Chapter 3
Chapter Three
I t was a very good thing I’d already been prepared to beg, because I suddenly wanted to smash the window of his door with my heel. Of course, I hadn’t been exactly the most professional of interview candidates.
Yet I still had the job.
As assistant for one of the most infamous billionaires in Boston.
Holy shit.
Jack Hollister stood and came around the desk. His tie was off and dripping out of his pants pocket, and his cuffs were rolled back on a rather nice set of forearms. No ink for him.
Was it wrong that it disappointed me? Hmm .
I’d always appreciated ink, but rarely did it turn my sensors on high. To be honest, little had rated on my male-o-meter in the last few years. I wasn’t a nun, but I definitely hadn’t been interested in more than an occasional dinner date in too many months to count.
Or was it a year?
Oy .
The fact that I didn’t know should have made me re-evaluate my dating life, but I was just too tired. Between my grandmother’s sudden death and my last gallery showing, men had been the very last thing on my mind.
Ten minutes with Blake Carson had dissolved that like an acid etching.
Now I had to be there at seven in the morning and try to pretend I was prime assistant material. Evidently, I need to brush up on my spreadsheet knowledge. Luckily, I was used to playing with invoices at Lady’s Bay Gallery. I’d whipped the Stanwick family gallery into shape. I could do the same with Blake Carson.
I hoped.
“I was just about to go in there and check on you. Most women come out crying within five minutes.”
“He wasn’t that bad. And that’s very sexist, Mr. Hollister.”
Jack snorted and leaned his hip against the desk. “Maybe a little, but he’s my best friend. I know exactly how he is.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask why, but I managed to keep that one to myself. A six-pack of faux pas a day was more than enough. Yet there must have been something about my interview that he liked.
That gave me a little more time to figure out a way to get onto his good side. “I got the job. So, it wasn’t all bad.”
“Good, because I’m sick of playing secretary.”
“You’re the CEO, right?”
“That’s what the etching on the door says.”
I couldn’t help but smile that time. “Don’t you have an assistant?”
“I do. He just happens to be on vacation. He just got married, and his wife made me promise I’d leave him alone for ten days.” Jack folded his arms. “I’ve only picked up the phone eleven times to call him.”
“How long has he been gone?”
“Two days.” He tipped back his head and blew out a long, slow breath. “Two very long days.”
“And Mr. Carson’s last assistant?”
He met my gaze again. “We’ve just lost the contract with the last temp agency in the city. You’re our only hope.”
My eyebrows shot up. “So, that’s why he hired me.”
He stood up. “Well, no. I’m sure it was your qualifications.”
I held up a hand. “Unlikely.”
Jack’s eyebrow winged up. “It’s going to be an interesting few days in here.”
I could do the eyebrow thing too. “I’ve dealt with the art world for half my life. Blake Carson doesn’t scare me.”
“Good. Because he scares me. Just make sure he has lots of strong black coffee, and your life will be infinitely easier.”
“This isn’t Mad Men . I’m not going to be bringing him coffee like a good little secretary.”
Jack clapped. “Oh, yeah. This is going to be fun to watch.”
“I’m his assistant. I’ll have this place running like a clock within three days.”
“I admire a woman with a good sense of humor.”
I swallowed and slapped a confident smile on my face. “You’ll see.”
Jack walked back around the desk and snapped his laptop closed. “I’ll make sure your favorite coffee is stocked.” He picked up the phone on the desk. “What is it?”
“I don’t drink it.”
He peered through his messy shag of blond hair. “Pardon?”
“I don’t drink coffee.”
“Yeah, I think you just said you don’t drink coffee, but I’m not quite sure.”
“No coffee. I limit myself to one Pepsi Max a day if I need a boost. Otherwise, I drink water.”
Jack picked up his iPad and tapped something on his screen, then he huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. We’ll see about that.”
“I’m serious.”
“I’m sure you are.” He gave me an indulgent smile. “I promise I won’t say ‘I told you so’ tomorrow, Gracie.”
“Grace,” I corrected.
He laughed. “We’ll start with two cases of Pepsi Max.”
“Honestly, Mr. Hollister?—”
“Jack.”
My teeth clicked together. “Jack.”
