Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
Hannah doesn’t blink.
I’m not my damned uncle, is what she really hears.
“Of course not, Mr. Foster. I’d never imply it.”
I glare at her, but her expression doesn’t change.
She’s a hard woman to read, and normally, that’s what I like most about her.
Today, it’s one more uncertainty.
Fuck, she’s the best assistant I’ve ever had, and that’s partly because she’s impervious to any of the crap I throw at her.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s a biological android, flawlessly programmed to be professional, polite, generous, and capable.
Not warm, necessarily, but I don’t need buttery smiles.
When it comes to an executive assistant, I need efficiency, and Hannah’s skills are almost terrifyingly so.
I know she’s not here hashing out the bad news without some defense percolating in her brain.
Idle gabbing is not how Hannah Cho does things. She’s solution-oriented like a crossbow hunter is arrow-oriented. She’s already mapped out all the possibilities of how this might go down today, tomorrow, and for the next three years.
“Will you sit?” I say, gesturing to the chair. “Tell me what you’re really thinking.”
Hannah perches on the edge of the chair. Her bob is glossy, not a hair out of place, and the lace blouse emerging from her pant suit clings to her neck. She’s severity itself, no-nonsense and simple, which I like. The only piece of jewelry she’s ever worn is a silver chain necklace from her grandmother with a small dangling swan.
“I have an idea,” Hannah says. I knew she would. “One that doesn’t involve a poorly thought out press conference or any weakness on your part. Perish the thought.”
I drum my fingers. “Go on.”
“It involves the new Young Influencers program.”
“The what?” I frown at her, drawing a blank.
She sighs like she expects my total cluelessness.
“The latest goodwill program Home Shepherd sponsors. It allows young social media influencers interested in philanthropic work to shadow the CEO for several months so they can gain the executive experience helpful in running a nonprofit.”
What the hell?
I agreed to that shit?
“Right,” I lie. It doesn’t tickle the faintest memory, and I can’t believe I signed off on something so time-consuming, but fine.
“It’s intended to give our young influencers an inside view of leadership. They get to see how philanthropy programs at our level work, plus a chance to enjoy your insights,” she explains.
“I understand the concept.”
“Yes, sir.”
On my tablet, Vanessa is still yammering about the broken vow that never happened.
I try not to snarl as I turn it off and push it aside.
“Look, you know how I feel about influencers,” I say.
It’s almost the same world I despise, all rumor mills and pretty faces with ulterior motives.
The worst kind of fame and infamy.
It’s repulsive, the way they leech off people for views. Anything for a leg up.
“I do, Mr. Foster,” Hannah says coolly.
“So tell me why I don’t remember authorizing this program,” I growl. “And while you’re at it, remind me when I’d ever agree to spend time with a social media addict.”
“You didn’t, sir. Because I just came up with it.”
I stare at her blankly.
She’s too good.
That also explains a few things. Although not why she thinks this is a good idea.
“I’m going to give you two minutes,” I say curtly. “I warn you, Miss Cho, I’m going to take a lot of convincing.”
Hannah smooths an invisible wrinkle from her pants and looks up at me, her deep brown eyes opaque. In the years we’ve been working together, I’ve never managed to get a good reading on how much I annoy her.
I suspect that’s how she likes it.
But this rips me out of my comfort zone like a car collision. I want to know why she thinks it’s a good idea.
Disregarding my time limit, she takes a minute to collect her thoughts, steepling her fingers before she starts.
“Frankly, we need a fresh approach to our public relations, especially when they involve you. Due to the nature of these rumors—and the ugly fact that we didn’t catch them before they were splashed out in the open—we need to think creatively.”
“And you think some vapid influencers are the answer? That is creative,” I say sharply.
“I understand you’re not the biggest fan, however, they have a lot of leverage with their reach. You could use it to your advantage. We’ll also thoroughly vet our candidates to ensure they’ve been involved in charitable causes before.”
Yeah, right.
I snort again. “What makes you think any of them would say anything positive about me?”
“Because they’ll all be clamoring for a spot in this new program. Even if there’s a scandal hanging over you, sir, that doesn’t diminish Home Shepherd’s power and prestige,” she says smoothly. “Especially if the reward for successfully completing the shadow apprenticeship is a sizable donation to the charity of their choice.”
“I see.”
I hate that I can’t argue.
I hate that it doesn’t sound half-bad.