Chapter 1 #3
“Show you… the ropes?” Connor repeated each word slowly.
It wasn’t that he didn't understand what was being said.
He knew Ramona - she worked the first floor reception desk, directing clients to the proper offices.
One time, she even buzzed him in when he'd forgotten his badge, promising to keep it a secret between them.
But–none of this was making any sense. The thought of Ramona sending up a new director struck him as unusual.
New hire, sure, but that meant Nate had to have come in from the visitors’ side.
And any new director would have been walked in personally by another director, maybe even the President of the Board.
And why was he talking like Connor was a peer who would train him?
While Connor was puzzled by this, Nate kept hitting him with another grin. It was like that was his answer for everything.
It must feel nice, he thought, to be able to smile at a problem until it solved itself. Connor couldn’t say he had much experience with that.
“Yeah, I’m sure they told you I was coming in, right? I mean, of course they did. I can’t see my–wow.”
And Nate, or Mr. Santos–Connor wasn’t sure, he didn’t know what to call him at this point–looked around the office suite as if he was seeing it for the first time, genuinely taken aback.
“Wow, this is huge. Mad spacious. Yeah, sorry, this is all just–I mean you picture it but then–” He looked at Connor like they were having a shared realization, like he was also a newcomer to this space and couldn’t possibly conceptualize where he was.
“Have you ever–well, I'm sure you get used to–well, I dunno if I could get used to being–I mean, just look at this.”
He smoothed a hand across the rich mahogany of the desk, before seeming to notice the name plate. For a moment, his handsome features darkened as he picked up the plate, smoothing a thumb over golden lettering.
But it was only for a moment, and then it was over as he set the plate back down and moved throughout the suite, exploring the layout.
He stepped across the rug to the large picture windows, seeming to take in the scenery, the rolling mountainscapes, the ocean meeting the horizon only a few miles out, all the while Connor had been left reeling.
“And you said you’re Natha–Nate Santos, the new Director of Investor Relations?” Connor asked for what he was sure might be the second time now– and Connor never asked twice.
“That’s me, at your service. All the way from New York.
” And Nate even gave a little bow, like a magician showing off a card trick before straightening up, surveilling his desk with wide, interested eyes.
“So this is where they’ve got me, where are you?
Next floor up? I’m sure a guy like you’s got a great view and all. ”
Maybe the way he looked Connor up and down–not leering, but definitely too familiar for comfort–would have put him on edge, if not for the way his comment sat in his stomach like a bite of Junie’s too-sweet coffee cake.
“Mr. Santos, I’m Connor Hayes. I’m going to be your assistant. I’ll be working with you. Here.” Connor held out an arm as if to gesture at the massive office suite.
Nate puzzled at him for a moment.
“You? I mean, they said I’d be getting an assistant, but I didn’t expect–I mean, no offense, you seem like–well, look at you.”
Connor bristled.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He didn't mean to snap, but he did.
Nate bit the inside of his cheek.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. You look professional, that’s all. Manager quality, you know? So you’re my assistant. Okay.”
And again, Nate glanced around the room before looking back at Connor, inclining his head.
“And you don’t have a desk Or–or a chair?”
Connor pressed his lips together in a thin line. In all the time that he’d worked for Alarie, he'd never had his own desk. Devore had promised to have one delivered for him for an entire year.
“Right in front of that window. You’re one for sunshine, aren’t you, Connor?”
But Devore made a lot of promises he didn’t keep, and this one shouldn’t have bothered him nearly as much as it did. It was harmless, and very few broken promises were actually that harmless.
His chest felt tight but Connor didn’t let his mask slip for a single moment.
“Mr. Santos, I imagine with you coming in as our Investor Relations Director, you’ll need me to be readily available as your assistant. My work can be performed from any location. A desk isn’t necessary unless you think it is.”
“Just Nate, please,” Nate said with a little wince. “And I mean it, do you want a desk?”
“I’m not sure I'm following,” Connor replied flatly. His eyes narrowed, studying Nate. What was this? Ten minutes in and he was already trying to find some carrot to dangle over Connor’s head.
“I think I’d feel awkward sitting while you’re hunched over an end table somewhere,” Nate said with a sheepish smile. “And you’d be more comfortable, yeah? So let’s get you a desk.”
