Chapter Seven
Spencer
The moment I woke up this morning, I felt invigorated and ready to face another day at the office. I even sang in the shower. That”s how good I felt. And I whistle a cheerful old tune while I ride the lift up to the seventh floor. Tabitha is already waiting for me in my office. She rises from her chair, smoothing out her dress, and smiles sweetly.
”Good morning, Spencer. How are you today?”
”Bloody brilliant. I haven”t felt this good in ages.” I stop at her desk. ”Feel like I could conquer the world.”
She grins. ”Glad you”re feeling so good. Chinese takeout is a miracle, huh?”
”Yes, I guess it is.” But the way I”m feeling this morning has nothing to do with food. The kung pao chicken was excellent, but no meal could ever make me feel this good. It”s because of Tabitha. ”I enjoyed our conversation last night.”
”So did I. Maybe we should do it in person next time.” She lifts her brows. ”Unless that would be a breach of ethics.”
”I read the entire fraternization policy twice before I ever stepped foot on this continent. Executives and their assistants are allowed to spend time together as friends outside of work.”
”You read the whole policy? It”s ten pages long. Nobody actually studies it.” Her smile broadens. ”But it makes sense that you”d be the first person ever to do that. You”re smart and detail oriented.”
”I”ll take that as a compliment.”
”Exactly how it was intended.” She picks up a cardboard folder and offers it to me. ”Here”s your itinerary for the day. Would you like me to go with you for your interviews with the folks who need a little guidance from the boss?”
I take the folder from her. ”Go with me? I assumed I”d be talking to those people in my office.”
”That”s what most bosses would do. But you aren”t an average executive. After the way you spoke to the whole team yesterday, I figured you”d be more comfortable doing the interviews in a casual setting.”
Tabitha is the world”s best assistant. She”s right, of course, and I wish I”d thought of the idea myself. That”s what assistants are for, though. I”m one lucky bloke to have this woman on my side.
”Your first appointment is at nine thirty,” she informs me. ”We”ll be going down to the ground floor, to the atrium on the north end of the building. That spot is the most private one you”ll find outside of a closed office door.”
”That does sound perfect. Right now, I need to take care of other matters. I assume that”s what I”ll find in this folder.”
”Yep. Let me know if you need anything.”
”Thank you, Tabitha.”
She sashays out the door, and I do my best not to stare at her arse. Only when the door shuts behind her do I finally tear my focus away from those lovely cheeks. Then I spend fifteen minutes perusing the folder Tabitha had given me. It includes my itinerary for the day as well as her suggestions for issues that require my attention. Tabitha seems like a free-spirited woman, and I believe that is her nature, yet she makes the most detailed, succinct lists I”ve ever seen.
I”ve never been that good at organizing anything. Even my shopping lists are rather haphazard.
At precisely nine-twenty, three crisp knocks resound from my door.
”Yes, Tabitha?”
My assistant opens the door, though only a few inches, and peeks through the gap. ”Time to go, Spencer. Your first appointment is in ten minutes.”
I gather up the papers in Tabitha”s folder, though I can”t get them pulled together in the precise, organized fashion she does. The two of us hustle down the hall side by side, enter the lift side by side, and exit it the same way. Is this odd? Probably. But in the slightly more than twenty-four hours I”ve known her, I”ve realized this woman takes her job seriously.
But she isn”t uptight. Not in the least. She”s efficient, and I appreciate that.
When we reach the atrium, I”m surprised by what I see. I”d assumed an atrium was always situated in the center of a building, acting as a sort of courtyard. But this one lies at the end of the structure and has glass doors that can be shut for privacy. I tip my head back, surprised again by the layout of this space. The atrium extends all the way up, allowing sunlight to filter down to us.
Tabitha leads me toward the corner of the atrium that lies furthest away from the building itself. The glass doors are open, allowing the breeze and the melodies of songbirds to infiltrate the space.
My assistant steers me toward a long concrete bench and gestures for me to sit down.
But she walks over to the bench across from me and settles her sexy arse onto it. I watch while she brings out her tablet, then begins to swipe her finger over the screen.
”Aren”t you going to sit over here?” I ask. ”You”re meant to take notes or some such rubbish. That”s what I thought.”
She lifts her gaze to me and smiles softly. ”Don”t worry, boss, I”ll take plenty of detailed notes. And I”m over here so your team members won”t feel like we”re ganging up on them.”
