5. Kat
Don’t have dirtythoughtsabouttheboss,don’thavedirtythoughtsabouttheboss,don’thavedirtythoughtsabouttheboss… I kept on chanting it inside my head as I stepped inside his office on Wednesday morning. We’d worked together for two whole days, and I’d only imagined him stripping off his suit and undoing those buttons on his shirt once or twice.
Okay, maybe three or four times. An hour.
I told myself it’d just been too long since I’d had sex, and even that barely qualified since I never got to cross the finish line without helping myself while Neil cleaned up. Even then, though, it wasn’t like sex had ever been a big part of my life. Unless you counted my fictional tastes, and those books were what got me through the long, cold, lonely nights.
“Good morning, Mr. Stone.”
He looked up from his computer—so far we hadn’t crossed paths on the train again. The past two mornings I’d taken an earlier one and set up in a coffee shop just to make sure, because the more I was around him, the more my thoughts tried to veer right into the gutter. In my defense, the guy was basically walking suit porn.
I clasped my hands behind my back, sticking to my spot just a few steps inside the room.
“Why are you hovering near the door like you might need to bolt at any second?”
A sarcastic comment about him discovering my secret—that I was on the run from the law—was on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it back. Mostly because I also thought about how fun it’d be to add a flirty comment about how I was a bad girl, one who needed punished.
I’d never have the guts to actually say that, but I knew it could pitch my voice in ways that’d hint at my improper attraction. “You looked busy. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“That’s not it,” he said, a challenging gleam in his hawk-like gaze. Was it weird to suddenly wish I was his prey?
Yes,yesitis. “Just keeping the professional lines where they’re supposed to be. I didn’t want to enter your office without permission.”
“You can enter my office to check in and still keep inside the lines, and unless the door’s closed, you don’t need permission.”
Regarding that first part, I wasn’t sure I could. Was it keeping inside the lines to picture your boss as the hero in the steamy novel you were reading? I might’ve also inserted myself in the heroine’s place, and last night the two of them did some very dirty, delicious things to each other.
Timetoredirectthosethoughts. I took a couple of long strides into the room, stopping behind the empty chair across the desk from his. “I was just wondering if you needed me to get anything ready for the ten o’clock meeting in the conference room.”
“Did you get the presentation I emailed?”
I hugged the notebook I’d brought to help keep my hands busy to my chest. “Yes, and I’ve watched it through twice so I would be familiar with it.”
“Good.”
“Great.”
The corner of his mouth twisted up. “Well, at least you finish your sentences when they’re one word, even if I feel like you’re still holding back.”
“Super great,” I said. “Can’t wait for the meeting, and to see how you run it. I’ll be taking lots of notes.”
His smile spread, and holy shit it did melty, tingly things to my insides. “Super great. I’ll see you in there, then.”
I nodded and spun around, and he muttered something that I couldn’t make out. “What was that?” I asked over my shoulder.
“Nothing.”
“Now who’s talking in one-word sentences?” I teased, before wondering if teasing was okay.
“And yet, I’m holding back, too.”
I wanted to ask what he meant by that, but he turned to his computer and the tapping of the keyboard filled the air.
I settled into my desk and grabbed the stack of files I’d started organizing yesterday. I’d been introduced to everyone at the office, a rapid-fire exchange of names and titles that I was trying to imprint in my brain. In Hartford, we’d added a few people to help design ads, but we concentrated more on the marketing side of business. Before Dad had agreed to the merger, he’d fought to ensure the branch back home would stay open, even though it no longer bore his name. Most of the people had worked there for years, and several of the employees had been in my life since childhood. I loved the family-oriented feel of our office, something that was definitely not present here.
Alphabetically organizing files didn’t help me learn as much as I’d hoped, but this was part of pulling my weight and making things easier on Jameson—er, Mr. Stone. Or Stone as most everyone referred to him. The sympathetic looks people gave me when they found out I was his personal assistant didn’t exactly inspire confidence.
Debra, the receptionist, handled most of the office’s incoming phone calls, but when I saw all the lines blinking, I decided to help. I cleared my throat and picked up one of the lines. “Hello, Craze Advertising and Marketing, Katrina speaking.”
“I need to talk to JT.” The female voice was husky and suggestive, making his name sound like something naughty.
Or maybe I was projecting. At least she didn’t call him Jameson, but I wasn’t sure why that would make a difference to me, the girl who could only call him Jameson in her head. AndIshouldreallystopbeforeIslipanddoitaloud.StoneorMr.Stone,fromnowon. “Can I ask who’s calling?”
