“Um. Well he said to come talk to you…”
“Good.” Janice stood like a general about to stride into battle. “Follow me.”
I couldn’t imagine refusing her. The tour was quick. Main conference room. Secondary conference room. Bathrooms. Break room. She listed names of executives I should know and I tried to keep up, but most left my brain as soon as she said them. She walked fast and talked faster and every passing moment seemed to be squeezed for its maximum output. By the time we arrived back at my desk in front of Sam’s door, I felt a bit light-headed.
“Here’s a list I made of the most pressing issues Mr. Callahan is dealing with,” she said, passing me a stack of papers. “You have access to everything in the computer including his calendar and contact list. Do you have any questions?”
Am I going to survive?
“Not that I can think of,” I said.
“Good. Now listen to me,” Janice said. “Mr. Callahan is demanding, but he won’t ask more of you than any reasonable boss will. There won’t be any surprises or hidden tests. He’s a blunt man and when he’s unhappy he’ll let you know to your face.”
“And when he’s happy?” I asked.
Janice looked over her glasses like she was trying to decide if I was making a joke. “If he’s happy, you’ll have a job,” she said flatly. “And please try to keep it that way. If not for your own sake, then for mine. This is going to be a hell of a quarter and I don’t have the energy to support Mr. Callahan on top of assisting Cordon.”
“I’ll do my best,” I promised.
Janice pursed her lips. “If history’s any indication, you’re going to have to do better then that.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but thankfully, I didn’t have to. A heavy-set, bearded man appeared at the end of the hall and gestured wildly to Janice before disappearing around the corner without a word.
“Cordon,” Janice said as a way of explanation. “I have to go.” She walked toward the hallway, but turned right before exiting. She gave me a small smile. “Good luck,” she said before leaving me alone to fend for myself.
The desk was outfitted with basic office supplies, a computer, a phone. I’d been a personal assistant to an executive in college by happenstance and I’d learned how to use an intercom system along with a variety of other PA skills I hoped would come in handy. I wasn’t entirely sure how much overlap there would be, but it couldn’t be too different, could it? Random low-level company in Kentucky versus multi-million dollar real estate conglomerate in New York City?
I got a sinking feeling that I was fucked.
I brushed it aside as quickly as it surfaced. I was in too deep now to turn around. I had to give this a shot.
I sat down behind the desk. The chair was pretty comfortable. There, one success. I managed to turn the computer on and get it booted up. Another success. If I started small and counted them up at the end of the day, they might merge into one large accomplishment that I could be proud of.
After I got the computer up and going, I started to familiarize myself with Sam’s schedule. It seemed he spent about ninety percent of his work day in meetings. Meetings with investors, meetings with board members, meetings with the design teams and other employees. Lunch meetings, dinner meetings, even a brunch meeting penciled in for Tuesday. Sam’s entire job seemed to be talking to people.
One of the notes Janice left me was to reserve a table at a restaurant called The Georgia Convention which seemed easy enough until I called and was told that they didn’t have anything available until October. I made a note to ask Sam what his second choice was and continued down the list.
I worked steadily through the morning, answering the phone, familiarizing myself with the computer, catching up on Janice’s list, and holding my breath waiting for something to go wrong. Surprisingly, I was finding myself capable. I hoped it would last.
At some point between tasks, I did a quick Google search of Sam and his company. The first article I found was extensive.
The Callahan Company was created in 2014 by the then twenty-six-year-old Samuel Callahan. Starting with flipping houses and condos in New Jersey and the greater New York area, The Callahan Company expanded quickly to luxury apartment buildings and offices. My eyes scanned the article that talked a lot about housing prices and the real estate market until I saw Sam’s name again. The sentence attached I had to read several times in order to fully comprehend. As of 2020, Samuel Callahan has an estimated net worth of 2.2 billion dollars.
I gaped at the figure. 2.2 billion? BILLION? That couldn’t be right. But on further investigation, it turned out that yes, Sam in fact was worth over two billion dollars in shares and property. I couldn’t believe it, even with the proof staring me in the face. I recalled the apartment I’d fled this morning. It had been nice, modern, but not at all where I’d expect a billionaire to live. Maybe he was the type of billionaire to live simply. But then I remembered how expensive his suits looked and realized the more likely scenario: He probably had an apartment in the area specifically to bring women home to.
God, what an ass.
Speaking of asses, my phone lit up again, but I ignored it. It was Troy texting again. I’d gotten three calls and about twenty more texts since I’d ignored him yesterday. They started in a similar vein, but quickly derailed the longer I ignored him. First telling me that it would be all right, that he wasn’t going to get in trouble for what he did, but, in the typical Troy fashion, as he started to realize he wasn’t going to get his way, the texts changed to name-calling and hysterics. The last one I’d bothered to read had gone a little something like Fuck you, you whore. You were never good enough for me anyway. You better not even try to come back here. I had no idea how someone could be so delusional. But honestly if he was able to convince himself that I was the loser here, it was fine by me. I was washing my hands of our relationship. I was moving on. Ironically, moving on to someone even richer than Troy was. What were the odds that the first person I hooked up with in New York was a billionaire when I’d specifically left my hometown to escape the trap of money and greed? Too great.
