I’m smart and talented, and I scare more men than a vasectomy without anesthesia.
“Let me repeat this to be sure I understand what you’re telling me.” I tapped my fingernails on the rim of the generic white coffee cup and tried not to laugh in his face. “You’ve found a new financial management company?” He nodded eagerly. “And they’ve come up with a new and better way to predict the market.” Nod, nod. What a moron. “And you think I should invest in it?”
My date’s blond hair flopped over his eyebrows, he nodded so enthusiastically.
No point in even bothering to try to hide the incredulous tone in my voice now. “And the minimum deposit is fifty thousand dollars?”
Mitch and I had hit it off well enough at the speed date last night. I’d been hoping it might turn into something more than a few awkward minutes in the middle of a night chock full of blunders.
Last night, while we’d still been hopeful idiots, we’d made arrangements to meet for breakfast, and I’d gotten up a whole stinking hour early just to straighten my hair into a sleek knot. The springy black waves had nearly defeated my try at smooth. Bits had already begun working their way loose, but, meh, no loss. This man was either a shill or a fool. Honestly, I was slightly more irritated that I’d gotten so dressed up. As I listened to him talk, I shook my head. Nope. I was definitely more irritated at the equivalent of a bad timeshare he was trying to sell me. This horrible pitch was worse. At least I looked pretty dang good as I prepared to slap ol’ Mitch down.
“Yes, Andromeda. What do you think?” Mitch’s confident smile had gained a fixed quality at my sarcastic tone. The grin reminded me of my nephew, pretending he hadn’t taken a cookie while the crumbs were still all over his mouth. Ingratiating and a little scared. That smile meant he knew he was in trouble, but he also knew that his only chance at pulling this off was staying confident in his answer. Even if that answer was totally wrong.
What’s even wronger than wrong? Insult. That was the word. This was an insult.
On a toddler, that look might be cute. On a grown man, not so much. Mitch’s hazel eyes flicked from side to side, their light color harmonizing with his tan and well-styled streaked blond hair. An excellent styling job: his clothing, casual but upscale, completed the picture of an affluent man without cares. He was well put together.
Pity he’d just tried to sell me on a terribly concealed Ponzi scheme. No doubt that the whole persona of a man in control was the front he affected in order to lure into his scheme, probably women that looked at him and saw an attractive, potentially rich man and wanted to please him in order to gain more of his attention. His attention wasn’t something I cared to have. Too bad for him.
Leaning forward, I batted my eyelashes. “I think that a guaranteed thirty percent return yearly for the next ten years shows that you think I’m either greedy, an idiot, or probably both. Please, illuminate me more on this, ah, opportunity.” Leaning back, I smiled at him, eating another bite of my pecan and strawberry oatmeal.
The bacon and eggs on Mitch’s plate were my heart’s love, but unfortunately not my waistline’s. That, too, might have contributed to the sharpness in my tone. I wanted to snatch his bacon.
Not his proverbial bacon. Don’t be dirty. His literal bacon.
The poor schmuck spluttered, staring at me in shock. No doubt he wasn’t used to someone seeing straight through his load of crap, and even less so when it came to someone telling him that it was a bum deal. Bonus points for me being a woman. “I’ve invested my personal assets there,” he said in a whining, defensive tone. “It’s real.” Leaning back, he narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice. “I was trying to help you out.”
Oh, my hero. Be still my heart. “Kind of you. If it’s true, and not you trying to scam me on your own, I’d suggest you get out of it as soon as possible.” I slid out of the booth, the hem of my white maxi sundress floating around my ankles and playing peekaboo with my favorite gold ankle bracelet. I was 5’1, but the heels gave me another three inches of height, and I liked long skirts. The white contrasted with my skin, giving it a bit of a glow. I’d worn one of my favorite outfits for this dud of a date, but I looked better than usual, so maybe this hadn’t been a total waste of time.
“You’re leaving?” Man, he really didn’t take rejection well.
“Yeah, sorry bud, but I don’t think we’ll suit. I’ll pick up the check. It looks like you’ll need all your liquid cash soon.” I grabbed the paper on the corner of the table and whirled around to walk toward the register near the door.
There hadn’t even been a quick lay before he’d tried his pitch.
Ugh. This was the third date gone all wrong in as many weeks, and I was beginning to wonder if I’d been put under some kind of curse of loser attraction. If so, could someone put me out of my misery and just tell me so that I didn’t have to keep wasting my time on guys like this? I could’ve still been at home in bed. I had a great book I was dying to dive into.
