little Mandarin I actually know! Why was this douche listening in on my personal conversations during lunch? I had been telling Aunt Melanie about my new job in the hopes she would pass the praise on to my father.
“Reading and speaking are two entirely different beasts,” I said through clenched teeth. “Besides! I’m part Taiwanese. They use traditional Chinese characters there. Mainland China simplified them, and this is simplified Chinese.” Trust me, just because I can’t read simplified Chinese doesn’t mean I can’t recognize it.
“Wow. That’s crazy.”
“You know what?” The courier threw his hands up in the air. “Fine. I’ll call my supervisor. Thanks for the help.”
He didn’t say anything more, but I could see it in his big blue eyes. “You’re the dumbest Asian I’ve ever met. Aren’t you supposed to be a genius?”
I slammed my pen down and flung myself back in my swivel chair. The joints squealed in horror as I got up so quickly that I nearly knocked it over.
“Piece of advice,” I said, now garnering the attention of every other person in the office, “Don’t go around assuming those things about people, regardless of what they look like.”
The courier didn’t respond as he hurried out of the office. Jimmy shot her Ice Queen glare in my direction, and I shot one right back at her. So much for solidarity.
“Ms. Chen.”
Speaking of freezing, that’s exactly what I did when I heard Mr. Mann’s voice behind me.
I knew before I turned around that he was not happy. Why would he be happy? I had caused a scene in his office.
“Yes, sir?” I kept my voice as steady as possible. No easy feat after what had happened and how nervous I was now.
Eric hooked his finger and furrowed his dark brows. “In here. Now.”
Aiden let out a low whistle as I went forward as if nothing were amiss and Mr. Mann were simply calling me in to delegate a last-minute task.
Never mind this was my first time in his office… alone with him, that was.
I swallowed my pride, and some of my common sense, the moment he slammed his door shut behind me.
“What the hell was that?”
My hands fumbled together until I finally regained control of their nonsense. “I apologize, sir. That was way out of line.”
“You caused a scene in my office.”
I inhaled the deepest breath I could muster. This was, after all, the moment I dread the most working in an office.
The one where I have to defend my own honor, even if it might cost me my job. Balancing who I am with who I aspire to be is never easy. Sometimes I make dumb decisions when passion gets the best of me. I’m not talking about smacking down an idiot like that courier.
“I most certainly did, sir.” That’s right. Own it. Isn’t that something he would have recommended in his book? The one I kept a copy of on my bedroom bookcase?
He leveled his gaze at me as he leaned against his desk. Arms crossed. So did his ankles. The man staring me down was either going to fire me or commend me.
“You’re not going to apologize?”
I refrained from biting my lip, although my teeth begged to graze against my drying mouth. “No, sir,” I said, a whimper threatening to pop out of my throat. “I don’t believe I have a reason to.”
His countenance softened, but he did not straighten his posture. “Interesting. What would you say that confrontation was about?”
I took a step back. Quite involuntarily, mind you. It was either that or trip over my own feet. “The man was being ridiculous and offensive, to both myself and Ms. Cho. I know that this is your office, sir, but I will not personally tolerate…”
“You’re right. This is my office.” He lowered his arms as soon as he interrupted me. Typical man. Wouldn’t even let me finish. “And you contributed to a disruption.”
I wanted to say I didn’t start it! but knew better. Even though it was really, really true.
“That said, I would have done the same thing had I been in your shoes.”
I didn’t feel better that he said that. If anything, I was only more confused. “Is that so, sir?” He knew what it was like to be an Asian woman, huh?
Eric absentmindedly scratched his collar bone beneath his silk shirt. A hint of smooth skin, blemish and hair free, distracted me for a second. Damn me. Even now, looking back at one of the most pivotal moments of my life, I still chastise myself for lusting after my boss when trying to stand up for myself.
He put his hands back down on his desk. His long, slender fingers brushed against a silver frame holding a photograph of two young children dressed in Easter clothing. A girl in a frilly white dress. A boy in a tailored mini-suit. I didn’t have to ask. That was a photograph of a very young Eric and his twin sister.
