“Great. I’ll see you on Monday.”
Before he can say anything else, I open the door. The smile on his face has transformed, and he looks like a cat that just caught himself a bird he’s been eyeing for ages.
Chapter Ten
Amy
I hit the button to call one of the elevators to take me to the lobby and try to focus on the positive. The meeting went much better than I expected. The review only took an hour, so I’m out of here before six. And he didn’t ask for corrections or redos, which is a minor miracle. After I buy that lottery ticket, I should go to the beach, hold my arms out and see if the Pacific will part itself for me.
Now I just have to get into an elevator, by myself, and make my escape. And soon I’ll be escaping from GrantEm Capital and Emmett Lasker as well.
It’s going to be a long seven weeks and six days. But I can do it, and without murdering my infuriating boss for giving me busywork for fun. He’s not worth going to jail for.
Yeah, but he’s worth another screw.
Shut up, shut up, shut up!
“You don’t have to run out like I’m some plague carrier. I’m healthy as a horse—I mean, a stallion.”
Emmett. I knew it! I knew things were going too well.
No parting of the sea. It’s too late to take the emergency exit now, not that I’m capable of climbing down thirty-five stories’ worth of stairs again. “I just want to get home and watch some Netflix.” I smile, keeping my eyes on the closed doors in front of me.
Ding!
The doors open. Argh. Three seconds too late! I could’ve had the entire car to myself!
I gesture with a flourish. “After you.”
He steps inside, then looks at me.
Oh no. I’m not making the same mistake again. “Have a good evening.” I give him a small wave.
He pushes the button to keep the doors open. “It’s big enough for us to share.”
But I don’t want to have another elevator ride with you. “I like the one on the right better. It’s kind of a superstition.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “I would’ve never guessed that by the number of times I’ve seen you riding here in the left one.”
I doubt he’s observed me that closely. More like he’s going off a statistical probability. How annoying. “I ride the left one on even-numbered days.”
“But you didn’t yesterday.”
“Yesterday was an exception. Wrong phase of the moon.”
He gives me a what-bullshit smile. “Then I’ll wait with you to see what’s so special about the right elevator on odd-numbered days. Meanwhile, I might use the time productively and think of some extra training for you today.”
For a fraction of a second I freeze, wondering if this is some kind of innuendo. But so far, his behavior has been completely professional.
Regardless, I absolutely refuse to spend the rest of the evening creating an Excel model for his amusement. “Is that a threat?” By all that is holy, I want to tie him up, toss him on the street and run him over a few times.
“No. I’m informing you of a possible training opportunity. You’d have to give up Netflix, of course, but the training would be quite instructive.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose on you that way, especially after the brilliant training you came up with on Friday.” I step into the elevator with him. Being stuck together for a few minutes is worth not having to do more bullshit “training.”
“I always like it that you’re considerate. And since I’m feeling agreeable, I won’t ask you to draft the negotiation pointers and memos for Bernie so he can review them before the meeting on Monday.” Emmett says it like a king granting a favor to a peasant.