Seven
“ T his looks great, Jeremiah. Let’s make the image on the right a little smaller, though. It’s taking focus away from the product to its left.”
I stand behind my chair and desk as Jeremiah sits in my spot with an ad he designed on my computer. The image is almost complete and ready to move up to Sierra for final approval, but we just need to tweak it a bit before submitting.
With Mr. Thomas gone and the new boss, Rome Giovanni, taking a guided tour to every single department, there isn’t anything to do but continue working on the projects we had going before the change happened. We’ve already lost six clients since news of Mr. Thomas’s indictment spread like wildfire, and we can’t lose any more. As distracting as it was to watch Mr. Giovanni enter the building looking like a fashion model worthy of a seven-figure contract, Sandcastle still has work to do and commitments to honor if we want to keep the company standing. That won't change, no matter who is seated at the top of the pyramid. But just because I'm trying to continue getting work done doesn't mean I’m not still mesmerized by what I saw.
The image of him stepping through the door still weighs on me, repeating in my mind on a sexy little loop between my instructions to Jeremiah. With all of the expectations I had in my head before he walked in, I never thought he would look that way. Mr. Thomas was fifty-two years old and looked every bit of it and then some. He certainly didn’t age well, but Mr. Giovanni is either aging like a demigod or he’s only in his thirties. Even with his tailored suit covering his physique, it was clear that he is in great shape and takes care of himself. I would bet that he doesn't miss anything—his finger and toe nails clipped at all times, his hair always kept in perfect shape at his scheduled barber appointments, and his apartment spotless every single day. If he pays that much attention to detail, what will it mean for Sandcastle? What will it mean for me?
“How’s that?” Jeremiah asks, leaning back in the seat so I can see the entire screen.
I scan the image, nodding my approval. “Perfect. Save it, and then send it to Sierra from my email—not that she is going to see it any time soon.”
Jeremiah chuckles as he saves the image. “Yeah, she’s too busy escorting the new king around. I don't blame her, though. I want to be close to him for as long as possible, too.”
Once the email is sent, Jeremiah spins around and looks me directly in the eyes.
“I’ve been trying not to say anything,” I tell him, “but my professionalism is hanging by a very thin thread.”
He scoffs. “Fuck that thread. I can't believe he had the audacity to come up in here looking like the world’s most flavorful snack. I was awestruck, taken aback, and flabbergasted.”
“Well, that makes two of us then, because I was befuddled myself.”
“Downright bewildered by that man’s beauty.” Both of us fall into laughter like highschool kids at a pep rally before Jeremiah adds, “I didn't see a ring on his finger either. Maybe you should make a move, because girl .”
“With the boss? I don't think so. Maybe you should,” I reply.
“No way. I’m not about to have these bitches in here whispering about me behind my back,” he responds. “Plus, that man is not gay. He’s very well-dressed, but you know I can tell. The only one of us that has a chance is you. So, go out there and make us proud. Unless, of course, you're already committed to Mr. Tinder.”
“Ugh, he hasn’t even messaged me yet. I’m telling you, I’m cursed to be single for life. Tinder isn’t popping, FET is a wasteland, and you know I can’t sleep with our boss—not that he’d be interested in a kinky girl like me anyway.”
“Oh, you’ve got a point there,” Jeremiah says with a wince followed by a laugh. “Your freaky ass might scare the man away as soon as you ask him to engage in breath play.”
I frown and let out a fake wail. “The thought of that man with his hands around my throat could literally make me cry. What I wouldn't give.”
Jeremiah laughs. “Girl, you are a mess. So much for professionalism, huh?”
“The thread has snapped.”
My friend and I laugh together, but the moment is cut short when Sierra Martinez steps into the bullpen and addresses the group. Her voice booms through the open area and slithers into each office, her accent on full display.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she shouts. “If everyone could get to a good stopping point in your work and gather in conference room A, I’d appreciate it. Mr. Giovanni would like to address us all.”
Jeremiah’s eyes widen as my heart begins to speed up. I don't know why I would be nervous to have a meeting with the new boss. Is it because of how he looks, or because I’m still worried that he might be an asshole? It’s usually the pretty ones that are assholes anyway … although Mr. Giovanni isn’t really pretty . He's more ruggedly handsome, with a stern demeanor and intense glare that would bring any woman to her knees, and I am any woman.
Everyone slowly makes their way into the large conference room. The department heads take seats at the front of the table while the less seasoned employees fill up the back end and the chairs lined up along the wall. Once everyone is settled, Sierra enters the room first, walking up the aisle and sitting in her usual spot to the right of the head of the table, followed by Mr. Giovanni.
All elegance mixed with hardness, he struts in, his face devoid of anything that would give away his thoughts. He is emotionless yet carefree as he walks to the front of the room and comes to a stop behind the seat at the head of the table. Everyone watches intently, no words spoken as his presence turns up the dial of intensity in the room. My nerves come roaring back because I'm so close to him that I can smell his cologne every time he moves, the masculine fragrance hypnotizing me from two chairs away. I gawk at him just like everyone else as he comes to a stop, unfastens the buttons on his jacket and removes it. I swallow back a gasp as he neatly places the jacket on the back of the chair, his toned muscles making their presence known beneath his white undershirt and black tie. Then he sits, interlocks his fingers on the table, and lets his eyes slowly connect with everyone around him. He starts on the opposite side of the table, intentionally making eye contact with everyone before finally reaching my side. Our eyes meet, he pauses briefly, I freeze and swallow hard, then he moves to Sierra next to me—and I’ve never seen a man command a room the way he has this one.
