5. Natasha
5
NATASHA
M onday had to be the worst of all the days to start a new job.
It was generally the worst day of the week, but on this particularly important Monday, I’d accidentally set my alarm for six p.m. instead of a.m., woke up a half hour later by the sheer grace of god, spilled coffee on my blouse as I ran to make the transfer from the subway to the Long Island Railroad to get to Saunders Furniture’s Long Island office, and forgotten to put my charging cable in my purse, which meant my phone would be dead by the afternoon.
I hated Mondays.
I hated starting new jobs.
I especially hated that I’d taken this job from the same man who’d gotten me fired. But how could I possibly turn down one job that would pay me about three times what I’d been making from my multitude of part-time jobs? Stacy’s eyes had almost bugged out of her head when I’d told her that the Mr. Moneybags who’d wanted to buy furniture for his grandmother was actually Mr. Coffeezilla from the café, and he’d given me a job, but she agreed I’d made the only possible choice.
I glanced down at the map on my phone again, then stuffed it in the pocket of my dress pants as the office building came into view. The headquarters for Saunders Furniture was housed in a rectangular, six-story building with a frameless glass facade. A bundle of nerves exploded inside me as I made my way past a courtyard decorated with trimmed hedges, wooden benches, and an ornate fountain. I pressed my hand to my belly, willing the nerves to settle.
Keep it together. You just sold your soul to work for a grumpy, furniture-empire owning, Coffeezilla billionaire. No big deal.
I didn’t know why I was so nervous anyway. It’s not like I’d gotten this job under false pretenses. Trent and his grandmother had both looked at my designs and knew what I had to offer. They were the ones who wanted me for the role. I hadn’t been looking for anything from them. But now that I had this job, I desperately didn’t want to lose it. Even if it meant working for that infuriating man.
At least his grandmother was sweet.
I sucked in a sharp breath as I reached the door, straightening my blazer in the reflection before tucking my curls behind my ears. I pulled the heavy glass door open and marched into the lobby.
My jaw immediately dropped. A massive reception desk greeted me, walnut with brass inlays. The large glass windows flooded the space with light to highlight the curated furniture displays. The lobby was a luxury showroom with some of Saunders Furniture’s best pieces mounted on prop stages. I drew closer to one of the displays, realizing that the hand-carved coffee table was one of the very first pieces Saunders Furniture ever produced. According to the small placard that accompanied the piece, it had been built by Trent’s grandfather, Davis Saunders.
I’d seen pictures of it in my textbooks, but seeing it in person was amazing.
“Can I help you?” a voice called.
I turned to the young woman behind the reception desk. The Saunders Furniture logo was mounted on the wall behind her, dusted in brushed gold and set against a backdrop of rich purple textured fabric. Purple and gold—the colors of royalty. I was in the presence of furniture-making royalty.
Excitement ate through some of my nerves. “Uh, yes,” I said. “I’m here for my orientation.”
The woman picked up a clipboard. “That would make you…Natasha Dryer?”
I smiled and nodded.
“Perfect,” she said, climbing to her feet. “If you’ll just follow me, I’ll take you down to HR.”
I followed her into a small room where I went through a company orientation and a whole slew of onboarding paperwork with a man named Hunter. By the time we were done, I had my IT system access, an ID badge with my photo, and a signed copy of my contract.
“That’s it for me,” Hunter said as we reached another office. “I’ll leave you in Carin’s capable hands.”
A pretty woman with a short French bob swept out of the room. “Thanks, Hunter,” she said as he took off. “Natasha.” She shook my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
I glanced at her name plate on the door. She’d taped a pronunciation guide beneath it. Car-in . It made me smile.
“You wouldn’t believe how many people see my name and call me Karen,” she explained. “And I’m just not one of those.”
I chuckled, her sense of humor immediately putting me at ease.
“So, I’m here to give you the official office tour,” she said, leading me through the building. I’d already seen the HR department, but as the elevator ascended, we toured through Marketing and Sales, Customer Experience, Supply Chain and Logistics, Retail Operations, and Legal.
“And this is where you’ll be working,” she said, leading me down a hallway on a floor labeled Design and Product Development. Offices shot off in every direction, people hunched over drawing tablets or working away in design programs on their computers. I caught sight of a couple screens with furniture specs, and my excitement doubled.
I’d forgotten what it was like to work with a full design team.
Having the creative freedom to build my own designs and live off the income would always be my dream, but there was something to be said about being able to put your head together with a bunch of like-minded individuals and watch a project evolve from an idea to a tangible product.
Carin walked through an open door, leading me into a conference room of sorts. More offices jutted off from this room. “Good morning!” she called.
Heads popped out of doorways briefly. Then a group of people gathered in the room, staring at me. My stomach lurched.
“Everyone,” Carin announced. “This is Natasha Dryer. We’d like to welcome her to the team.”
“Hi,” I said and was greeted by an uncomfortable silence in return. I mean, it was a Monday, and I didn’t expect anyone to raise any enthusiasm at this time in the morning. Still, the silence was unnerving, making me want to squirm in my faux designer boots.
