Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
ADRIANNA
Straightening the last packet of papers, I smile at how the room looks. Today’s meeting is about the gala. I’m excited because I’m actually invited to this meeting.
Sure, it’s because he wants me to take meeting notes, but I’ll take it. I’ve tried snooping through incoming paperwork to find out his plans for the gala, but he has kept it locked up tight.
Today’s meeting is a budget meeting for it, so I’m hoping to get more insight into what he has planned.
“Right in here,” I hear Rebecca, our receptionist, say.
Turning, I find the delivery person with all the food I ordered.
“Perfect. Let’s set it over on this table with the plates,” I tell him, indicating the back table.
I have this routine perfected. Everyone shows up early to the meeting so they can grab some treats before they find their seats.
Setting it up in the back means that no one will be tempted to get up and grab more during the meeting.
It also discourages people from being late.
If they are, they have to wait until the end to grab something. It’s the perfect system.
“Thank you,” I tell the man as we finish laying out the treats.
I escort him back to the front before I head back to my desk.
I’m just about to settle into my desk when I hear a loud noise, then curse words coming from Elijah’s office.
I debate if I should check on him, but my conscience won’t let me ignore him. What if he is hurt? I know I have imagined a million ways to kill the man, but my gentle soul can’t fathom allowing him to die in his office.
Damn bleeding heart.
So I move toward his door and knock lightly.
If he doesn’t answer, I’m off the hook.
“What?” he barks out.
Guess not then.
Opening the door, I poke my head in. “Everything okay?”
“No, it’s not. I’m looking for my phone. I can’t find it,” he growls as he moves papers around.
“Oh, okay. Have you tried calling it?” I ask.
He gives me a deadpan look. “What a wonderful idea. Why didn’t I think of it?”
“No need to be an ass. Good luck.” I go to shut the door, but he calls out.
“Wait.”
Opening the door a little more, he motions me in as he takes a deep breath. “You’re not going to help me look for it? I’m going to be late to our meeting.”
I shrug, “Is that part of my duties as your dutiful assistant?”
He glares at me. “It is.”
“Oh, well, let me help you, sir.”
Walking over to his desk, I start to pick up papers, setting them in an organized pile on the corner of the desk.
Lo and behold, at the bottom of the pile is his phone.
“There. Crisis averted. Anything else I can help you with?” I ask, my hands on my hips.
I don’t miss the way his eyes flash to my breasts. Looking down, I see my shirt is a little lower than it normally is. I fix it quickly.
“I can manage.” He turns back to his desk, shoving some papers into a folder harder than he needs to.
“What would men do without women?” I muse. “Probably never be able to find anything. I’ll be in the conference room when you are ready.”
I turn to leave as he calls out, “Has anyone told you that you are insufferable?”
I shoot him a smile over my shoulder. “Nope, but thank you so much for the compliment. I knew you secretly liked me.”
I stop at the door to look at him. It looks like he has a twitch in the corner of his eye. My smile grows seeing it. I love getting to him.
“You’re dismissed, Ms. Baker,” he tells me.
“Oh, I know. Don’t be late, Mr. Samson.”
Shutting the door behind me, I have a little pep in my step as I head down the hall toward the conference room.
Francine meets me outside.
“Oh god. Do I need my shovel? I really don’t like manual labor. Do you think we could rope in Jake from the mailroom? He seems buff.”
I snort. “What? Who are we burying?”
“By the look on your face, I’d assume our CEO. You look like a serial killer with that creepy smile.”
“Serial killers are often not known by those closest to them because they are able to use their charm and charisma to fool people into believing they are normal, which means if I were a serial killer, my smile wouldn’t be what gives me away,” I tell her.
She follows me into the room. Everyone is chatting quietly as they snack. It makes me feel good to see them so happy. It’s funny how something as small as sixty dollars worth of pastries and coffee can change the entire morale of people.
“You need to stop listening to those podcasts. I think they give you ideas,” she whispers to me as we load up our plates.