I didn’t have time to ponder the mysteries of life though because the arrival of a visitor disrupted my thoughts.
“Tell Sam that Tom is here to talk to him,” the suit before me said. I had to physically lean back in my chair to stare up at him. He was impressively tall, six foot six or more, and his piercing gray eyes stared down at me like a bird of prey atop a high perch. Though his hair had probably been gray for two decades and lines crossed his face, those eyes held the cunning and intelligence of a man a quarter his age. I felt small in his shadow and tried not to let it show as I pressed the button for the intercom.
“Mr. Callahan,” I said. “Tom is here to see you.”
Sam didn’t respond. After a moment, the door to his office swung open and he appeared in the doorway. Watching the two men size each other up was like seeing two wolves face off over prey. There was an icy respect in Sam’s eyes, but he looked far from pleased to see Tom.
“Come in,” he said. “I assume this is about—”
I didn’t get to hear what it was about because the door shut firmly behind them and cut off all words. I wished I could be in the office just to see what was going to go down. As if turned out, I didn’t have to be. After about ten minutes, I heard the sound of raised voices and strained to listen.
Then the door flew open and Tom stormed out. He stopped at the entrance of the hall and turned to face Sam who’d appeared in his doorway. “I won’t have you waste the shareholders’ money on hunches and schemes,” Tom thundered.
Sam leaned against the door frame. He spoke quieter, but his voice carried all the menace of his adversary. “It might not be up to you,” he said.
“We’ll see about that,” Tom said and disappeared down the hall.
What the hell was that about? I wondered. I looked at Sam who was still staring at where Tom had last been. His jaw worked in ir
ritation. After a long moment, he looked over at me as if just remembering that I was there.
“Ten piece meal from The Land of the Rising Sun,” he said with zero emotion.
“What?” I asked.
He stared at me. “Sushi. My lunch?”
“Oh. Right.”
He turned and went back into his office. “Don’t let anyone bother me for any reason,” he said as he left.
Okay then. I did some digging and found a Japanese place, The House of the Rising Sun, not far from here. I ordered him his food and phoned an intern to pick it up and deliver it to him. I had my own lunch starting in a couple minutes and I was about to see if my first impression of Harriet was accurate.
CHAPTER FIVE
Beck
Harriet turned out to be everything that I suspected and more. She and her posse of model-tall sparrows fluttered around me smiling engineered teeth and flapping designer handbags. On the elevator, they rapid-fired statements disguised as questions — I looove your accent. I’ve never heard anything like it? I knooow right? I can’t believe it either? It’s sooo cute! — that seemed more directed at each other than at me. The extended o’s made them sound like they were slowly and happily slipping into sedation.
Eventually they lost interest in me and converged as a group on where they’d left off in the narrative. The prevailing issue seemed to be that one (I still hadn’t gotten any of their names at this point) had a boyfriend who was a dick, but, at the same time, had a dick that she described as “my personal Shangri-la, the perfect shape, the perfect size, perfect really in every way except for the fact that it’s attached to Mike”. That got a sigh of sympathy from the flock and an extended debate of the pros and cons of having a side piece all the way through the line at the deli.
“Are you seeing anyone, June?” I was watching the cars pass and didn’t realize I’d been spoken to until the conversation halted.
“It’s Beck,” I said, wondering why they kept calling me that. The correction passed deaf ears. “And…” My mind unwillingly shot to Sam before I had the chance to reign it back in. “No,” I said firmly. “I actually just broke up with him, my fiance actually.”
Four heads drew closer as one at the promise of a juicy story.
“What happened?” Harriet demanded.
I had center stage, but I was reluctant to confide in these unfamiliar women. I didn’t really want my personal details floating around the office for one. And besides, my separation from Troy might have had a flashy ending, but the real root of it extended back years. And how could you really explain the subtle shift of a personality, changing day by day until one morning you find yourself waking up beside a stranger, unsure of which of you had changed?
And on the other hand, telling them that Troy ran over a person with his truck seemed a little graphic for lunch.
“We just didn’t work out,” I said. Then I took a large bite of my chicken sandwich to discourage a followup.
They looked disappointed, but recovered easily and moved on to other, more interesting, areas of conversation, ignoring me once again. Lunch was beginning to come to a close and I realized that I hadn’t gotten anything meaningful out of these girls at all. The gossip I wanted was about Sam and time was running out. I didn’t want to have to sit through this again so I looked for a way to sneak it into the conversation.
One whose name I’d figured out to be Ashley was mid-complaint about her hairdresser’s long fingernails and how they had scratched the back of her ear and if she should sue or not when I noticed the other three’s interest was wavering. I made my move, interjecting when Ashley paused for air.
“What’s Mr. Callahan like?” I asked. All their eyes immediately shot to me like they’d forgotten I was there. There was a pause as if they were considering whether or not to answer my question or to ignore my social faux pas of speaking when I hadn’t been spoken to.
I’m sure they would have moved on without answering, but none of them could be silent for very long and even Ashley had forgotten about her story in the few seconds that had passed.
