Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I have to hand it to her, it’s a great question. “That is if you aren’t too busy. If anything, I can see if maybe another of the PAs can help me.” She holds up her hands. “Sorry, personal assistants.” I watch her look down at her pad, trying to hide her smile.
Her hair falls in front of her face, and she gracefully tucks it behind her ear. “I expect you to be here on time every day.” She nods at me. “The hours are from eight to five, Monday to Friday.” She nods at me, not taking notes. “There will be some times I will need you to stay after hours, depending on the workload or the case.”
“No,” she says right away, and I just look at her, not sure I heard her right. Also, I’m not really used to being told no. I mean, it’s happened occasionally through the years, but usually the boss is never told no.
“No?” I repeat what she just said, in case I misunderstood, but from the look she gives me, I know I didn’t.
“I made it clear when I was hired that I could do seven days a week, but I would have to leave by four, max,” she retorts, starting to get up. “I can’t budge on that.” She stands in front of my desk, her notepad in front of her in both hands. “I take it this is a deal breaker.”
“Why can’t you stay after four?” I want to bite my tongue the minute the words come out of my mouth. One, because it is none of my business and I know this, and two, because it looks like I care, and I don’t.
“I just can’t,” she says, not giving an inch. “I can even work before eight so I can catch up on whatever I was supposed to do after hours, but under no circumstances can I stay after four”
“This job isn’t a joke,” I tell her, and I swear to God, I can’t put my finger on why her working for me bothers me. “It’s a serious position in a serious company.”
“Did I give off that I thought this job was a joke?” she counters, not backing down from me. “Did I give off any indication from the time I walked in today that I thought it was a joke?” I just look at her. “I take your non-answer as a no. I’ve been nothing but professional since I walked into this office. I wish I could say the same about my boss.”
I’m about to get up and tell her thank you for coming and get out when I spot Nash over her shoulder. “Looks like I got here just in time.” He’s leaning against the doorjamb with his legs crossed at his ankles and his hands in his pockets. “Did you guys discuss the gala yet?”
“No,” I answer, looking at Grace, “we were going over a couple of things.”
“Good,” Nash says, coming in and sitting in the chair beside the one Grace was just sitting in. “Grace.” He looks up at her, and I swear, it’s like slow motion in my head of me reaching out and punching him in the middle of his face. “Our parents are looking at having our twenty-fifth anniversary for Cottrell Group.”
“Oh, fun.” Her voice is upbeat, and I roll my eyes as she sits down and looks at him.
“It’s Caine’s job to plan it, and well, between you and me, he’s a bit—”
“Dry,” she adds in as if I’m not in the room. She doesn’t even look my way.
Nash laughs at her as he turns in his chair. “Anyway, we were wondering if you could help get a list started.”
“Say no more. I’ve got the perfect person for you.” She grabs her pen and starts to write down things.
“Okay, hold on a minute.” I hold up my hand. “This is a gala, not prom.”
She just stares at me, or better yet, glares at me for a minute and then I see her eyes shift. “Ugh.” She slaps her pad. “There goes the balloon arch I was going to do at the entrance and the photo booth.” She snaps her fingers. “And the streamers and poppers.”
Nash throws his head back and laughs at her. “I don’t know why, that sounds like a lot of fun.” He points at her.
“I know the top event planners in the country,” she says. “If you want, I can give them a call and have them set up a Zoom meeting.”
“You know the top event planners in the country?” I repeat like it’s a joke.
“Happily Ever After Events,” she states.
“I’ve heard of them,” Nash says, and I pfft through my lips. “What? I have, look them up.”
“Anyway,” Grace goes on, “if you want, I can call in a favor.”