“Just tell him it’s Vivienne.”
“Hold, please.” I was always worried I would accidentally hang up on someone or transfer before announcing them. I rang Jameson’s extension. “There’s a Vivienne on the phone for you.”
He let out a long exhale. “Go ahead and put her through.”
I did as directed, and a few minutes later, I noticed that “Dinner with Vivienne” had been added to his calendar on Friday night.
A night not for business meetings.
It’snotlikeIhaveanyclaimonhim, I thought as my stomach dropped. In fact, working with him meant there could never be anything between us. But I sorta wished I didn’t have full access to his calendar or the responsibility of reminding him where he needed to be when. Can’twaituntilIgettoremindhimabouthisdinnerdatewiththesexy-soundingVivienne.
Shortly before ten o’ clock, I went into the conference room and made sure everything was set up. I plugged the flash drive into the USB port and pulled up the presentation Stone had sent me.
People started to filter in, and just when I thought I might have to go retrieve the boss and remind him of the meeting, he stepped into the room. Our eyes met, and my stomach jumped up to my throat. He took the seat to my right, the one at the head of the table, and I quickly looked down at my notepad.
“Morning, everyone,” he said, his deep voice dancing across my nerve endings. “I assume you’ve all met Katrina?”
I gave the most awkward wave in the history of waves as they mumbled variations that boiled down to “yes.”
Then the meeting was off and running. Each department presented what they were working on. I watched Stone, studying the way he responded, either with his expression or words— mostly on the austere side, but he gave a lot of suggestions along with the criticism. The praise was short in supply, the few “that’s a good start,” replies had a clear keep trying undertone, and so far, there’d only been one simple “Good.”
I knew I was supposed to be learning, and I was, but I had a feeling if I’d responded to the employees at the Hartford branch the same way, they’d call me an emotionless bitch. But since I wasn’t going to solve the way women in business were treated compared to men this afternoon, I tried to take in what I could use and apply.
The creative director and media planner were up next, and as they gave their presentation of ads they were planning to launch this month, I tightened my grip on my pen and fought the urge to shake my head and interject.
A hand touched my shoulder, and I barely covered the fact that it startled me. “Katrina, you look like you’re deep in thought,” Stone said. “Care to share?”
Oh,holycrap. I hadn’t realized that my thoughts were so visible—clearly I needed to work on my poker face, or who knew what else he’d see. “I understand that things work a little differently in this office, and I’m still learning the ropes…”
“But,”he prompted.
“But the targeting is…well, it doesn’t match the research we’ve done at the Hartford branch. So unless it’s changed recently…?” I knew it hadn’t because I’d personally compiled the most recent report myself, but I was trying not to completely crush their spirits. “I think maybe the images need swapped so the top one goes toward the older audience and the bottom goes with the younger, but not with that font—it looks like it’s trying too hard, not to mention it doesn’t match the rest of the branding I’ve seen from that company. It seems to me, anyway.”
Stone’s intense blue gaze stayed on me a few extra seconds, and I wished I could read him better. Then he looked at Rob, the guy who was now looking at me like he was thinking up ways to murder me and dispose of my body. “Well?”
“It’s not as simple as she makes it sound,” Rob said.
Simple?Inevermadeitsoundsimple,didI?
“The client liked the direction of these ads.”
Stone leaned his forearms on the table, his eyes narrowing. “I’m not asking if it’s simple, or if the client likes them. Did you do your due diligence on the company’s target market before designing the ads? Or is Katrina right about the targeting and branding being off?” He glanced at me again, but this time, more like I was a perplexing puzzle.
Jeez,isithotinhere? At least I knew my observations were spot on. The answer was yes I was right, no matter what anyone else said.
Frustration wafted off Rob as he looked from Stone to me to the media planner, who shrugged, then back to Stone. “I think this version will still sell the product, and the branding is different because I thought we could revamp it to grab more of the younger audience.”
Wrong.All that would do was alienate their older, loyal customers. If they really wanted to grab a younger audience, that wasn’t the way to go about it, either. Basically he’d designed an ad for no one.
Rob huffed. “I guess I can try to incorporate her suggestions and see if the client likes it, but that would take days?—”
Stone’s demeanor went icy sharp, and I fought a shiver at just being in the vicinity. “Don’t try, just do it. You’ve got two days to send it to Katrina for approval.”
“Send it to me?” I blurted out, because I was still having that problem with my brain to mouth filter. Now I had two irritated men looking at me, and bright side, it helped put a dent in the attraction vibes I was feeling toward one of them, smoking hot or not. “I mean, yes, send it to me. I’ll, uh, give you my email address after the meeting.”