“Mr. Callahan is a hunk,” Amber said and the silence snapped. The other girls nodded in dreamy agreement.
“Those blue eyes…”
“The hair… I just want to run my hands through it.”
“That body? How is it even real?”
The girls launched into a new topic, one that they fell into with such an easy familiarity that I suspected it was a common topic around the lunch table. Unfortunately, the conversation didn’t go much further beyond Sam’s level of attractiveness, something I knew perfectly well already.
“What do you think about him?” I realized that Ashley was looking at me. Uh oh. My question might have been a good one, entrenching me further with this flock of vapid birds. They might suspect that I had something in common with them. Though, in a way, this might be the singular ground on which I could stand with them. But I wasn’t in the mood to spend every afternoon surrounded by white teeth and high-pitched, judging voices.
“I don’t know,” I said. “He’s okay, I guess.” I could feel the ax fall across my neck. The four stared at me, shocked twice in one conversation into silence. All of them looked disgusted, as if I’d been the one describing how I wanted to run my tongue over my boss’s abs (that had been Harriet). Then as one, they turned back to each other and returned to ignoring me. I got the triumphant feeling that I’d blown it. They wouldn’t be asking me to lunch again.
If only they could see into my mind and learn how I’d spent my time last night. I considered regaling them with the story, the unbelievable coincidence, just to see the looks on their faces. But they’d probably think I was lying. It wasn’t like Sam would confirm it. The brief moment of pleasure I’d get wouldn’t be worth the rumors that would fly around the office. But it was fun to fantasize as I ate my sandwich in silence and wondered what Alice was up to.
I got back to my desk a little before one o’clock. I’d barely sat down when Sam’s voice came over the intercom.
“Please come in here, Beck.”
His tone was icy and I immediately got a sinking sense that I’d messed up somehow. I stood and went into the office, bracing myself for what was to come.
Sam didn’t look particularly angry, just serious and stern. What could I have screwed up already? I’d thought I’d done quite well this morning considering how long it’d been since I’d worked in an office.
“What is that?” he asked, nodding his head at his desk. In the center of the oak expanse was a container of sushi, the lunch I’d ordered him.
“Your lunch?” I asked.
“What did I ask you for?”
I wasn’t liking this at all. Just tell me what that hell I’d done wrong and skip the twenty questions bullshit. I bit back the sarcastic response and tried, “Sushi?”
“Be more specific.”
My hands found my hips. “You want to get to the point? I have a lot to do.” Oops.
He stiffened and sat forward in his chair, but still his face stayed mostly impassive. It was a little creepy. “I believe,” he said, “that I specifically asked for sushi from The Land of the Rising Sun.”
My brow furrowed. “What’s the matter? That—” I stopped when my eyes trained on the logo adorning the side of the carton. The House of the Rising Sun. Oh.
“Exactly,” Sam said. “Do you see the difference now?”
I knew I was in the wrong, yet standing trapped in his glare, I couldn’t help but get defensive. “Okay, I see the mistake, but how should I know that there are two different sushi places with practically the same name?” I winced at the sound of my words. Shut up, Beck!
“You don’t have to know. You have to assume that there are a hundred thousand and one different places to eat in this city and some of them have similar names. You have to listen to what I say, when I say it, and learn how to follow exact instruction.” He scolded me like a teacher to a student and it angered me.
&
nbsp; “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll get it right next time. But it’s just a lunch. You don’t have to be so condescending.”
Sam sat back in his chair and examined me with those piercing blue eyes. Finally he said, “I know it’s just a lunch and to be honest the type of sushi I eat doesn’t really matter to me. I’m not that particular about my food. However, if you’re going to be my assistant then I need to know that when I speak, you listen. And, just as importantly, that when I need you, you’re there. Where have you been for the past hour?”
“I was invited to lunch by some girls in your office. I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to leave the office for my lunch break.”
“If I stay through lunch than you stay through lunch,” Sam said. “There’s a lot going on right now and we don’t have the luxury to pop off whenever we want like the office girls can. I’m depending on you to make my life easier and I’d appreciate it if you would do that. This morning hasn’t been great and this isn’t the best time for incompetence. If you don’t start shaping up, then I’m going to suspect that I made a mistake in keeping you on. Don’t make me reconsider.”
The steely ease of his words was worse than if he was yelling. Anger was something I was used to. This? I didn’t know what it was, only that it was stone-cold. I had a hard time recognizing the calculating man sitting in front of me with the passionate lover who’d ignited me last night.
He was right though. I’d messed up and getting defensive wasn’t going to take me far here. So I swallowed my pride and nodded. “I’ll be better,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “Don’t apologize. Just do it.”
* * *
“There she is,” Alice said as I hauled myself through the door of the apartment sometime around six. I’d just fought the crowds and the really confusing subway system back home and felt dirty, stressed, and exhausted. Alice’s smile slipped when she saw my face. “Do I want to know?” she asked with a grimace.
I threw my bag down and joined her on the couch, sinking into the plush and hoping a shower and twelve hours of unconsciousness would erase the day from my mind.
The Boss (Billionaires of Club Tempest #1) Page 5