“Nah, they just teach me how to get away with it.” I wink at her, moving to take my place at the seat next to the one that used to be mine.
She takes her seat farther down the table, shaking her head at me.
It only takes a few moments for Elijah to show up. It really is such a shame that he is a dick. He looks great in a suit. Plus, those eyes are mesmerizing at times. Then he opens his mouth and ruins it.
I watch as he takes in the conference room. When he spies the treats at the back, I see the way his jaw clenches.
He doesn’t approve of all the things I put into place to help the employees have a better work experience. I’m not surprised. He is a numbers guy. He would cut it all to save a dollar.
That’s not what I wanted when I was in charge. I wanted my people happy so that they wanted to do better for the foundation. The foundation is a place that wants to help others, so shouldn’t we be helping our own as well?
His face softens as he takes in the employees enjoying their treats. Then he locks eyes on me.
I swallow hard.
Yeah, those eyes could make a girl forget her name.
“Let’s get started,” he says as he takes his seat.
I let out a relieved breath and focus on my notebook.
One word, and the spell is broken.
Every damn time.
ELIJAH
Watching Adrianna walk away, I realize I really need to get laid. I shouldn’t be watching the way her hips sway or imagining different ways I could punish her for her smart mouth.
I definitely shouldn’t be wondering how she sounds when she has an orgasm.
No, I need to focus on work.
Walking into the conference room, I take in everyone. They are all chatting softly as they eat something. Looking to the back of the room, I find a table with baked goods and coffee.
My jaw clenches at the waste of money. It’s their job to be here and sit through meetings. We shouldn’t have to feed them to get them here.
Then I look around the table once more.
I feel my jaw slacken a little.
Maybe it’s not all bad. Everyone is here and on time. They even look happy to be here. That’s more than I can say for some of the budget meetings that I hosted at The Williamson Group.
Looking back to Adrianna, it almost looks like her breath catches as she stares back at me.
She is a pain in the ass, but she does have a way with the employees. She makes them feel valued.
While checking into everything, I found that the turnover rate decreased significantly since she started working here. I know that wasn’t because of Gloria, so it had to be this woman.
I sigh. I don’t want to admit Mason and Max are right, but maybe I am being hard on the woman.
“Let’s get started,” I say, taking the seat at the head of the table.
Adrianna shuffles her plate around until her notebook is in front of her, her pen poised and ready to go.
For the first time since I came here, I feel guilty. Guilty for the way I have basically made her nothing more than a paper pusher.
Shaking my head from the thoughts, I turn to the table.
“How are we doing with the budget for the gala?” I ask.
“So far we are on track with the venue. The price is comparable to last year’s venue.
There is a bit of concern about the catering and decorations.
The caterer that we chose this year is ten percent more than the one we used last year.
Some of the decorative aspects are also more expensive.
If we continue, it will put us over budget by sixteen percent,” Boris tells me.
“What are the solutions?” I ask, gritting my teeth.
“We could contact the caterer from last year and see if they are still available. Alternatively, we could try to negotiate a better contract with the current caterer,” Boris offers.
Francine adds her two cents in. “As for decorations, we could look at what you have chosen and see if we can find something similar, but more cost-effective.”
She’s right. I know she is. Just like I know I could suck up my pride and ask Adrianna her thoughts, but I don’t. I keep my mouth shut.
“I’d like a full report on my desk by the end of the day. Do we have the contracts in place for the venue? Do we know our requirements to fulfill them?” I ask.
I know what they are. I negotiated them with the banquet hall. I wish I could have had it at The Williamson. Unfortunately, the gala outgrew its halls many years ago.
“Since we negotiated for our own caterer, they require that we use their bartenders and bar supplies. They require us to sell at least ten thousand in drinks for the night. If we do not meet it, we will have to pay the difference out of pocket. They did give us the tables and chairs for free. We have to figure out setup on our own, though,” Boris tells me.
I glance over at Adrianna, who is writing furiously.