Or sleeping. Probably sleeping.
The little café, located on the ground floor of the building where I worked, had seemed an ideal location. I’d expected the date to last long enough for me to head to work after, but it looked like I’d be putting in a little extra time this week. No point in going home just to turn around and come right back.
After paying, I strode for the elevator, catching it just as it opened, and stared at the doors, avoiding enticing conversation from the other occupant, a silver-haired man about my age.
The hair color suited him, contrasting with his mature—though not old—face and frame. The color wasn’t found often in nature and had likely come from a box, which I didn’t mind at all. I enjoyed the scenery from the corner of my eye as the elevator whisked us upward. He put off some sort of spine-tingling aura or something, cause I felt electrified just being beside him. Weird.
A lack of caffeine distracted me from my shivers, as I hadn’t yet had a chance to drink more than a sip of coffee before More-Money-Mitch had begun his spiel. I sighed at the thought of the pot that was likely ready at the office. The receptionist, June, made it in exchange for me and my coworkers providing the coffee, which worked for all sides.
I bade my elevator companion goodbye with a glance and nod, then walked into the office. Yolande, our HR rep, stood enjoying her java and the view out of the window in the reception area. She glanced in my direction and raised her brows as I walked in. “Date this morning?”
It wasn’t my first failed breakfast date at the downstairs diner. “Yes.” I shrugged. “The lucky streak continues.”
She gave a breath of a laugh, then headed for the office she shared with Trevor, our IT guy. He was likely already hard at work. It was almost eight, but he was usually in by six, checking to see if there had been any reputation disasters overnight.
RepuPair contracted with celebrities and companies facing fallout from many kinds of unwise decisions that became public. We worked to give our clients back a façade of good behavior—though in some cases that façade was paper thin.
I went into my office, warm mug in hand. It was reduced caffeine, but I’d take it. Anything would help at this point.
Compared to reception, my view wasn’t as good from the narrow window, but the door and the desk made up for it. One I could close for some privacy and the other was big, with lots of drawers and a cushy chair.
Bottom line, my office was comfortable.
The potted miniature sunflowers I’d brought in yesterday made a nice pop of yellow against the sleek black and chrome. I kept other personal items to a minimum: a box of tissues and a small picture of kittens and puppies snoozing together. The concentrated cuteness took the edge off and helped me stay calm when I wanted to start shouting at someone.
Damn temper had gotten me in trouble since early childhood.
I settled into my chair, took a sip of coffee with a relieved sigh, opened my email, and sighed again in a not-so-relieved kind of way. Over five hundred messages. Someone had been naughty last night. All of the notifications were about comments and shares of social media posts or news articles about or by our clients.
Sure enough, one of our clients, a bonafide rockstar, had put up an Instagram post that he hadn’t run by us first. I made a note on a sticky pad next to my keyboard. If I remembered his contract correctly, he owed us a fee for breaking our social media clause.
He could have all the views and opinions he wanted to…just not where they impacted his brand while we were working to rehabilitate it. He, like some of our more difficult clients, didn’t seem to realize that rebelling against us while we were trying to dig them out of a hole was only kicking dirt right back in.
Trevor was doing his IT thing, already trying to bury mention of the post. It had been deleted, of course, but screenshots had been taken while it was still up. Such was the nature of the internet. I moaned and sipped my coffee again, hoping for some liquid fortification.
This particular client was more work than he was worth, and his views infuriated me—I didn’t like his attitude about women and mental illness—but Franklin, the company founder, insisted we keep him.
Four hours later, I could no longer ignore the siren song of the coffee pot and a third cup. Between Trevor and me, the crisis of the morning had been reduced to manageable levels, and I hadn’t yet had to call in any favors to see if I could keep it off the major news distributors. I knew several influencers who were usually willing to do something controversial for me to light a counterfire. It helped them and me. I saw to it that the majority of the attention was positive. And it usually drove the indiscretion I was covering out of the spotlight.
A quick check on my hair in the small mirror on my door before I went out revealed it had gone from sleek to casually tumbled. Eh, well. Not the ultra professional image I wanted to project, but nothing to be done about it on such a busy day.
The pot had only a thin layer of coffee in it. I held it up, looking sad, and glanced at June in hopes she had a miracle pot up her sleeve.
She met my gaze, obviously waiting, and finally said, “We’re out of coffee beans. You forgot to bring a bag, and it’s your turn.”