Carin carried on, unbothered. “Natasha, these are your direct reports. You’ve got Talia Rhzanova. Head of upholstery design.”
“Hello,” the woman said. She pushed her rectangular glasses up her nose, giving me a swift look up and down. I wondered what she saw. Scratch that. I could sort of guess by the way her smile thinned. Young. Too young. I’m taking orders from this girl?
“Nice to meet you,” I replied, channeling every molecule of polite, competent energy I could muster. I smiled until my cheeks hurt.
“And Brian Wilcox,” Carin continued. “Head of case goods.” That covered any furniture designed for storage. I shook his hand.
Carin moved down the line. “This is Bronwen. One of your CAD designers.”
“Ugh, Bonnie is fine,” she said. “Only my mother calls me Bronwen.”
A couple more people joined us.
“Ah, here are Erik and Shay, your other CAD designers,” Carin said.
“Sorry,” Erik apologized, giving me a little wave. “We were just finishing up a call.”
“And last but not least,” Carin said. “This is Javi Garcia. He’s in charge of displays.”
“Merchandising and showrooms, mostly,” Javi cut in.
“Do we have displays in the US design centers?” I asked.
Javi nodded. “Pacific Design Center and Laguna Nigel in California, and then in the Design Center of the Americas in Miami. Internationally, we’ve got Hong Kong, Thailand, and Singapore in Asia, and Dubai and Jeddah in the Middle East.”
“What about Europe?” I asked.
His eyebrows drew together, his gaze skittering to Talia for a beat. “We have less of a presence there,” he said. “Since American design is obviously less popular in Europe.”
Obviously , I thought. Stupid question . Javi shot Talia another look. One that probably said This is who we have to answer to now? It was these damn nerves ricocheting around my chest. I needed to stop making comments before I made an even bigger fool of myself.
Despite Carin’s presence, the warmth in the room had been extinguished the moment she’d started introducing me to the team. Sure, they’d all smiled and nodded during the introductions, but I could tell by the way some of them now looked at me that they were suspicious—I wouldn’t exactly call it hostile, but there was an imaginary line being drawn between us. I was an interloper, and they wanted to know what the hell I was doing here.
Umm…your boss is a total grumpy asshole, got me fired, then offered me a job . I didn’t think bringing that up was going to instill any kind of confidence in them. And I supposed I could understand. I hadn’t worked for a company as prestigious as Saunders Furniture before, no one here was familiar with my work, and now I was suddenly the one in charge?
If roles were reversed, I’d probably give me the stink eye too.
But none of that made me feel any better. As far as first impressions went, I was clearly making an abysmal one. I glanced back at the door, plotting to escape and pretend I’d never crossed paths with Trent Saunders. If I just slipped through it now, I’d never have to see any of these people again.
Unfortunately, Trent chose that exact moment to walk in. “Sorry I’m late,” he announced, looking like he’d just stepped off a photoshoot. His fitted suit hugged him like a glove. “There was an accident on the expressway,” he said, irritation clear in his voice, “and traffic was backed up.”
His eyes found mine across the room. My breath caught in my throat. He was the definition of alluring, that dark gaze promising a delicious kind of danger that was hard to look away from. Why did he have to be this damn attractive? Why did I have to be attracted to him? He was a walking reminder that I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had sex, and I hated that for myself.
“No worries,” Carin said, cutting through the tension coiled around me. I sucked in a breath, my lungs expanding reassuringly. “I was just introducing Natasha to the team.”
“Excellent,” Trent said. “We’re all here?”
“All here,” Talia replied. “Including our new management.” She gave me a thin smile.
“Great. Grab your coffee or tea or whatever you need, and we’ll get started.”
The group disbanded, darting to their offices for drinks.
I spotted a small coffee station off to the side of the room and walked over to make myself a cup. I didn’t need any more caffeine, but at least it would give me something to do with my hands.
A shadow fell over me, and I looked up to find Trent standing next to me. He poured himself a cup of coffee. “You know, when I hired you, it was so you could leave your barista days behind.”
“Guess I just want to keep my skills sharp in case you get me fired from another job,” I said.
“I have a little more sway at this one.”
“Once a Coffeezilla, always a Coffeezilla,” I said.
“Coffeezilla?” He scowled at the name. “Absolutely not. That has to go.”
I hummed, shaking my head. “That’s the thing about nicknames. They tend to stick around.” I could tell he wasn’t impressed by the way his hand clenched around his paper cup. What a grouch.
“You know, I’m pretty sure it was the Hellcat inside you that got you fired,” he shot back. “I’d recommend trying to keep a lid on her.”
He handed me the lid for my cup. I glared at him.
“Watch it,” he said, his voice low. “Or I might start to think you want to hit me over the head with a package of bagels.”
“Too bad you don’t keep any stocked,” I muttered.