“She’ll also need the past three months” analytics reports so she can study them while you’re doing another mockup.”
“She’ll have it after lunch.” At Stone’s continuing glare, Rob amended it to, “Before lunch.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Next.”
Holyshit,I’mgladI’mnotnext.Talkaboutpressure.
David, who was the account manager, gave his presentation, and with that last department done, Stone had me start his presentation. There were graphs and numbers, and I understood most of them, since they were similar to figures I was used to working with.
I had watched it twice through already, but as Stone was talking, I spotted something I hadn’t last night.
“There’s another place you could improve,” I said. “What was that?” Stone asked, and I shook my head. “Never mind. We can discuss it later.”
“Don’t backtrack now. Speak up, loud enough I can actually hear you.”
My skin heated. I didn’t like having the spotlight, and did he have to be so damn abrasive about it? The guys at my office didn’t always take me seriously, but no one talked to me so sharply. I took a sip of my water and then put as much volume as I could behind my words, thinking that even if they were wrong, at least everyone would hear them.
Wait.Isn’tthatworse?
“You’re bragging about your click-through-rate, but the sell-through-rate isn’t enough to merit spending that. I’d guess it’s because your targeting is off on that account as well, judging by which social media outlets you’re focused on.”
I swear the lady seated to my left gasped, and the muscle in Stone’s jaw tightened.
“Off? I set up this account myself, and my analytics prove it’s effective.”
Well,heregoesnothing. I hoped he wouldn’t fire me afterward, because it’d kill me to have to go home with my tail tucked between my legs. “It’s effective, but not as effective as it could be. That’s not where most of your target age-range spends much of their time anymore. And sure, a lot of the older audience clicks on the ad, because it catches their eye and they’re curious what the heck it’s about, but then they see it’s the kind of thing those”—I made air quotes—“‘damn millennials like’” and that alone prevents them from buying it. And I know there’s merit in repetition, but my research shows that other platforms would be more effective, and even better, not as flooded yet, which would lower the CTR even more.”
I stood and pointed to the graphs. “Shift a fourth of the money to the next age demographic on that platform because some of them will buy the product, and split what you have left on these other two, and both your CTR and STR will be something you can really brag about.”
If Stone had Superman powers, I was pretty sure this would be the part where he’d use his heat vision to fry me. It made me want to sit down and take it all back—once I’d gotten through the holy shit phase, the numbers and stats just flowed right out, and I’d probably overdone it a tad. “How sure are you about this?”
My rapid pulse hammered through my head. Before he asked? Ninety percent. After, with him and everyone else in the office looking at me? Closer to sixty. “Well, according to my research?—”
“Forget research. I’m asking you. How sure are you, and what is your gut saying?”
I focused on the graph behind him. “I’m sure that if you…” I almost said try, but decided to swap that out. “Do it for a couple of weeks, you’ll increase the profit margin—one hundred percent sure. I can watch and tweak the ads as needed if you’d like.”
“I would. Especially since all of the research I paid a lot of money for says this is the most cost-effective method.”
I bit my lip and Stone’s gaze dipped there, so quickly I almost thought I’d imagined it. I wanted to reply with WhatcanIsay?Youhiredthewrongresearchcompanybecausethey’rewrongandI’mright. But I wasn’t that bold. “I’ll change things over after the meeting and give you a report next week.”
“I want a nightly report. If I’m going to put that much faith in what you say, I want daily proof it’s working.”
“That’s not really faith, then, is it?”
The room went dead silent, and I understood why it was called dead silent, because I was pretty sure Stone wanted to kill me.
“I mean?—”
“That’s it for today’s meeting,” he said. “Everyone knows what they need to do. Now go to it.” Without waiting to see if anyone had comments or questions, like my dad usually did and I planned on doing, he turned and strode out of the office like he had a pressing appointment.
He didn’t. I’d know, because I could see his calendar.
I gave my email address to Rob, who was surly enough to make it clear he was holding a grudge, regardless of the fact that we could now be comrades-in-scolding. Debra came over, sandwiched one of my hands between both of hers, and gave me a shaky smile that had a last rites edge to it.
After everyone else had cleared out, I slowly gathered my supplies, the flash drive with the presentation, and basically did everything I could think of before heading back to my desk.
My butt had just hit the chair when my intercom buzzed. “In my office, now.”
No addressing me by name, no I’dliketoseeyou, or Pleasecometomyofficesowecantalk. Part of me was offended, but the rest of me was too terrified to deal with that right now.