Chapter 7 Julian
JULIAN
Watching the view of the Chicago skyline out of the corner window, it’s a shame the clouds hang low today.
Gray fits my mood, however. I sit on my chair behind the desk with my feet propped up on the glass and my hands behind my head.
It doesn’t exactly scream professional, but I don’t particularly care.
I’m trying to regain focus because I’ve been stewing in thoughts of my assistant.
Not going to lie, I’m walking myself straight down a road where I shouldn’t be going.
I’ve seen Savannah’s taut and smooth body naked, I’ve talked to her outside of the office, and I’ve learned to notice when she’s about to snipe out an answer directed at me.
Yet, this all feels oddly right. But today, I need to go back to being a pain in her fine ass.
Otherwise, I’m going to fall down a rollercoaster, and I actually do need her work ethic.
It was a success, minus the twenty seconds when I noticed she restocked her fruit snack jar, and she left her phone, with a background picture of an older woman with faded blonde hair, whom I would assume is her aunt.
They’re hugging at what appears to be a festival.
I wasn’t nosy, simply ensuring my assistant is aboveboard.
But avoiding her will only get me so far.
I have a potential-client lunch meeting here in my office at eleven, and Savannah might need to take notes.
Clark wouldn’t be a significant addition to our portfolio, but still, a big enough fish to consider.
He purchased a new minor hockey team in Wisconsin and is looking for someone to handle the logistics for games.
Usually, our sports and entertainment division would handle this.
I prefer to meet with the big fish, and mostly with our import and export division, but this is a favor to Charles.
My chest lunges when I hear a knock at my door, and I remind my body to get it together.
“Come in,” I say as I swing my feet off my desk and get into serious “man with power behind a $20,000-desk” mode. Quickly, I pretend to be using my laptop and avoid looking up, only for it to fail when I hear the click of her heels.
“Well, well, well… don’t think I didn’t catch you,” she taunts, and my eyes set on her as she sashays my way in her gray pencil skirt with a matching top.
“Enlighten me.”
One arm holds her notebook and folder close, and her other hand, with her perfectly manicured fingers with dark red nail polish, ticks back and forth in scolding, and I want to bite them. “Don’t think I didn’t see you. Giving the nightly cleaner extra work with your dirty shoes.”
I smirk subtly. “Well, well, well, I do remember a certain assistant once mentioning getting down on her knees to shine my shoes.” Great. Only thirty seconds in, and I’m making a sexual innuendo.
Her face drops. “Funny. Now, shall we focus on your meeting with Clark Gabes? You said you didn’t need any notes or an agenda for preparation since you plan to schmooze with your powerful cursed charm over people, whatever that may be.
I did, however, contact his assistant to figure out his favorite lunch choices, and I went ahead and ordered from that sandwich place down on Wicker.
Apparently, he really has a soft spot for spinach, a triple shot of ginger smoothie, and a buckwheat-bread sandwich with sprouts and some other rabbit food like that.
So, congratulations, you’re going to pretend to love sprouts and tomatoes plucked from the restaurant roof garden that I’m sure has plenty of Chicago pollution raining down on it. ”
Ah, damn. I should have known. The man runs marathons and lets it get to his head, both in image and bragging rights.
“Thanks,” I say as she grabs something from her folder, darts her arm out, and tosses a paper onto my desk. “What’s this?”
“I know you believe that you’re the genius in your field, but I did a little extra research for you.”
Of course she did. Efficiency, she always gets points for it. Her elegantly tight dresses are where she loses points on the scorecard, all because it ruins my focus.
“The Squirrels' travel schedule for the game season. Gosh, if I owned the team, then I would change that name stat.”
I review the paper skeptically, and she divided the info into subheadings and even highlighted dollar amounts. “Hmm, you are useful, it seems.” I keep my voice neutral.
“Exactly, which is why it would be a shame if I were to abandon you like your other assistants.”
I flip the page and briefly glance at her as though I’m not bothered. “Sure, you can go back to Yellow Hill or wherever it is where they have jam at farmers' markets.”
