6. James
JAMES
“Iquit!”
I looked up from my laptop to find a gorgeously disgruntled Natalie Reynolds standing in the center of my office, arms crossed and eyes on fire. Why was it that every time we came into contact with one another she seemed to have her dial turned up to eleven?
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I quit. I absolutely cannot work a single day longer for Clint.” She said his name like the word tasted bad.
She started pacing, her heels clicking her unhappiness with every step. I tried to ignore the ways the muscles in her calves worked as she stormed around my office.
“Did he accidentally turn off your key card or something?” I asked, steepling my hands on my desk. “I know you’re sensitive about that.”
Natalie froze and stared at me, her face a mask of fury. “Are you turning this into a joke? I’m trying to discuss a legitimate problem and you’re making fun of me?”
“Not at all,” I said smoothly, hoping she’d take it down a notch. “But you do tend to jump to conclusions. Just trying to figure out what we’re dealing with here. Please, go on, but do me a favor and try not to shout.”
She looked like she was trying to keep from screaming at me. “I feel like you’re dangerously close to telling me to calm down, and if you do, I swear you’ll regret it, boss man,” she seethed.
“Please, I know better than to tell a hysterical woman to calm down,” I replied quickly.
“Hysterical?” It came out in a strangled voice, and I realized I’d fucked up big time. “Is that how you see me?”
Natalie stomped a few steps closer to my desk and I saw the fury in her eyes—but I also saw that she seemed close to tears. My stomach sank as I realized she was genuinely upset. Not just worked up, not just dramatic, but hurt. Something was really wrong, and it was bigger than the beef between us.
I grimaced, realizing that I needed to backpedal, and fast. “Apologies, that wasn’t what I meant.
I’m sure you have a legitimate concern, and I do want to understand it.
But before I accept your resignation after just one week of employment, can you explain what’s going on?
HR will need to know, and of course I’m curious as well. ”
She finally seemed to exhale, blinking back the tears without letting them fall, and the tension in my office dialed down a few notches.
“Oh, don’t worry, I made a list,” she said as she tapped on her phone.
“First, Clint has belittled me from the very first day in front of the team for not knowing how to do things.” She locked eyes with me.
“I’m still figuring everything out, there’s a learning curve, you know?
Especially since I’ve gotten zero training from him. ”
“Of course,” I agreed, already uncomfortable with what she was telling me. “What else?”
“Second, he’s making unreasonable demands of my time. He expected me to complete a fall color scheme work-up in twenty-four hours! That’s, like, weeks of work!”
I frowned. “That’s concerning.”
Natalie took a deep breath.
“And third…he called my designs amateurish.”
Her expression shifted back to wounded at the admission, and I suddenly wanted to throttle Clint.
“Interesting. In saying that, he also insulted me.”
“Right?” she asked, incredulous.
I focused on my laptop, “I’ll need to make some calls and set up meetings to get to the bottom of this. It’s going to take some time.”
“Or you could walk yourself down to my floor and see it firsthand!”
I’d never believed in the idea of “showing management’s investment by wandering around,” like I didn’t trust my employees to do their job if someone wasn’t looking over their shoulders. But maybe it was time to show my face, and if necessary, bust some skulls?
I studied Natalie. It had taken balls for her to come to me with this. I didn’t exactly appreciate her leapfrogging the normal chain of command for lodging complaints, but I could tell that she was at the end of her rope. I pushed back from my desk.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
The normal working buzz in the office quieted as Natalie and I headed for the elevator. I rarely showed my face outside my office, and I never consorted with underling new hires. Doing both probably set the internal gossip machine into overdrive.
Fantastic. Exactly what I didn’t need: people speculating what the beautiful newbie and the big boss were up to. I could feel the frown spreading across my face as I pushed the elevator call button.
We both seemed to remember in the same moment what had happened the last time we were alone in the elevator.
“I hope you’re planning to remain clothed this time,” I said, staring straight ahead at my reflection in the mirrored wall.
She sputtered for a second. “And I hope you manage to not ogle me.”
I whirled to face her. “Excuse me?”
“You looked at me like I was the last slice of bacon at an all-you-can-eat buffet!” Her eyebrows were knitted together angrily in a way that could almost be considered adorable if she wasn’t so damn infuriating.
