Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
I shook his outstretched hand. “Thatcher didn’t want to miss it. But your rumor was correct. We’re headed to Maine after this. To Honeybridge—”
“Oh, I know,” Chris interrupted with a smile. “I’ll be there, too. Layla called me to make sure I followed along.” He began to add something else but stopped himself, and I wondered if he was hoping to try to ferret out more information about Nova Davidson like he had in last week’s interview.
If so, good luck to Chris because I had no new information to give him even if I wanted to. We’d been getting updates on the security team’s investigation, but they didn’t seem any closer to finding the culprit… and probably never would. There were simply too many people who had access to the samples and too few people who had the desire to defy Layla. Last I’d heard, they were looking into former employees to see if anyone was holding a grudge.
If Chris wanted a scoop, he’d be better off talking to Nova—or cultivating a source close to her since Nova was keeping quiet on the advice of her legal team—but that seemed like a lot of effort for a story that didn’t seem to be generating much public interest anymore. PennCo had weathered the storm, thanks to our quick action—thanks to Thatcher—and we’d be ending the tour in better shape than we’d been even before the Nova debacle.
“So…” Chris went on. “You, me, Honeybridge?”
Thinking of Thatcher had me scanning the room for him, watching as our host introduced him to several other executives. “Mmm? Oh, yes, Honeybridge is lovely,” I said with an absent nod. “You’ll like it.”
Chris folded his arms over his chest. He was shorter and slighter than me, and the pose made him look a bit like my mother’s dog when she was irked about something. “I already like it. I especially liked sucking you off in your parents’ boat house last June… remember?”
“Huh?” I swiveled my head to look at him fully, then darted a look around us to make sure no one had overheard. “Shit, Chris,” I whisper-hissed, face flaming. “Don’t talk about that here. It’s a professional gathering, and I’m working.”
“Is that what you call it?” His smile was back but wry this time. “You haven’t taken your eyes off your boss since you walked in.”
If my face got any hotter, I would have to leave the room and throw myself into the snowy parking lot.
“Because I’m his PR assistant for this trip,” I said haughtily. “He might need a rescue.”
“Right.” Chris cocked his head. “So what’s it like working for the Thatcher Pennington? Some people claim he’s an asshole. Others say he’s fair but incredibly demanding.”
Apropos of nothing—and inappropriate as fuck—a memory of Thatcher’s voice saying, “Come for me. Now,” flitted across my brain as it seemed to do on a regular basis.
I cleared my throat. “Er… not really? He has high standards for himself, but he’s very gracious and…” I swallowed. “It’s good. I’m learning a lot. It’s especially nice being out of the office, getting to meet people across the country.” All of that was true. I mentally nodded in self-approval.
Chris narrowed his eyes. “That was a bullshit PR response if I ever heard one. Straight from the Trent Wellbridge playbook.”
I let out a surprised huff of laughter. From twenty feet away, Thatcher turned his head and met my eyes as though he’d heard me. I quickly looked back at Chris before the reporter could see me mooning in Thatcher’s direction.
“The truth is, it’s been strange working with him,” I told Chris honestly. “I’ve known Thatcher for years as a, uh… family friend, but it’s different interacting with him as a boss. He’s a brilliant entrepreneur—which, you’re right, makes him a bit intimidating—and this opportunity to travel with him feels a little bit like a second job interview.” I smiled winningly. “I want to learn from him, to impress the hell out of him. I also don’t want to let him down or put my foot in my mouth.”
I shrugged, suddenly feeling put on the spot. While it didn’t seem like Chris was pressing me for insider information, it still felt awkward to discuss Thatcher in this way with another person, especially someone I’d slept with before, so I quickly added, “You might have heard from Layla that I was only put on this tour because there was a serious flu outbreak at the office. Normally, Thatcher’s very hands-off at PennCo, and since I’m new to the company, I haven’t worked closely with him until now. It was an unexpected opportunity.”
Chris nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve researched the man quite a bit. His second wife was very vocal, post-divorce, about how career-driven Thatcher is, probably because his parents always pushed him to succeed. I remember her saying, ‘Thatcher cheated on me with Pennington Industries long before I was ever unfaithful.’ She claims he’s a very cold man.”