“It’s Everhope. And lucky for you, I’m not a quitter.”
“Joy,” I mundanely reply and toss the notes on the desk. “You are dismissed. When Clark arrives, you can see him right through.”
She rolls her eyes. “Dismissed. Really? That is your choice of words. Sounds like something you would say to a submissive in her maid outfit.” Immediately, her mouth gapes open because her rambling landed her in hot water.
A giant smirk forms on my face as my brows rise, and I lean back in my chair. “Wildly inappropriate to say to your boss. But, of course, it could be innocent provided the submissive maid’s skirt is knee-length, obviously.”
She bites her cheek and remains mute. The way she avoids making eye contact is a tease, because if she did, I’m positive our eyes would lock and force us to admit a mutual idea we shouldn’t have. Savannah pivots and begins walking out of my office, and I return to stern mode.
“Savannah, please get rid of the fruit snacks. I think I saw a wrapper on your desk.”
She lets out a disapproving noise and storms out.
Truthfully, I stole one of those things yesterday, and they’re not half bad, but she doesn’t need to know that. It’s better to keep up the pretense that I enjoy making her life hell at times.
Clark sits down on the leather sofa across from my chair in the sitting area of my office.
“It’s been a while.” I smile.
“Yeah, I think last year’s Easter party at the country club up in Winnetka.” That sounds about right.
I decide that today I’m in the mood to cut to the chase, so small talk isn’t on my agenda. “Well, it’s good to see you, and I’m happy that you had a chance to come in. That’s great about your new team.”
He waves me off. “Nah, it’s a hobby. But we lack new staff to handle logistics, so here I am while we’re in the hiring process.
” He glances to the side when Savannah returns with his smoothie and a water for me.
She sets his drink down on the coffee table with a polite smile before she walks away.
His eyes wander, and the subtle, sly movement of his facial expression irks me a little.
“Would you be a doll and bring lunch early? I’m starving.
” He gives her his attention when she’s halfway to the door, and the way he said that last word has an air of inappropriateness that only I get to have in my office.
I’m familiar enough with Savannah to realize that she is silently cringing and pissed off that he called her "doll. "
“Of course.”
“Tell me, Savannah. Do you enjoy hockey?”
She seems surprised that he’s asking her a question. For the most part, except for the friendly greetings and arranging the notes during or coordinating contracts after the meetings, the PAs don’t tend to engage in much conversation during new client meetings.
“Oh, uh, I mean, I’ve been to a few games. How could I not? Haven handles all of the logistics for the Spinners and major teams out in the east that play across North America.” She winds it back to dropping that reminder.
“Very true. That’s why I’m here.”
I really want to get this moving. “Savannah makes a good point. Thank you.” She seizes the opportunity to leave.
“We normally take on larger clients.” That should be enough to dig into his pride, but also make him feel that we are making an exception.
“The Squirrels would be smooth logistics; however, no cross-US border trips.
Unlike our major teams, most of The Squirrels' games are via bus across the Midwest. We can easily ensure all gear arrives on time with the team.”
“I assumed as much. I’m sure we’re peanuts compared to your other teams, but I’m going to make The Squirrels big, attract an audience, and find the best players. Might be the minors, but even the teams at the top of the minors get noticed by the mainstream.”
“I could perhaps agree. Ambitious plans if it’s only a hobby to you.”
He shrugs. “I mean, I might as well make a profit from it, right?”
“I assume we would start in the fall, as the hockey season is almost over for the year.”
“Yes—” His attention swings to Savannah when she enters with a basket of sandwiches wrapped in paper. “Will you be joining us?” he asks her.
She avoids looking at him and instead focuses on placing the lunch on the circular table in my office. “No, you’re in good hands with Julian.”
“A shame. You know, you both should come to one of our games. It would be great if the company would make an appearance.”
“Of course, branding is everything.” I try to divert his attention, but the guy is fixated on my assistant. Maybe she notices or maybe not.
