Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81581 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81581 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Just once I wish Mr. Maxwell would look up and notice. I’ve had countless fantasies of him rolling up his shirtsleeves and revealing his veiny forearms before landing a punch in Ralph’s face. It’s stupid. Laughable really. Nobody can save me but me. I proved that seven years ago with Vaughn.
“Mad Max won’t rescue you, honey,” Ralph murmurs with a chuckle when he catches me staring blatantly at Mr. Maxwell. As much as the nickname for my boss irritates me, I know he’s right. That’s one of the eccentricities about Grayson Maxwell. He’s hyper-focused to a fault. When he’s working on a deal, he puts every ounce of his attention into it until it is solid and indestructible. It’s what makes him one of Forbes magazine’s most successful men in America.
Ignoring Ralph, I make his coffee and set it down in front of him with a clonk. He gripes when it splashes over, but I start making my way over to Mr. Maxwell to check on his coffee. We’ve been in here for nearly two hours as they’ve been hashing out the Collins resort acquisition. As soon as this meeting is over, I’m going to force Grayson Maxwell to look me in the eyes as I slap my two weeks’ notice on his desk.
A phone call to Sean Slante this morning turned into lunch where I finally accepted his offer. Sean is a fairly good-looking man, and in another life, I’d probably have gone after him. He’s the type of guy who’d make a good husband and father one day. Successful and handsome. Friendly and polite. His interest in me is obvious, but I want this job to be about my skills, not about anything else. I want to prove to myself that I have what it takes. That I am more than a nice rack and a pair of smooth legs. Thankfully, Sean seemed to have sensed my strictly professional demeanor because he quickly slipped into business mode. By the end of our lunch, I’d accepted a position as a sales associate at Slante Mortgages. It entailed a lot more pavement pounding than I was used to, but I was looking forward to the new challenge.
“Excuse me,” a man murmurs as he grips my wrist.
I’m jolted to the present as I glare down at none other than New Guy Truman. His weasel eyes rake over my chest, and he winks. Jesus, he’ll fit right the hell in around here. When I start to pull my arm from his grip, he tightens it, forcing me to let out a gasp. I wonder if I’ll have a bruise later.
“Let go of me,” I seethe, under my breath.
Mr. Barker clears his throat and pushes his black-framed glasses down his nose to look over them at us. “Is there a problem?”
Truman releases me and shrugs. “I take Splenda in my coffee, sugar.”
My eyes flit over to Mr. Barker’s. He wears a frown on his face and darts his gaze between Truman and I, but when Mr. Maxwell begins speaking to him, he turns his attention back to our boss.
Boss.
Not for long.
I almost laugh knowing today will be the last board meeting I’ll ever have to serve at. Next month, it will be Darlene, or some newbie, who’ll have to endure the sexist remarks and unwanted advances. It will be someone else who has to feel like they’ve been blasted back to the fifties when women were nothing more than an ornament on a successful man’s arm.
Two weeks and I’m gone.
So long, assholes.
“I can’t believe he caved. What do you think was the deciding factor?” Bull questions from across my desk. My best friend of thirty-two years sits with his dress shoes propped up on the edge of the solid mahogany surface, a suspicious glare on his face. For a moment, my focus is drawn to the side of his shoe. A scuff discolors the leather, and I wonder how he got it. It wasn’t there this morning.
Shrugging, I draw my attention back down to the signed contract and away from his insignificant shoe. “I’m not sure. I’ve been wooing his ass for months. The prick liked dangling that carrot. I’d planned on taking him to a Knicks game, but before I could even tell him about the tickets, he called and said he wanted to sell.” I run my fingers through my dark hair and let out a sigh. “Feels too easy. I don’t like it.”
He’s tense as fuck, so I know I’m not out of line here.
“It’s airtight,” I mutter as I thumb through the contract. The wheels inside my head click and whir as all of the data flits through. Nothing stands out. But Collins gave in sooner than I anticipated for a reason.
I want to know that reason.
“Come in,” Bull hollers.