Everyone knew he had a sister. Everyone also knew that she died shortly after that picture was taken.
“If there’s one thing I stress to those working for me, whether directly under my command or through corporate memos, it’s that I will not tolerate offensive attitudes or ideas in my office. This includes egregious racism. I call this approach the…”
“The Manning Mandate,” I interrupted, somewhat in awe. That was the title of chapter 9 in Manning Up, one I had reread so many times that my personal copy was coming apart at the binding and my digital copy had so many highlights that I could no longer tell where one began and ended.
Eric didn’t chastise me for interrupting him. Instead, he cocked his head in disbelief. “You’ve read my book?”
“With all due respect, sir,” I said, “I don’t think there’s a single MBA in America who hasn’t read your book. There are classes taught about it at the graduate level.”
“Huh. My publisher never told me that.” I received an uncharacteristic smile. If there was one thing people often said about Eric Mann’s appearance, it was that he rarely smiled, or showed any other kind of happiness in public. Anonymous friends told interviewers that Eric had a warm personality in the home. Nobody had ever seen it in public, outside of him holding open the car door for his occasional female date. “But yes. It’s something I strongly believe in. Besides that courier’s incredible misconduct, the only thing that truly disappoints me about this situation is that nobody else said anything. Ms. Cho has complained about those attitudes before, but… I’m getting off track. Point is, Ms. Chen, I admire and commend you for standing up for yourself out there.”
My chest involuntarily puffed out as my feet performed a sloppy dance of excitement. “Th… thank you, sir. That means so much coming from…”
“Ms. Chen.”
I snapped back to attention. “Yes?” My voice wanted to cut him open. I telepathically dared him to suggest that I had somehow been in the wrong to castrate that asshole who dared to come up to my desk…
“Did you hear me? I said I would personally call the courier company and lodge a complaint against that employee. Look,” he pushed off the antique desk and approached me, arms still crossed. “I know you’re angry.”
His empty words didn’t bother me as much this time. Because my stupid brain could only focus on the sweet scent of jasmine emanating from his body. Cologne? Aftershave? Shampoo? My nose, my whole torso tingled to detect that floral scent blooming on a man I was already inappropriately attracted to.
“Please, in the future, if something like that happens again, either come directly to me or Ms. Pentecost. If neither of us are around…”
Someone had heard her name.
“Eric!” The door swung open, that head of gold barreling in. Dry-cleaning bags wrinkled over her arm. “What happened? I heard that…” She saw me and stopped, her chest heaving pani
cked breaths and her red lips hanging open as if she witnessed us making out on the 17th century furniture.
“It’s been taken care of. Please. No worries, Ms. Pentecost.” Eric walked toward Brooke. The look they shared went right over my head.
Not that I didn’t notice it. But I had not yet learned to read that look.
The ensuing silence as they mentally argued with one another was stifling enough to choke me. Brooke had left the door open, and I caught a glimpse of Aiden Webb fucking around on Facebook.
The damn nerve…
“Anyway.” Brooke was the first one to crack. “Let me get these sorted with Lisbeth and we can prepare for the meeting in an hour.”
Eric caught us both off guard. “Have you heard back from the Association of Personal Assistants?”
Brooke sighed. “No, sir. They still have yet to find you a replacement for next month’s charity dinner.”
Our boss studied me. He hadn’t yet dismissed me, so I was not wont to bail back to my desk even though the topic had clearly changed. Whatever he had wanted to say to me before Brooke barged in was now lost to the wind. “Why not let Ms. Chen accompany me?”
Brooke and I responded at the same time.
“Accompany you where?”
“That’s absurd. She’s an intern, and a green one at that.”
Was that jealousy in her voice? I barely knew what was going on, yet I definitely recognized someone else in the room being quite green.
“It’s not like it will make or break my career.” Eric returned to his desk. “Ms. Chen has shown exemplary skills already. She’s learned your shorthand since Monday, hasn’t she? Who else ever learned to do that, let alone in a week?”
“Eric, I mean Mr. Mann…”
“One month is certainly enough time to train her to meet our standards for one weekend trip to San Francisco.”
Brooke gritted her teeth. I still had no idea what was going on.