“ Buongiorno ,” he finally says.
I pinch my lips together so hard I expect to draw blood. His fucking voice … and he just spoke Italian. Is this a cruel punishment from God? Am I being tested? Why on Earth would he look that way, sound that way, and speak Italian? How am I—how is anyone —supposed to not look at him sexually when this is how he presents himself?
“As you all are well aware by now,” he goes on in English while losing no sexiness whatsoever, “I am now the owner of Sandcastle. I’m sure this change has seemed very sudden to you all, and I just wanted to take this opportunity to come and introduce myself as the new Chief Marketing Officer. My name is Rome Giovanni, clearly I’m Italian, and I was born and raised right here in Philadelphia.
“It may not seem like it from the way I came in this morning, but I’m one of you. I’ve been in marketing and advertising since I graduated college at the age of twenty-one. I’m thirty-five now, and I’ve enjoyed all fourteen years of my career. Up until about six months ago, I was a Director of Marketing at Bell Liberty Marketing. Some … changes occurred in my life that put me in a position to be able to leave BLM, take a break from work, and then move into business for myself. I’ll spare you the details of how it all played out, but I’m very happy to own my first business and looking forward to working with all of you.”
He pauses to clear his throat, and the entire room waits on pins and needles for him to begin again, his tone and confidence mesmerizing us all.
“I’m sure you're all wondering what kind of person you’ll be working for after being employed by Larry, who was … well, he was indicted for using this company to launder money, but I’d like to assume he was a good boss to you all despite that.”
Finally, there is movement in the room as people fidget after hearing Mr. Thomas being disparaged. Sure, he got caught up in something illegal, and we certainly disliked his sons, but he wasn't a bad guy.
“I have a feeling that Larry and I are quite different,” Mr. Giovanni goes on. “I’m very direct and straightforward. It’s not a leadership style, it’s just who I am as a person. I’m demanding, and when I want something done, I expect it to be. I’ll never tell you I’m going to do something and then not follow through, and I expect the same from you all. I want us to be able to communicate with each other without fear, shame, or embarrassment. Open communication is the most important aspect of my life. We will talk constantly and honestly about what we expect from one another, and that absolutely includes what you expect from me. While I am experienced in this business, I am not an experienced business owner, so I’ll be relying on your honesty to help me be better. We’re counting on each other to make Sandcastle grow and fly higher than it ever has.
“Which leads me to my next point. I’ll spend the rest of today learning the ins and outs of the company. I’ll comb through the current contracts and finances, and evaluate our business practices with Miss Martinez, and I'll strategize how we can make Sandcastle the best ad agency on the east coast. I’m a very competitive man, and I don't want companies like Bell Liberty outdoing us. We will be the best at what we do because I want to be the best at what I do. While I am strict, admittedly, I’m not a hypocrite. I intend to lead by example and be open about my desires and plans for our future, and I won't waste any time doing it.
“First thing tomorrow morning, I’ll have a meeting with the department heads. I want to be brought up to speed about every client we presently have, and who we’re pitching to in the future. I know the company has taken a hit with the indictment. Some clients have already jumped ship, and more are threatening to do the same, but now that I’m here and leadership has been solidified, we’re going to change all of that. Those who have left us will regret it, I can promise you that. Tomorrow, we look to the future. I appreciate you all coming, and I look forward to getting to know each and every one of you. Thank you very much.”
With a subtle nod of his head, Mr. Giovanni gets up from his seat, re-dons his jacket, and walks out of the room. There are no corny jokes or words of motivation we all have come to expect from Mr. Thomas. He leaves coldly and doesn't look back once he’s at the door. It happens so quickly that people look around at each other, wondering if it’s really all over. It’s not until Sierra gets up that anybody else begins to do the same.
I’m not sure how to feel now that it has come and gone so quickly. On one hand, he’s so goddamn attractive I can barely focus on anything else. On the other hand, he took a shot at Mr. Thomas and admitted that he’s strict, competitive, and highly ambitious. In my experience, people who make a point to explain how straightforward they are tend to be the biggest assholes, using their “straightforwardness” as an excuse. I’m not mean, I’m just direct . I hate people like that, and now I’m working for one. He’s gorgeous, but … fuck.
As my fellow employees filter out of the room and I try to regain my bearings from our first meeting, I place my hands on the arms of my chair and lift myself up to leave. Jeremiah does the same and shakes his head.
“Well, I don't know what I was expecting, but I’m not sure it was that.”
I push my chair in and meet him at the door. “Me either. He’s … intense.”
“Something like that. While I can get behind some of the stuff he said, there were parts that made my face scrunch up. There’s a chance we could be working for a prick.”
“I desperately want that to not be true,” I reply. “He wants a meeting with the department heads tomorrow, which means I’ll get to see what he’s really like first thing in the morning. I’ll be anxious the rest of the night thinking about it. I have to admit I’m a bit disappointed.”
“Me, too,” Jeremiah agrees as we exit the conference room.
As we step out, I feel a tiny vibration in my pocket and hear a familiar chime from my phone. We keep walking as I pull it out and tap the notification, but the words halt my steps. Jeremiah sees me and turns around.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I keep my eyes on the phone, still reading. “Nothing.”
“Then why are you looking like that? Family emergency?”
“No.”
“Then what ?”
“I got a message on Tinder,” I answer, finally looking up. “It’s Marcus. He wants to take me out for drinks tonight.”