He lifts his head and tilts to the side as Savannah busies herself with unpacking the lunch.
I clear my throat and hope to regain his focus. “Shall we get into the finer details of what a contract would entail?”
“Yeah, sure.” He refocuses when Savannah leaves my office and closes the door behind her. “I’m hoping we can reduce the fee, considering we go way back.”
That isn’t happening, and we don’t go way back. “I’m sorry, but we stick to fixed rates, otherwise the compliance auditors have a field day,” I lie. Our loyal and longstanding customers get a discount; new clients like him have no chance.
“That’s a shame. However, I would like to wrap the contract up as soon as possible to prepare for next season.”
I stand and grin tightly. “Of course. Now, if I understand correctly, our assistants have talked, and this is one of your favorite spots for sandwiches.”
He follows me to the table. “It is. I met a yoga instructor, and she insisted on breakfast there once after a night together. I ended up ditching her a few dates later, but I was hooked on the menu. I send my assistant there on my behalf.”
One thing I hate during meetings is when clients decide that we’re in a locker room to discuss things I reserve for drinks with the guys. “Interesting. Well, it looks delicious.”
“My assistant looks like a librarian.” He hitches his thumb over his shoulder toward the closed door. “Not like her. You’re lucky. She’s young, and I didn’t notice a wedding ring. Is she seeing anybody?”
One of my hands grips the armrest of my chair, while my entire body begins to boil with a fury that I shouldn’t be feeling. I grit my teeth and take a second to remind myself that I’m the bigger man and I have class.
“I don’t believe that is either of our concern.”
He bites into a kale chip and settles into his chair. “You’re right. If my assistant looked like that, I wouldn’t care if she didn’t even know how to type.” He grins sleazily.
Now protectiveness is coming over me; there’s no denying it. “Actually, she’s astute and capable of many things. She’s worked here for a while and is loyal. So yes, I am lucky.”
I unfold the paper of my sandwich, and it isn’t the glimpse of sprouts that has me untucking the paper with aggression.
“You’re extra lucky. She’s the whole package.”
Nothing inside of me is simmering down. “That’s what my company provides, the whole package. What it doesn’t provide is my assistant in any shape or form.”
His eyes enlarge, and he crosses his arms with a cunning smirk. “Ah, I see. She really is your assistant.”
As much as I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of goading me, he has successfully tipped me over the edge. Because there is a possessive side of me that is reserved only for Savannah, and it is blatantly apparent.
“You know what?” My tone is curt. “You clearly can’t focus on the business side of your little hobby, and I only take on clients who are serious about running a tight ship when it comes to their teams or company.”
Clark’s mood changes really quickly. “Excuse me? I’m not sure you should be talking to your potential client that way.”
I stand, causing my chair to scrape against the floor. “That’s fine because you are no longer a potential client.”
“I can’t believe you would want to lose my business so easily.”
“Our views don’t align, and I own the company, which means I can decide how we run the business.” I point at the door. “You know where the door is.”
He scoffs and stands, with complete disapproval written all over his face. “People will hear about this.”
“And? Do I seem like somebody who cares?” I remain resigned and confident with my choice.
Clark shakes his head in disgust and walks out, causing the door to swing open with so much force that it hits the wall with a bang.
His pace is fast, and he doesn’t even glance at Savannah sitting at her desk, completely lost about what’s happening.
I stride slowly, satisfied, and pause at my doorway to watch him go.
When he reaches the elevator, he pokes the button several times because he’s scurrying away from a man who holds the upper hand.
He grows frustrated that the elevator doesn’t move faster, but when it arrives with a ding, he huffs and barges straight in.
The moment the door closes, I drive my eyes to Savannah, who is standing behind her desk, trying to grasp what’s going on.
“What the he—”
“You.” My voice is harsh, and she stares at me with her forehead wrinkled. I raise a finger and beckon her to follow me. “In my office. Now,” I bite out.
I’m furious.
At her.
It’s illogical.
But she is in trouble.