“I’m just confirming that you’re back from lunch.” Carol Mendez’s voice is, as usual brusque and efficient.
“Why?”
“Jessica wants to see you.”
I frown, a sense of déjà vu creeping into my spine. “Now?”
“Well, not tomorrow.” I hear her say something, not to me. Then her voice comes back on the line. “Sit tight. She’s on her way.”
I hear a click as the line goes dead. Jessica Layner was coming to see me? If that wasn’t strange, I didn’t know what was. I close the browser and arrange a stack of sheets on my desk, wondering what she wants. I just know, somehow, that this has something to do with Landon.
Jessica pauses at the door to my office, her eyes taking in the space as if she can’t quite believe how small it is. She looks stylish in a cream sheath dress and scarlet heels. There’s a rumor that the powerful women in the Gilt organization are perpetually in competition, which is why they always look on point and demand perfection in every single aspect of their magazines.
She takes a step inside the room and closes the door behind her. I get up from my seat, and she waves a hand. “Oh sit,” she says lightly, “I’m not the president.”
I sit my ass back on the chair, confused. She walks to the window and stares out. “You haven’t got much of a view have you?”
“It’s adequate.”
She shrugs, then turns around to looks at me. “There’s a hotel in San Francisco. The Gold Dust Hotel. It’s one of those old, classy places.” She looks at me to see if I’m following. “Landon Court purchased it some time ago from the original owners, and it’s been undergoing renovations ever since.”
I wait for her to continue, not sure where I come in, but already knowing deep down that Landon has initiated something that I won’t like.
“I’ve already heard that it’s going to be a top destination in San Francisco, and he has the most renowned interior designers as part of the project team,” she says. “About a month ago I approached him about doing an article in Gilt, a glimpse into the new hotel for our readers. He wasn’t interested.” She pauses. “Then last week, his assistant calls to arrange a promotional article for a lounge he owns. And yesterday, he was here, asking to see you, and offering me the article about the Gold Dust.”
I frown. “I’m not… I don’t think it has anything to do with me.”
She raises her perfect brows. “You don’t?”
I shake my head. “Maybe he decided he needed the publicity for his hotel after all.”
Her eyes assess me for a moment. “When you applied to Gilt you wanted a position at Gilt Review, why?”
I studied English Literature, and I’ve always wanted to have a career that had something to do with books and literature. “I thought it would be the right fit for me.”
She waves a hand in a dismissive gesture. “There’s no such thing as a right fit. You have to take ownership of wherever you find yourself, make it fit you.” She stops and gives me a look. “You’ve applied yourself very well here. You won’t have a problem going to San Francisco to write about the transformation of the Gold Dust, would you?”
I choke on air. “You want me to go to San Francisco to write about Landon Court’s hotel?”
“Don’t you want to?”
I swallow. “I’m not sure… I’ve never handled anything like that.”
She gives me a questioning look. “I would have thought you’d be sick of all those promotional articles by now. You’re not a hack. This is a real assignment. It’s going to be a main feature.” She walks over to my desk. “I’m not in the habit of visiting associates in their offices, I want to know if there’s a conflict, any reason you can’t do it.”
I hesitate. Do I really want to tell my boss that I don’t want to take an assignment because I think that the owner of the property I’m going to be writing about, a billionaire with properties around the world, wants to get into my pants? And Landon, God! I wonder if writing the feature would mean seeing him again. I can’t lie to myself. I want to see him, especially after the article I just read about him. “I would love to do the feature,” I hear myself saying, “I’m glad you considered me.”
Jessica nods. “The travel arrangements are being made at his end. You’ll be meeting with Tony Gillies at the Swanson Court Tower to discuss logistics. Is that okay?”
“It’s fine.”
‘That’s all then.” She taps a perfectly manicured nail on my desk. “All the best.”
An hour later, I’m climbing out of a taxi in front of the impressive mixed use office and residential high-rise that’s the SCT building. As I walk towards the revolving doors, I catch a glimpse of myself in the reflective glass walls. I’m wearing a gray pencil skirt, a light-green silk blouse, and black pumps, with my hair held back on one side with a rhinestone barrette. I pause for a moment to check that the little makeup I applied before leaving the office looks okay, then I mutter an unladylike curse and keep walking, unwilling to accept that Landon is the real reason why I’m so concerned about my appearance.
Screw him, I think resentfully, giving my name to the security at the front desk. They’re apparently expecting me, and they hand me a visitor’s pass to enable me cross the turnstiles between the doors and the elevator bank.
“Sixty-second floor,” one of the guards informs me.