Oops. “That means we’re going to have caffeinated coffee for the next week.” At least there would be full energy…once I brought it in.
She laughed. It was a running joke amongst my coworkers that I was better off on decaf. Trevor often commented, “It has the same full rich taste.” Which I thought was from a movie or maybe commercial, but wasn’t sure. Wherever it was from, it was a damnable lie.
Stretching my legs would be nice, too, once I finished the emails. Standing in front of the woefully empty pot, I texted Trevor and Yolande. Going on a coffee run in fifteen. Let me know what you want. I told Jane the same as I typed on my phone’s screen.
She smiled at me and shook her head, used to my antics.
I settled back at my desk, working my way through the remaining, now blessedly small, list of emails.
My door opened, interrupting my flow.
I glared in that general direction. People didn’t normally disturb me when I was working, and I wanted to keep it that way.
Franklin walked in. He was short, only a few inches taller than me. Once, he’d been athletic but had since run to a nice layer of fat. Not that I minded the extra padding. He was still attractive, until his personality ruined it. His bespoke suit concealed it well, tried to make him appear taller, and generally spoke well of his choice of tailors.
The man could charm the scales off a snake if he wanted. It helped that he was about as trustworthy as most people thought of snakes being. We’d disliked each other from the day my sister introduced him as her fiancé, and ten years of him being my brother-in-law hadn’t lessened the feeling one whit. I worked here because my sister had begged me to when he’d started the firm, and because he interacted well with men of certain views…the ones that I didn’t work well with at all.
I still wanted a different job, but whenever I’d made noises about it, my sister would cry. And I was a sucker who fell for the tears every time, no matter how many times I told myself I wouldn’t or how I felt in the span of time between each tearful conversation. She was my sister and I loved her, sometimes to my own chagrin.
The broad smile on Franklin’s square face boded well for no one, especially me. He only pulled out that smile when a questionable deal was in the air, and I’d learned I had to dig my heels in more often than not. Thankfully, I was a pretty strong woman, and however much I hated it, I was capable of dealing with my smarmy brother-in-law.
I turned away from the computer, kept my booty firmly planted in my chair, and folded my arms, waiting for his proclamation.
He walked over and leaned a hip against my desk, just out of my personal bubble. Franklin was a lot of things, not many of them flattering, but at least he was smart enough to have learned not to get into my space. “Andi, the company’s been approached by a new account.” He hit me with that smile again, the one that said he believed in me.
Pfft. My left titty.
“It’s one that your unique talents would do very well for.” Every square inch of his stance spoke of confidence and warmth. Franklin was laying it on thick this time.
Too bad for him he’d done it one too many times. “Franklin, I’m swamped. I’m handling all the clients’ PR remediations, and I’ve told you there are only so many hours in a day. If you want to add clients, you’re going to need to add staff.” There. Put that in your smile and poke it.
That had always served to stop him before. Franklin loved the profit and didn’t want to take the hit to them that a new hire’s salary and benefits would entail. Even June helped out with some of the less complicated parts of repairing reputations, as did Yolande, despite the fact that it wasn’t supposed to be a part of their job descriptions.
Yolande had actually been hired when I’d told him it was that or I’d be going directly to my sister over his suggestion we become closer friends. Before that time, the receptionists had all been young, pretty, and left after about three months with a decent severance check. I’d tried to tell Cassie, but she wouldn’t listen and had gotten angry with me for misinterpreting Franklin’s friendliness.
The fight had turned a bit ugly then. College days and serial boyfriends of mine had been brought up. Neither of us had ever had great taste in men. I was just able to admit it, while she’d married her mistake and refused to give it up.
And then, she’d lost their baby, only a year after they were married. It had nearly broken her. I’d promised I would always be there for her, and I kept my promises. She was stuck with this buttface, and I’d be there for her through it.
Franklin’s smile grew even broader, his pale brown eyes twinkling, projecting an air of amused trustworthiness.
Oh, no. Sorry, fella. Not falling for it. I knew him too well for that.
He sucked in a deep breath and crossed his arms, his expression elevating into smug. Now my suspicions were well and truly up. “Actually, I’m interviewing several people today.” He leaned in almost conspiratorially. “I’d really like for you to concentrate your energies on this account. It’s large and very complex. The fees will take my company up to the next level.
Hmph. His company. Despite the fact that I did most of the work.
