Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
All nine of them lowered their heads when a door slammed behind them like they were afraid to make eye contact. Good.
Everyone was wearing the typical black and white uniform that Emory Hotels gave them. And I already hated them.
I hated this job.
I hated everything.
I’d been the last intern to go through the program and did so well that they moved me up to VP within a year, but nobody warned me that I’d be the boss to the sniveling idiots who showed up with stars in their eyes, multiple degrees, the desire to change the world but the inability to actually execute said change.
I sighed and prayed for more patience, knowing that no matter how many prayers I sent—I’d still have none.
I’d been like that for a while.
Angry.
Bitter.
Grumpy.
Whatever you want to call it, it wasn’t good.
And I want to blame it on her walking away, my past, just the situation I was put in but then I would end up resenting every single person I work with all because…
Of.
Her.
I took a deep breath and faced the interns, only to have the elevator open, revealing Dustin and someone short behind him.
Someone familiar.
Her hair was dark on the edges, lighter on the top, she had dark lipstick on and zero eye makeup.
I frowned and leaned to the side while Dustin waved at me. “Sorry, got the last intern, this is—“
“—Bri,” I said it like an exhale and curse at the same time.
She stumbled into Dustin’s back and paled, her eyes darted around the small boardroom before landing back on mine, like she was unable to look away. I could tell she wanted to. She always fidgeted when she was nervous, this time her hands were balled into small fists and her clearly worn-out clothing wasn’t helping things.
What the hell happened to her?
Followed immediately by what the hell happened to us?
I gulped and told myself to get it together. “All right, so the last intern is here, let’s all sit down and go over your contracts, marketing, and how you’ll help Emory Hotels once again get a five diamond award.”
I cleared my throat and reached for my coffee when the monitor turned on and the lights turned off. Son of a bitch, he was back.
Max Emory, owner of Emory Hotels, popped up on the screen like a bat out of actual Hell.
He was both the worst and best boss ever.
The worst, because he would quite literally just randomly appear and look over your shoulder and had a weird thing with goats and geckos, don’t ask.
The best, he paid extremely well, and I had dental plus a 401K and three weeks vacation plus ten mental health days—that I found were absolutely one hundred percent needed to survive in his company.
He was one of those CEOs that was almost too brilliant to handle, but you’d walk away after a meeting with him and thank him despite your trauma and a sudden twitch in your eye.
Oh, and he wrote a book on relationships.
He actively put it in every hotel across the world.
It hit the New York Times bestseller list.
Basically, some people get all the glory for saying things like “Bro, and when you talk to your significant other…” Don’t get me started, oh and the interns that came years before me were put through what I can only explain as a real-life Hunger Games meets Survivor sort of reality show with challenges, all in an effort to get a job.
“Fellow EMH Employees!” Max shouted via the video, spreading his arms wide in nothing but a white button down, ripped jeans, combat boots and a Rolex that cost more than emergency heart surgery.
God, not this again, last time the interns saw a video from him they had to sign very specific paperwork about hostile work environments.
I sat at the head of the table and purposefully looked away from Bri while she tugged at her jacket and stared straight ahead as if she was interested in what our CEO was about to say.
I swear if he started talking about the positive company environment and potential to be the best you can possibly be, I was going to throw my laptop and a stapler at the screen.
“…and here at EMH, we try really hard to truly dive into a positive company culture.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“After all!” He clapped his hands like a seal. “We find it so important to take care of the humans working here, as interns for this year, we actually do have a very incredible program where, if you can make it to the end of what we now, four years running have called The Emory Games, you’ll get a signing bonus and immediately get brought up to corporate, past the thirteenth floor.”
Was it my imagination, or did Dustin’s face suddenly freeze in real time? He adjusted his bow tie and wiped his cheek, then folded his arms while Max continued to talk. “The best part about the Emory Games with interns is that you’re paired up with someone else on equal footing, but we thought this year, why not spice it up and pair up interns with their superiors? Not only do they learn while competing, but the superiors also have something to gain in remembering what it’s like to be on the bottom floor.” Max, no joke, licked his lips and said, “Right, Dustin?”