“And now I never will.” He turned on his heel, taking point at the oblong table. I pulled out an empty chair, feeling awkward as I slid into it. I tried not to make eye contact with my new team, but that left me only one person to look at.
Trent.
Sunlight streamed in through the windows. I couldn’t help but notice the way the light washed over him, licking at his chiseled jaw, at the wash of dark stubble on his face, highlighting his long eyelashes and expressive brows.
Holy hell, I needed to stop looking at this man.
He got up to close the blinds, darkening the room, before starting a PowerPoint presentation. “I want to thank you all for making time in your schedules this morning,” he said. “With Natasha starting today, I thought it was a good opportunity to review my expectations for the new line. I think we’re all aware that my intention is to put out a line of furniture that is created sustainably while maintaining the luxury experience expected of Saunders.”
Everyone at the table nodded.
“Natasha brings with her a wealth of knowledge on the sustainability front.”
I could feel the table side-eyeing me. I didn’t even need to make eye contact with Talia to know she desperately wanted to roll her eyes.
“That’s why she’s running point on this line,” Trent continued. “She’s got some big ideas for how Saunders Furniture could move into the future and remain competitive in a market shifting to follow a sustainability trend.”
I smiled politely. It was odd to hear Trent talk me up when he had only ever frustrated me to hell.
I caught Talia’s raised eyebrows as she looked at Javi. Trent must have seen it too, because when I glanced back at him, he was frowning at them, those expressive brows inching together.
“Most of all,” he said, switching the slides. I cringed, recognizing some of the designs I’d brainstormed and emailed to him. I couldn’t believe he’d included them in this presentation. They were hardly rendered. If I had known they were going to be showcased to the team, I would have put in a lot more work. “She brings along a massive talent.”
The CAD designers perked up, whispering to each other. I couldn’t hear what they said from where I was sitting, but my neck flushed with embarrassment. Was it hot in here? I shrugged out of my blazer.
“And that’s just a glimpse of the promise Dee saw in her designs,” Trent said. “She’s very eager to see what this team is capable of under Natasha’s guidance.”
Bonnie shot me a beaming smile, and Erik and Shay looked over with newfound interest. They were the youngest of the group, probably close to my age, and perhaps the quickest to be swayed by Trent’s words. From the way everyone had perked up as soon as her name was mentioned, it was clear that Dee still commanded affection and respect from the staff, which was both relieving and sweet.
Even Javi and Talia eased off their judgeyness a bit, the tension bleeding from their shoulders. At least they’d stopped shooting each other concerned looks across the table.
“How is Dee doing?” Talia asked Trent. “We all miss seeing her around the office.”
“Hanging in there,” he said diplomatically. How much did everyone know about her diagnosis—and about how she was struggling with it?
The Dee Saunders I’d met last week had been warm and welcoming and gracious, beyond eager to meet Trent’s new “girlfriend.” But she’d also clearly been run-down, the illness weighing on her. I couldn’t shake the image of her dragging that oxygen cylinder down the hallway behind her.
“Is there anything we can do?” Javi asked.
“No,” Trent said. “But thank you. Dee will be grateful just knowing you’re all thinking of her. Let’s continue.” He clicked over to the next slide.
“Oh, I love this one!” Bonnie exclaimed. I looked up. It was a desk I’d envisioned—a more modern take on a pedestal desk. “I can totally see that being the centerpiece of the new line.”
“But what about that one?” Erik said as Trent flipped to the next slide. Erik held his hand out for the remote, which Trent handed over, and the three CAD designers flipped back and forth between the pieces, whispering among themselves.
I caught Trent’s eye, and his eyebrow arched as if to say, Time to show me what you’ve got . Then he cleared his throat. “I’m glad you’re pleased with the initial sketches,” he said to the team, “because I’m liking what I’ve seen so far, and I want to hit the ground running. Natasha, you think you can take this as the broad concept and make something of it?”
“I…uh, yes. I’d be happy to.”
“Great. Obviously, things are structured so that you’ll sketch out the initial idea, and the team here figures out the logistics of how to make it a reality. I know you’re used to running projects solo, but that’s not how we do projects here.”
Was he implying that because I made my own furniture, I didn’t know how to be a team player? I crossed my arms. “Yes, I do know how a team works.”
He glowered at me. “That’s not what I was saying.”
“What were you saying?” I asked.
He opened his mouth, clearly ready to let me have it…but a beat later, he remembered we had an audience, and he closed it with a disgruntled look. “I think you know what I meant.”
“Do I?”
Bonnie smirked, covering her mouth with her hand. It occurred to me that maybe I should be a little more aware of the fact that we had an audience—an audience I wanted to make a good impression on—but I couldn’t let him get away with annoying the hell out of me. If we were going to make this little working relationship happen, I needed him to know that even though he was the boss, I wasn’t going to let him get away with talking down to me.
Trent cleared his throat, changing the subject, and I smirked, feeling like I’d made progress with Mr. Coffeezilla. Despite the initial frosty reception from my team, I was starting to feel hopeful that this job might work out after all.