Again, he leaned forward, eyes intent on my own. Franklin had learned not to touch me to emphasize his words a long time ago, thankfully. Smart man, because if he tried to touch me, I was pretty sure that he wasn’t going to get that appendage back, whatever it happened to be. He was getting a little close for comfort. A bit too much inside my bubble. I didn’t want to have to explain to my sister that I’d maimed her husband because he’d gotten handsy with me. No doubt that would be misinterpreting his friendliness again.
The whiff of danger hit my sixth sense. “Really.” I narrowed my eyes at my brother-in-law and pushed my chair back a little, uncomfortable being so close to him. “This isn’t someone involved in illegal activities, right?”
Franklin flushed. I hadn’t let him live down the time that he tried to get me to do PR for a cartel head, mostly lying about who it was. I had my limits, and basic research had easily revealed the client’s identity and what they did for a living. I’d reinforced my hard lines to Franklin in exquisite detail that day. Some might say I’d lost my temper, but since no punching had been involved, I believed it should’ve been classified as an upset. A snit, if you will.
Dropping the fake smile, Franklin glared back at me. Clearly, he’d figured out that I was not feeling this account, and I certainly didn’t believe that I could trust him. If I couldn’t trust him, then how was I supposed to trust this client who he was trying so hard to shove down my throat? “Of course not. The client is secretive, however, and wants to meet with you in person, with no recording devices present. He is willing to allow pen and paper though. After you sign an NDA.”
Oh, really? An NDA… My eyebrows shot up. Needing an NDA for an initial meeting was weird, although not the strangest request we’d ever gotten by far. “Not a stylus and a wax tablet?” I pointed at my brother-in-law. “I’m not signing anything I haven’t read.”
Franklin shook his head. “It’s a multi-million dollar account. I’m telling you. We all need you to take it. The NDA is in the email I’ve just sent you, read it all you want to.”
I sighed. If it was a multi-million dollar account, I had to at least consider it. “I’m going to do due diligence on the account before I agree.”
After the cartel incident, Cassie bawling and pointing out the company would go under if I didn’t stay had been the only thing that had kept me from quitting. I’d insisted on the right to refuse assignments as part of my job description after that. I loved my sister to death, but I refused to be involved with any kind of activities that would make me unable to look in a mirror. The company could suffer before I’d give up my integrity.
“Fine.” Franklin heaved himself to his feet, a frown darkening his face. “I want you to decide by midnight tonight. When you make the right decision, wrap up the other accounts so someone else can handle them.” He strode out, closing my door with a small slam, as if that show of force would somehow change my mind. Pfft.
Although… The schedule looked like he might actually be interviewing. That was a first. Could this be legit this time? I’d see and get all the information I could before making any sort of decision.
I finished the morning’s work and opened the NDA that, for a wonder, actually was in my email, then decided coffee was in order before reading it. Grabbing my purse, I headed out but then noticed something on the floor. Franklin must’ve dropped an object near the door on his way out. I bent to grab it. Odd. A string of onyx worry beads.
My fingers flinched from the feel of them when I picked the strand up. Sticky and unpleasant—what on earth was on Franklin’s hands? Freaking gross. Pulling a plastic bag from a desk drawer, I dropped them in it and left the bag on my desk to pass to him later.
The others had texted their orders to me, but I paused by June’s desk on the way out. “Do you want anything from the coffee shop downstairs?”
“A chai latte, please.” She smiled up at me gratefully. “Thanks.”
Grateful was a bit much. It was my fault we were out, after all.
I barely made it to the elevator before it closed, sliding between the doors like in a comedy movie. The only other occupant, the silver-haired man from earlier, and I did the awkward not-quite-meeting-eyes-or-speaking thing. Hmmm. Who’d he been on that floor to see, the engineering group or the medical billing?
He was quite tall, one of my pet peeves, because he was very attractive, too—why weren’t there more attractive short men in my world? I tended to wear very high heels to combat the height difference, and the fact that subconsciously, my height made people want to take me less seriously.
As the door opened, he caught me sneaking a peek at him and smiled. He had a face-transforming smile, one that took him from attractive to smoking hot. Holy crap. Someone grab a mop, I was going to puddle.
Flustered, I took a hurried step forward and, the story of my life, stumbled as I jerked to a halt, unable to go forward. One of my heels had slid into the gap between the door and the elevator cab. I wobbled, windmilling my arms, but then a firm hand under my elbow kept me from face planting as the heel broke off of my shoe.