”Oh. Yes, that”s an excellent idea.”
I”m beginning to wonder if anyone needs me at all. Tabitha could run this company all by herself.
Her head pops up, and she sits up straighter. ”Victim number one is approaching.”
”Let”s not call them victims. I”m no serial killer.”
She smirks, then leaps up to open the door for my first victim---ah, team member. The gent scuffles into the atrium with his shoulders slumped and a wary look on his face. I thought everyone liked me after my introduction yesterday. But I suppose it”s different when I”m about to tell someone what they”ve done wrong.
Tabitha ushers the gent over to my bench, waving for him to sit down. But she looks at me as she says, ”Spencer, I”m sure you remember Clayton Brewer. You met him yesterday.”
”Yes, I do remember him.”
Then she returns to her seat.
Clayton sits an arm”s length from me, wringing his hands, though not too worriedly.
I lay a hand on his shoulder. ”No worries, Clayton. This isn”t an inquisition, and I won”t have Tabitha lashing you to a rack. I simply want to discuss your risk analysis techniques and offer my advice on how to improve any weak areas. Honestly, you”re doing a terrific job. I have just a few suggestions. All right?”
Clayton sits up straighter, turning slightly toward me. He”s clearly much more at ease now. ”Sure, boss, I”d love to hear anything you want to tell me. The last guy who had your job was a real dick.” He winces. ”Pardon me for using a bad word.”
I chuckle. ”Believe me, I”ve heard far worse things. As long as you aren”t cursing up a storm every day, I”m happy to give you leeway to express yourself however you like.”
His eyes widen, and he blinks quickly. ”Seriously? Wow, you really are the nicest boss we”ve ever had. Tabitha sure likes you, and we trust her one hundred percent.”
”I appreciate the compliment. And I also trust Tabitha.” I turn sideways, hooking one ankle over the other knee. I”m not pretending to be relaxed. I genuinely am at ease and finally feel as if I belong here. It”s only been one day since I arrived at this company, but it feels much longer---in a pleasant way. ”Why don”t we go over the data and your risk analysis decisions? I”m interested in learning your personal methods.”
Clayton grins. ”Cool.”
He”s young, but not as young as he seems. I”d say he”s around thirty. Like some of my mates back home, he seems to enjoy keeping up a young attitude even while his calendar age ticks up higher every year. I don”t mind that at all.
I open up the folder Tabitha had given me and bring out the data for Clayton”s risk analysis decisions. While I begin to point out the handful of choices that could have been done better, he listens intently and follows everything I point to in the spreadsheet. By the end of our session, I”ve gotten to know him a bit better as a person and as an analyst.
Now that our discussion has ended, we both stand up. I offer my hand to shake, and Clayton hesitates for only a second or two before he does that. Based on what I”ve heard about the previous chief risk analysts at this company, I”m sure none of them gave their underlings personal training. I doubt they shook hands with the team members either.
My interviews with the other team members go just as well. They understand that I”m not an ogre or a moron and that I want to help them succeed. It feels bloody good to be the man in charge.
Just as Kelly Jones exits the atrium, Tabitha comes over to me. ”How does it feel to have your team members worship the ground you walk on?”
”Worship me? No, that”s ridiculous. Maybe they respect the way I analyze data, but no one idolizes me.”
”Maybe I do.”
I freeze, rotating only my eyes to look at her. She must be having me on. A clever, accomplished woman like her would never fall for a finance geek.
She hooks her arm around mine. ”Don”t look so shocked. Who wouldn”t worship you? A handsome, sexy, smart, talented man with a British accent? That”s catnip to American women.”
”My mates told me the same thing, but I didn”t believe it then either. Some women might have idolized Kendall back in the old days, but that was...” No, I shouldn”t tell her about my brother”s former career. Not without his permission. Then again, he told all our friends.
Tabitha ambles toward the atrium exit, keeping her arm around mine. ”You can”t trail a sentence off like that, not after telling me women used to idolize your brother. I need the juicy details.”
”We need to get in the lift. Then I”ll finish that sentence, assuming no one else tries to join us.”
”Okay. I can be patient up to a point. Then I”m just plain annoying about demanding to hear the details.”
I doubt Tabitha Remington could ever be annoying. ”You won”t need to wait long, I promise.”
As soon as we”re in the lift, alone, rising toward the seventh floor, I finish what I”d started to say.