He gave me a little salute and walked down a hallway, whistling the entire way. “Good night, Gracie.”
“I won’t need it,” I called out.
He just waved at me and kept walking. I glanced over my shoulder at Mr. Carson’s door and stuffed my hands into my jacket pockets. Absently, I played with my slim card holder, the only purse I needed most days, and crossed to the elevator.
I’d come here looking for a miracle, and I was walking away with a job. Not exactly how I’d imagined this day going. In fact, I didn’t remember the drive out to Boston—I’d been livid and shell-shocked, not to mention emotional.
I was running on exasperation at this point and hoped that it would at least get me home. Somehow I’d make this work. I wasn’t entirely sure how, but I’d think of something. When the elevator doors opened to the lobby, I caught George’s gaze.
He smiled. “No tears. That’s great!”
I couldn’t help but smile back at him. “No tears.” I’d cried enough for a year. I wasn’t going to let Blake Carson squeeze another tear out of my overused tear ducts. My heels clicked across the slate. “In fact, I guess I’m going to need a badge for tomorrow morning.”
His wispy eyebrows shot up. “Well, all right. That’s wonderful.” At the computer, his fingers were far nimbler. In no time, he had a temporary badge printed out for me and instructions for the next day. Once I was entered into the system, I’d get a photo taken, as well as be microchipped.
Like a dog ?
I frowned.
“It’s to be able to get in and out of the building. Mr. Carson takes security very seriously. Today was definitely an anomaly.”
“Good to know.”
“The building goes into lockdown at 2 a.m. every night.”
“I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”
George smiled. “You say that now, but Mr. Carson doesn’t exactly work on the nine-to-five kind of schedule. He has clients all over the world.”
Another surprise. “I’ll remember that.” I backed away from the desk and turned to the wide expanse of windows. Boston was in full bloom. Carson Covenant Inc. was right in the middle of the busiest part of the harbor. “Will I see you tomorrow, George?”
“Afraid not. Angie will be back tomorrow.”
“Well, then nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, Ms. Copeland.”
I pushed open the doors to the vestibule. It was even more impressive on the exit. The glass artist in me was enamored by the framework and the quality while the bitchy part of me wanted to leave a big ole palm print.
Too bad it was so fascinatingly resistant.
Again, I’d kill to have that kind of glass in my workshop. The glass would be quite amazing if it were done in a beveled style if the dome overhead was any indication.
I sighed and opened the door, and the life and heat of Boston slapped at me. It was October, but as usual, there were a few days that the mild weather near the water turned to an oppressive heat.
They were usually followed by a storm. My favorite kind of day.
I pulled out my phone and realized I had twenty minutes to kill before I could take the T back to where I’d parked. I wandered down the street and took the access street to the Harbor Walk. The street side access to his building was overwhelming, but the water side was breathtaking.
I tipped back my head to take it all in. The framework was almost non-existent in the late afternoon sun. Impressive didn’t even cover it. Finally, I turned and followed the older cobblestones by the water up to the smoother, updated path. The ferries were coming and going, and a fleet of personal boats bobbed in their docks. The briny scent of the harbor calmed me like nothing else.
Dealing with the cool and dispassionate Blake Carson had jangled more than my nerves.
I’d had one goal when I left Marblehead, and now I didn’t know what to do. All I wanted to do was get my house back. Nothing had gone according to plan since I woke that morning.
I wandered along the water until the breeze kicked up. By the time I looked at my phone, I’d missed two more pickups from the subway. I’d walked so long that I ended up near the aquarium. I followed the after-work crush of people onto the Blue Line and wedged myself in the corner.
This part of Boston I could do without. I’d gone to school here, so I knew my way around, but I definitely preferred Marblehead.
Lady’s Bay was one of the waterways that ran along the main highway, and it had been my home for a long time. I knew the families, went to the parties, understood the politics. Now I was the poor relation. With the small town feel of Marblehead came the same Massachusetts gossip. I hated how my grandmother had been reduced to being old money, minus the money.
Annabelle Stuart had been a proud woman—so proud that she hadn’t told me just how much trouble she was in. She’d loved that house. I wasn’t going to let it go to some suit who didn’t know how to smile, let alone enjoy the ocean.
No way, no how.