Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“Thirty-seven minutes.” Great. “And he’s on a rampage.”
Even better. I race down the hallway and throw my stuff on my desk. I waste thirty seconds debating on making my presence known or getting coffee. Coffee wins. When I return, he’s standing in the doorway of his office, arms crossed over his chest.
“You’re late.”
“My phone died.”
“That doesn’t sound like my problem. You’re still late,” he hisses.
“I’m here now,” I snap back. “Your coffee.” He doesn’t move to accept it. Instead, he storms into his office. Jerk. I follow, secretly taking a sip because I need the caffeine more than he does.
“The Callahan reports are wrong. They need to be redone.”
“What? No, they’re not.”
He whips around. “Are you challenging me?”
Kind of. “They’re not wrong.”
“They are. Redo them.” He picks up the pile of reports and throws them on the worktable. A few slide off onto the floor. It takes everything in me not to pick one up and whip it at his face.
“Of course, Mr. Monroe. Whatever you wish,” I say, my tone dripping with sarcasm. I place his coffee on the table and pick up the reports. Then I dump them in the trash. I pull out his agenda and take a seat. “Ready to go over your agenda?”
“Yes, forty minutes ago.”
His ticking jaw says he wants to throttle me instead.
“Great.” I ignore his jab. “You have a ten o’clock call with Stevens Manufacturing, lunch in the office with Brad Well—”
“Cancel that.”
“Done. One o’clock with the Shilling Group in the conference room—”
“Why were you late?”
“I told you. And a four o’clock meeting marked private.” I close my binder and stand. “If there isn’t anything else, I’ll get started on those reports.” He looks like he has a lot more to say. Or yell, to be exact, because his eyes blaze with fury. “Okay, great.” I leave to escape his wrath.
When I shut his door, I let out a huge breath.
“That’s the face of someone who looks defeated.” I pull my attention to the annoying voice of Julie.
“Why would you say that?” I push off his door. “Can I help you with something, Julie?”
“Not you.” She walks past me to Theo’s door.
“He’s actually really busy and doesn’t want to be disturbed.”
She waves me off. “I’m sure he’ll make an exception for me.”
“Yeah, probably not. He specifically asked not to be disturbed.”
Her dainty shoulders shrug, and she knocks on his door. “I guess we’ll find out.”
“What?” Theo snaps from inside his office.
She turns to me with a smug smile. “Wish me luck.” Then she opens the door and shuts it behind her.
“Wish me luck,” I mimic under my breath. God, why does she irk me so bad? I need to focus on getting my life back on track. Tonight could be a huge opportunity for me. I miss cooking. I want to rewind life to that day and the things I would have done differently. Maybe I would have seen the signs. I shake my head and sit down. Focus on the future. Soon, I’ll be out of here and back where I belong.
I pull up the Callahan file on my computer and read the report. Nothing out of place catches my eye. “Seriously, you arrogant ass-wipe?”
To: T_Monroe@MIC.org
From: Fay_Evans@MIC.org
Subject: Callahan report
Mr. Monroe,
As stated, I see ZERO issues with this report.
Thanks,
Fay Evans
Executive Assistant to Theo Monroe
I’m starting to think he does this just to be an asshole. My email dings.
To: Fay_Evans@MIC.org
From: T_Monroe@MIC.org
Subject: Wrong Callahan reports
Check it again.
Theo Monroe
CEO, Monroe Investment Corp
God! He’s such an ass. I may be getting fired today.
To: T_Monroe@MIC.org
From: Fay_Evans@MIC.org
Subject: Right Callahan reports
No.
Fay Evans
Executive Assistant to Theo Monroe
My desk phone rings, Theo’s name lighting up on my screen. Definitely getting fired today. “Yes, Mr. Monroe?”
“Is that your final answer, Miss Evans?” His voice is calm yet challenging.
Tonight is going to work out. I’m going to get a connection and a job. I got this. “You betcha.” And I hang up.
I snicker under my breath as my phone rings again. Yeah, now seems like a perfect time to print copies. I snag my keycard off the desk and hurry down the hall at the sound of Theo’s door opening. Another bullet dodged.
Phew.
I avoid Theo for the rest of the day. He was on a call when I returned to my desk, and I snuck off to lunch before he got off. The afternoon was the same. He was wrapped up in meeting after meeting, and I hid in the bathroom between each one. I know. Cowardly. But it’s better this way.
“Hey there.”
I jerk, and my knees slam into the bottom of my desk.
“Wow, someone’s jumpy.”
I look up at Kyle. “Yeah, just. . .” Avoiding my boss, who’s on the warpath. “Long day.”
“Not looking forward to this award thing. At least we get free booze. Curious if they’ll have the margarita machine again this year.”