Damn it! I stared at the broken shoe in despair. This pair was brand spanking new, the first day I’d worn them, and had cost the world. I wasn’t sure whether to cry or yell, although neither option would help keep my professional image intact or make me look any more graceful to the hot, tall, silver-haired man.
“Thank you,” I mumbled, glaring down at my ruined shoe. To add insult to injury, the elevator door closed, leaving me unable to retrieve the heel. No doubt the broken piece of my shoe had fallen to the abyss underneath the elevator. It wasn’t likely I’d be able to get it repaired, but it would’ve been nice to try. Still, I let it go and turned away. It wasn’t like I could have superglued the heel back on, so I let the elevator have its tax.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” The mystery man’s voice was low and pleasant, with a trace of an accent I couldn’t identify. Very sexy, although I wasn’t exactly in the mood to appreciate it at the moment.
“Not unless you’re a cobbler.” I forced a smile, taking off my other shoe and putting both into my bag. I’d get the damn coffees barefoot and then pull out the emergency flats I kept in my desk for just such an occasion. Heels did wonders for my height issues, but they were also prone to cracking far more than they should have, which was at least half the reason for the massive array of heels that I wore daily. Of stinking course , the one I’d just broken was one of the expensive ones. Of course.
“Sorry, that isn’t among my talent’s .” He nodded and headed for the outside doors, moving with the grace of a big cat, smooth and deadly. Why had I thought that? He’d been nothing but nice. Not deadly at all.
I appreciated the retreating view for a moment, then took the ten steps to the cafe next to the elevators. At least I didn’t have to leave the building.
The barista, someone different from a few hours ago at my failed breakfast date, glanced at my feet, then met my eyes and smiled brightly. “How can I help you?”
Smart woman. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d known exactly what the problem was, and had probably gone through it herself at least once in her life. “I’d like a chai latte, a cold brew, a macchiato, and an espresso to go.”
Five minutes later, pastry display successfully resisted and order in hand, I ignored all glances at my feet as I headed back up. When I walked in, Jane stared at me with one eyebrow up.
“Oh, stop. I don’t need it from you, too. Elevator accident. Could you take the coffees to Trevor and Yolande while I get new shoes on?”
She tried not to giggle as she took the drinks from my hand, but her gaze kept darting downward, toward my feet. “Of course. I’m so sorry, they were Louboutins, weren’t they?”
Not the time to cry. “Yes. Yes, they were. I’m pretty sure I’m going to buy a plot and bury them in it.” My smile might have been a bit feral as I made the joke.
June made calming sounds as she walked around her desk. “I’ll take care of this.”
Flats didn’t go with the maxi dress, but barefoot was too earth-goddess-y and also not legal in most places. Also, they were black, and the dress was white. It wasn’t as if I had a pair of emergency flats in every color, although I was tempted to change that now. Oh, well.
Deal with it, Andromeda. First world problem.
Pushing my serious-but-not-serious problem out of my mind, I opened the NDA. It specified I couldn’t reveal any personal information about the client(s) ever. That was pretty standard. Couldn’t reveal what the clients wanted. Or pretty much anything. It said this all without telling me who the clients were.
So how was I supposed to research them again?
No-go. Franklin could stew.
I pushed back from the desk and my coffee fell on its side, soaking me before I could jerk out of the way. I yanked back, peeling the material of my sundress away from my skin before it could go from pleasantly warm to the inside of a volcano. What the actual eff? I wasn’t normally this clumsy or inept! What was happening?
A sign. This was all the universe telling me I was done with today. I had personal time to burn, and I was going to use it. Today and tomorrow. Then a single day at work before the weekend.
Three emails later, I changed into the casual outfit I stored in the office. People had said I was paranoid for having changes of clothes and shoes, but who wasn’t wearing a coffee-stained white dress and broken shoes now? Me, that’s who! …and walked out of the office, waving at Jane as I went.
My phone buzzed on the way to the elevator, and I glanced at it.
Cathy, an old friend who’d ended her most recent relationship a few months ago. We traded ice cream and wine meetings.
How’s your day?
I typed as I stepped onto the elevator, no worries about heels getting stuck when the heels were flats. Ha. Sucky.
Wanna split a bottle at your place this eve? I’ll bring food. Boss is being a jerk.
I laughed under my breath. Cathy was self-employed, an artist. She was her own boss.
Sure!
Finally the day was looking up.