“Ms. Baker will be down there to help set up. Let’s ask for some more volunteers to help her,” I inform the room.
“I’ll help her,” Francine offers.
“Maybe Jake from the mailroom. I hear he is buff,” Adrianna says, shooting a wink at her friend.
“That’s an inappropriate comment, Ms. Baker. Don’t make me write you up,” I tell her, hating how jealous I sound.
It’s not jealousy, though. It’s protection for this foundation. If anyone heard her talk like that, they would accuse the foundation of using its power to prey on people.
Just like the tightness in my chest is indigestion. It just happened to hit right after her comment.
She looks down at her notepad, the anger clear in her body language. “My apologies, Mr. Samson. It was meant as a joke.”
I don’t want to argue in front of everyone, so I turn back to the table. “Anything else?”
When no one speaks, I nod once. “Very well. Adjourned. I want that report, Boris.”
“Yes, sir.”
Funny how the words don’t mean the same coming from his mouth as they do the pouty mouth pretending to finish her notes to avoid me.
“Ms. Baker. My office,” I tell her in a low tone.
She looks up and nods once as she collects her things.
I wait for her at the door and walk side by side to my office. She drops her things at her desk before she steps inside.
“It was a joke, Elijah, not a dick. Don’t take it so hard.” She folds her arms over her chest.
I ignore her comment. “You used the company credit card for the food, right?”
“No. I always pay for it out of my pocket. Gloria never liked the idea of wasting company funds.”
She looks like she is gearing up for a fight. She won’t find one, though.
“I want the receipt. You’ll be paid back. From now on, use the company card.”
It’s like all the wind goes out of her sails.
“Oh, you don’t have to.”
“Of course not, but I will.”
Before she can respond, her phone rings. She hesitates before running to grab it.
I can hear her talking softly before she pokes her head back in.
“It’s Alfred Whittaker. You have dinner with him tomorrow. He would like to speak to you.”
“Very well. Patch him through.”
I move around my desk, sitting in my chair. After a moment, the phone rings.
“Mr. Whittaker. What a pleasure. I hope you are not calling to cancel on our plans tomorrow evening,” I answer.
He chuckles. “Miss out on the chance to meet the famous Williamson Group CFO? Never.”
“Former, but I appreciate the compliment. How can I help you today?”
“Well, my wife has decided to come with me. I don’t want her to be bored by our business conversation, so I thought you could bring a date with you.”
I rub my hand on my forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m single and have no one I could possibly bring.”
“Oh, I understand. Maybe we should reschedule then.”
We need this man’s donation. He doesn’t come to galas or auctions. He will only give his money to those he truly believes in. We need to pitch him on next year’s project and secure him as the main investor. Thousands of children depend on it.
“No.” I stop him quickly. “No. What about Ms. Baker? Would she suffice?”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them.
“Adrianna? Oh, of course. She is such a dear,” he says.
Of course he likes her. It seems like everyone does.
“Great. It’s settled. We will see you tomorrow night,” I tell him.
“See you then.”
Hanging up the phone, I call out to Adrianna, “Ms. Baker?”
She pokes her head in. “Yes, sir?”
“What are you doing tomorrow night?”
“Recovering after spending another long day with my dictator.” She says it so deadpan that I’m not sure if she is joking or not.
“Cancel those plans. You’re going to dinner with me.”
Her eyes widen as her mouth starts to open.
I hold my hand up. “Correction. A business dinner with me along with Mr. Whittaker and his wife.”
She nods. “I figured as much.”
“Really? How would you know he would call last minute?” I quirk a brow at her.
She shrugs. “Call it a woman’s intuition. Or maybe it’s his known MO. You’ll never know because lowly assistants don’t pay attention to that. Is that all, Mr. Samson? I have meeting notes that my dictator requires by the end of the day.”
I glare at her. “Your malicious compliance is starting to become bothersome. Watch yourself, Ms. Baker. You might not like the consequences.”
She only smiles, leaving the office.