“How could I not? You were waving your arms around like you wanted me to see how perfect you looked.”
She opened her mouth to respond, then froze, and I realized how what I’d said must’ve sounded. Pink flooded her cheeks.
“Let’s just focus on what’s going on with Clint, okay?” I groused. I glanced down to adjust my sleeves so I wouldn’t have to meet her eyes again.
Damnit. How did this woman unnerve me so easily? I’d bedded supermodels and starlets without so much as a flicker in my pulse. But this woman… Something about her cracked my foundation, and I didn’t like it one bit.
The elevator doors slid open to the chaos that was an integral part of the creative process. If I had my way, the entire floor would’ve been gutted and Marie Kondo-ed, but Bernie made me swear I’d let the right brain team members keep things as they were.
I stepped in front of Natalie and took the lead through the piles of clothing on the ground in the hallway, gritting my teeth at the mess. There were probably thousands upon thousands of dollars’ worth of ideas among the discarded designs, both good and bad, but no one seemed to care.
“You don’t come down to this floor often, do you?” Natalie asked.
“I don’t. How did you know?”
She pointed up towards the speakers. “Music. Loud music. And no complaints!”
And it was then I realized that the throbbing in my head wasn’t just due to what was about to happen with Clint.
“Is this…” I began.
“Yup. Beyonce.” She pumped her fist in time to the beat, and for a moment I was brought back to the night in the shop, when she’d nearly mopped my face off. Natalie had been trouble since the moment I met her.
So why was I getting ready to fight for her?
We walked into the main studio space, and I felt like I was in a different world from the one I was used to.
The floor with the executive offices radiated an atmosphere of quiet concentration, not the unfettered energy of the creative space.
The oversized windows were draped with garlands and other glittery decorations from past fashion shows, and a few of the windows were papered over with design concepts for upcoming launches.
There were more piles of clothing dotting the space, along with every variety of creative desk decoration.
The room was the equivalent of an exploded box of crayons.
“James!” a voice boomed loudly enough to be heard over the bassline, setting my teeth on edge.
It was Clint from his bird’s-eye perch above the design floor, where he could oversee every aspect of what his team was up to.
I glanced up and gave him a terse nod.
He seemed to realize there was no way I was going to meet him in his space and headed down the metal staircase.
As usual he was tricked out like a dandy in a gray three-piece suit and orange bow tie, so over the top that I half expected him to throw a bowler hat on top of his bald head as well.
The man waxed his gray-speckled mustache into perfect points, so how did I not know he was a problem?
He was practically cosplaying as a cartoon villain.
I noticed that he didn’t even glance at Natalie as he strutted across the room. Everyone hunkered down over their drafting tables as he walked by.
“What an honor! And what brings you to my humble abode today?” he asked.
“We need to talk,” I said simply, pointing to one of the glass walled conference rooms off the main design floor.
Now he shifted his eyes to Natalie, as if he sensed things were about to get real—and that it was her fault.
I was shocked she’d remained silent given how she usually responded to stress. Why was I hoping for a bit of snark from her?
Hold on. Did I like this woman’s sass?
Natalie sat at the head of the table, a bold move because it forced Clint to make a decision; take the chair opposite her at the other end, or leave it for me? In a surprise move, he opted to stand with his arms crossed defiantly.
The man clearly didn’t know what was in store for him.
“Sit,” I said, motioning to a chair at the center of the table.
Clint’s face shifted from mild disdain to a flicker of fear as he collapsed into a chair. “What’s going on?”
“Do you have a problem with your newest team member?” I gestured to Natalie, who was impressively stone-faced.
He scowled. “No. How could I, at this point? She’s barely been here a week.”
“Agreed, how could you possibly judge her performance in such a short period, especially when she’s still learning how things are done here?”
He nodded, still looking confused.
“That’s why I found it so strange when Natalie came into my office to tell me that you belittled her in front of the rest of the team for not understanding company protocols.”
Clint’s head spun to Natalie and his expression darkened. “Why would you say—”
I held up my hand to cut him off. “I can talk to the rest of your team to corroborate her story, but I wanted to run it by you first.”
He seethed silently.
“She also mentioned that you wanted a Branson-specific palette from her within twenty-four hours. Could you turn one around that quickly, Clint?”