Nate surveyed the room for a moment, then looked back at Connor, like he was figuring something out with those dark brown eyes of his. He even stroked his chin, long fingers brushing over dark stubble.
Connor pretended not to have noticed, just as he pretended like he didn’t feel a sticky heat at the back of his neck.
He’d always been good at pretending, hasn’t he?
“Yeah, let’s get you something stylish to match the furniture. I’ll put you right at the front, near the window. Plenty of light.” He gave Connor another smile. Hopefully those would stop unsettling him soon. “Can’t keep you in the dark.”
“Of course,” Connor replied mechanically. He even pulled out his phone and penned an email to the office supply department, CCing Nate’s new email address before tapping send.
The rest of the morning passed without much incident as Connor helped Nate get settled in, hovering beside him at his long desk as he pointed out folders, files, and other miscellany across his multiple monitors.
“Down here is where you’ll find any memos I’ve prepared for you,” Connor said, pointing out a labeled folder on Nate’s desktop. “When you come in every morning, you should expect to find the day’s agenda in another folder here, too.”
“Right here?” Nate asked, circling the folder labeled Agendas. Connor nodded.
“Yeah, right there. I’ll add notes for the weekly investor meeting in this folder. When you have a chance, look over this PDF.” He pointed out the PDF in the middle of Nate’s desktop. “It’s a quick rundown of our investors.”
“Okay, and who exactly are our investors?”
That was a strange question. Connor frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Nate bit one side of his cheek.
“I mean–what, is this a community of investors? You know, day traders?”
His stomach sank. Something didn’t feel right about this. Alarie Inc. wasn’t publicly traded and had fought to remain that way for some time. An incoming Investor Relations director should have known that.
“No, not day traders. Our investors are PE firms and asset managers. There’s a few hedge funds, but you should focus on learning the PE firms.”
“PE, that’s–”
“Private equity.” Connor didn’t mean to sound as harsh as he did, and he found himself feeling self conscious in the silence that followed before Nate spoke again.
“Right, I knew that–” His voice wavered slightly. “They’re our major stakeholders, yeah?”
Connor nodded, though that prickle at the back of his neck hadn’t quite dissipated. He inhaled a breath that was supposed to feel steadying but came up short against his ribs.
“Yeah. They’re highlighted in red, and the hedge funds are in green. I've got some extra information in those columns to the right if you scroll. You know, preferred titles, best practices when communicating with them, personnel notes.”
Nate clicked opened the PDF, scrolling through Connor’s notes with a frown. The colorful blocks, the lengthy explanations for each.
He'd stayed late the night before putting this together, thinking of it as the last piece of the puzzle his incoming director would need in order to hit the ground running.
“You put a lot of work into this, didn’t you?” Nate observed, offering Connor a smile that crinkled at the corners of his eyes. “This really looks great. I feel like I'm coming in with all my bases covered, you know?”
Connor didn’t know what to say. “Thank you, I was just doing my job” didn’t feel appropriate. So he simply continued through his explanation.
“That’ll get you through the first few meetings until you’re standing on your own feet. But you’ll need to learn our investors.”
“How many are there?”
“Twenty-six,” Connor said, and Nate let out a low whistle.
For what it’s worth, Nate was sharp. He followed along with everything Connor said and asked good questions. He was a step up from other executives Connor had worked for.
He scrolled through the PDF in silence, pausing on the black and white photos that Connor snagged from LinkedIn, mouthing their names as he hovered his cursor over each one.
“Who would you say is going to be the most trouble?” Nate asked after a moment. “Who's the flightiest right now?”
That question was a little more reassuring, and Connor managed a small smile, his shoulders relaxing.
Each of their investors could be a handful all on their own, which made sense.
Financial firms weren't always the most generous with their investment funds.
It was an unfortunate truth that they were quick to drop organizations like Alarie at the first sign of scandal, and there has been many signs of scandal that prompted a few of their old investors to flee like antelope at the first whispers of a lion.
That left their remaining investors paranoid, more so than they usually were. Connor complained often about the investors being thorns in his side to Junie, and this was a question he could answer without a second thought.