Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 147128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 736(@200wpm)___ 589(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 736(@200wpm)___ 589(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Rick waited next to me.
‘Turn around so I can look.’
Without thinking, I turned and basically offered my ass to him. Looking over my shoulder, I tried to see what he was looking at. ‘Is my skirt okay? Did it rip or something?’
‘It’ll live.’ His hand patted my hip twice in a friendly manner, then he put his hand on the small of my back to guide me out.
I heard someone clear their throat.
William… Mr Carter – what was I even supposed to call him – didn’t look all that impressed. He opened his mouth to speak, god knows to say what, but I wasn’t about to give him the chance.
‘Welcome to Atlas Communications, Mr Carter. I’m not with Rick. He is married. I love his wife, she is awesome. Have a good day,’ I tossed my hair over my shoulder and quickly escaped from the scene, seeking refuge in my office.
I was an idiot.
A complete idiot.
3 William
My first day at Atlas Communications had been a long one. A productive one, yes, but long nonetheless. The online meeting I had with Michael Ashton before lunch about his electric cars had gone well and, from everything he had told me, we had our work cut out. We had to cut the lunch meeting short, but it too had gone well, and after I got to know everyone a little bit more I was feeling good about the core crisis management team Douglas had handpicked for me.
As the clock hit 7.00 p.m. I sat behind my desk, and while my laptop started up, I took everything in. I could see everyone else who was working late through the glass walls. Since this was a small company, Douglas employed roughly fifty people. There were only around ten or fifteen people left working. You can’t exactly predict when a crisis situation will arise, so my job rarely had set hours.
Douglas’s assistant, Wilma, was typing away at her computer in front of his office, which was to the right of my room.
Dean, one of the PR specialists working with Douglas’s daughter Kimberly, if I was remembering correctly, was talking to her in front of her room, directly across from me.
While the two big conference/meeting rooms were on the 21st floor with a few private spaces for clients to occupy if they needed, our floor housed all the staff offices. Both the east and west sides of the 20th floor were reserved for the personal offices, with two smaller conference rooms that were to be used for the team meetings.
There was a group of three people, huddled together and working on one of the long rectangular desks situated in the middle of the floor that was used as a shared working space. I could almost hear their raised voices as they heatedly argued about something they were working on. I remembered being introduced to the guy that was scowling at the other two, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember his name. I’d relearn the next day.
Another duo was standing in front of the office kitchen chatting. There were a few more people scattered around working in their own offices.
Laughter rang out, and I traced the sharp sound to its source: Kimberly. She specialized in risk management and brand consulting, which meant focusing on preventing a crisis by reviewing a company and all its facets, which was quite different from what I did. That said, if I’d read her correctly when Douglas had introduced us, she didn’t seem happy about welcoming me to the firm as the new crisis management director. As she headed towards the elevators with Dean she glanced my way and for a brief moment our gazes met. She inclined her head slightly, then continued towards the elevators. Since my role in the firm was quite different from hers, I didn’t understand her thinly veiled hostility towards me, but we’d see how things would unfold in time.
A few seconds later, Douglas Davis knocked on my door and let himself in.
‘You’re still here?’
I relaxed into my seat. ‘Just going over a few things to get ready for tomorrow. I’ll be leaving soon.’
He nodded approvingly. ‘I’d say don’t work yourself too hard on the first day, but I have a feeling you won’t listen. You sure you’re not interested in dinner at my house?’
‘Thank you for the offer, Mr Davis, but not tonight.’
‘Next week, then.’
‘Next week.’
‘Call me Douglas, William. I’ve been meaning to ask, how did the move go? Any problems with the flat that I need to be aware of?’
‘Without a hitch. Thank you for offering the place on such short notice.’
‘Don’t mention it. After the last tenants I’d decided to do some renovation on it, so it was already empty.’
‘Good timing on my part then.’
He tapped the glass with his knuckles once and looked over his shoulder when he heard a door close. ‘I’ll leave you to it. You won’t regret deciding to work with us, William. We’ll do great things together. See you tomorrow.’