“Sure.”
Her smile is reassuring. “If you want to leave your briefcase here, we’ll make the rounds. Cynthia will requisition you a laptop and any other supplies you need. We’ve already had your business cards printed. I’ll take you up to meet Mr. Force and whoever else is available on the executive floor. There’s a lot going on with this sudden development I mentioned, so we’re a little disorganized.”
“No worries. I’ll figure everything out and do my best to fit in. Any idea when I’ll meet Mr. Hunt and Mr. Hennessey?”
“Probably tomorrow. They’re in meetings today.”
Good. That will give me time to gain some footing with others and find potential allies, just in case my two babysitters are pains in my ass. “Sounds good.”
Savannah introduces me around. Everyone else on my floor seems both welcoming and bright. Cynthia has already organized everything I need to get started, including a login, a phone number, and basic supplies. She promises to leave everything on my desk.
Upstairs, Mr. Force greets me with a smile and a hearty handshake. “My wife says great things about you, and she never gives praise where it’s not due.”
“I’m glad to be here, and I promise to make sure your investors spend their capital on properties capable of turning healthy, sustainable profits.”
“Excellent. My door is always open if you need anything.” Then he smiles wryly. “But Mrs. Force has her pulse on most everything and everyone. Employees know she’s smart, and no one dares to screw with her. She screws right back.”
I can’t tell if he’s trying to be comical or trying to warn me. Either way, I nod. “Thank you, sir.”
“Welcome aboard.” He sits and gives me a smile that clearly dismisses me. Then again, he runs this entire institution and the markets have been volatile lately. Of course he’s busy.
Before she heads out the door, Savannah squeezes his hand. Besides the giant rock on her finger, that’s the only obvious sign they’re married.
As she leads me back down the elevator to our floor, I can’t resist a clandestine peek. Business pages across the financial spectrum, but particularly here in Boston, have all reported on her meteoric rise from Mr. Force’s administrative assistant to director of Emerging Overseas Markets. And though some rags have suggested she slept her way to the top, I’m not seeing it. No one at Force Financial suffers fools. Since I’m starting higher up the food chain than Savannah did, I have to take advantage of the opportunity to build my new life and succeed beyond my dreams. I need to fill the cracks Derrick left behind.
As we reach the twenty-third floor again, Nathan arrives, sooner than expected. Despite approaching forty, he looks more like the star of an action film than a desk jockey. He’s tall and lean, and he’s got a sharp, no-one-gets-anything-past-him stare. Best of all, I feel immediately comfortable with him as we jump into shop talk like we’ve been working together for weeks, not minutes.
All too soon, my stomach starts growling. Since I was too nervous to eat breakfast, I’m not surprised. But I’m shocked when I look at my watch to see the time is nearly one-thirty.
“I didn’t get much chance to look around this part of the city,” I tell Nathan. “Lunch recommendations?”
He rattles off a good Thai place, a well-stocked salad bar, and a fantastic sandwich joint that also happens to make amazing homemade soups every day—all within walking distance. With a smile and a thanks, I dash down the elevator and emerge into the brisk October afternoon, wishing I hadn’t left my suit jacket on the back of my chair.
In the next building over, I wend my way through the lobby, following the signs to the cafe in the basement. The little place only has a few chairs, and those are all taken by suits and skirts eating and chatting. Since the lunch rush is ending, the line to order isn’t as long as the line of people waiting for food, but hot lunches are being delivered at a brisk pace.
It’s not long before I’m able to order a soup-and-sandwich special, then I shift over to the group of hungry patrons just waiting. After texting my sister an update on my day, I don’t have much to look at on my phone business-wise. A word game helps me pass a few minutes until something—an instinct, a mental prod telling me to pay attention—has me looking up.
And staring into hypnotic eyes the color of whiskey. They’re staring back at me, from the face of a man who obviously does everything with purpose and perfection. Even the afternoon shadow hugging his sharp jawline is faultless, as is his dark, elegantly mussed hair, his straight nose, his curved mouth, and his wide shoulders filling out his impeccable gray suit.
I flash hot all over. Without thought, my lips curl up in welcome. He smiles back, his expression something between wry and flirty. Then the most astonishing thing happens, something I’ve never felt with a simple glance.
I tingle from head to toe. Goose bumps cover my skin. Breathing becomes harder. My heartbeat thuds faster.
He continues staring, his smile turning from flirty to dirty. My reaction to him ratchets up.
He might be one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen. Scratch that, he is. I’m instantly, impossibly attracted.
Since you have to find a whole new sex life, this guy would be a great place to start…
My dinging phone breaks my train of thought. It’s not easy to tear my gaze away, but I force myself to break our visual connection and look at my screen. Mariah sent me a message of support, complete with accompanying emojis.
“Number one thirty-two,” calls a young woman who schleps a bag onto the counter between us.
That’s my lunch. Quickly, I tuck my phone in my purse and lift the bag.
“Careful. The soup is really hot,” she warns as she shoves my large iced tea into my free hand, then scans the small crowd behind me. “Number one thirty-three.”
As a frazzled redhead in a sedate dress rushes to grab her food, I shoulder my way through the people sardined into the tight space and head for the door. Regretfully, I glance back to the line, wanting one last glimpse of the hot guy. I’ll have to settle for having him as my visual dessert. But he’s gone.