Chapter 9
Monica
M y alarm pierced my ears, bringing me out of a deep sleep. I could thank the two glasses of wine for that. I rolled over and swatted at my phone until it finally gave me the relief of silence. Picking it up, I squinted as the glare from the screen told me the time. It was 6 a.m. I groaned, as if I wasn’t the one who had set the alarm in the first place.
Normally, I did not wake up this early. As a writer, I could wake up when I wanted and take things slow, enjoying a cup of coffee and hardly ever needing to change out of my pajamas. This corporate job was serving to be a rude awakening. Literally.
I hadn’t needed to torture myself with such an early morning, but I thought it would be best to feel prepared and ready to take on the day. The opposite of what I felt yesterday when I woke up in Troy’s bed at 8 a.m. A memory I couldn’t push out of my head, or even from my dreams where I had no say if he showed up. And he did. Over and over again, like an endless loop of his hands on my skin.
I shut my eyes tight and shook my head as if it would loosen the grip he had on my mind. No luck. I sighed and pushed the covers off of me, unable to stop comparing them to the silky feeling of the charcoal gray sheets that covered his bed. I wondered if he had the same dreams as me or I had just been a fleeting thought. Just as fleeting as our night together.
Tiredly, I walked down the small hallway to my bathroom and turned the shower on. Maybe the water would wake me up. I brushed my teeth as I waited for the steam to rise from over the shower curtain. When the water was hot enough, I slipped off my pajamas and stepped inside, letting the water rush over me. I had half a mind to give myself some release after last night’s dreams where we were again pressed up against the window, but instead I quickly washed and rinsed off.
It was better not to see my new boss in that way, even though I had gotten a generous glimpse of all he had to offer not even forty-eight hours ago. I had to see him for what he was. A blip in judgment. A one night only. More importantly, my now boss.
I spent the next hour getting ready, spending an annoying amount of time on my hair and makeup. I told myself it was for the job, but there were other underlying reasons to look good. Today, I curled my hair so it fell in bouncy waves past my shoulders and applied a light layer of makeup for a clean, polished look. I chose a black pair of slacks and a cream, satin button-down, along with a pair of gold ballet flats. Thankfully, I had some office wear from when I had meetings with my publisher or book signings.
I brewed a cup of coffee before I headed out the door earlier than I needed to. New York traffic could either surprise you or ruin your whole morning. Usually it was the latter. Especially coming from Queens. I hailed a cab and slid inside.
“Where to, miss?” asked the driver, adjusting the rearview mirror.
“Gunner & Co. on Park Avenue.”
He nodded and put the car into drive, easing away from the curb. Traffic was what I expected. A nightmare. But even still, I arrived outside of the large concrete and glass building thirty minutes early. I looked out the cab window and up at the very gray building, wondering what I should do.
I didn’t want to spend any more time than I needed to here. With him. It was already going to be hard enough in the set eight-hour work day, which could very well turn into a ten-hour work day. You never knew as a personal assistant.
“Is this the right place?” asked the driver, eyeing me curiously.
“Oh, yes,” I said. “Sorry.”
I grabbed my wallet from my purse and handed what I owed him.
“Thank you,” I said as I opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk.
I walked through the large glass doors that the doorman opened for me. He tipped his cap as I walked past him and into the cool, marble-floored lobby. I hadn’t really taken the time to look around yesterday in my rush, but the building was massive and luxurious. The walls were of the same marble as the floors, making the room seem like it was never-ending.
Above the front desk hung a photo of Troy and a man I presumed to be his father. They both looked so serious standing in their black suits and black ties. I could see he got his good looks from his father, along with this company, according to Kathy. I tore my gaze away from the photo and those dark green eyes, and walked toward the elevators.
I rode up twenty-something floors and took a deep breath just before the doors slid open, pouring me out into the expansive space of offices and cubicles. There were very few people here, given it was early. I smiled at those I passed, trying my best to remember their names after Kathy’s introductions yesterday.
As I passed Troy’s office, I noticed he wasn’t in it. I breathed a small sigh of relief as I stepped behind my desk and slid into my seat. As if I could avoid him forever. I would be the one working closest to him for the unforeseeable future. I laughed quietly at my stupid self as I tried to get it together.
“Good morning,” said Kathy as she strode to my desk.
“Good morning,” I said brightly.
“You’re here nice and early.” Her eyebrows raised and I couldn’t tell if she was impressed or judging me.
“Well, it’s my first official day. I wanted to make a good impression.”
“Mmm,” she said as she walked away.
What was with this woman? I watched her go before I fired up my computer, the large monitor coming to life. Drumming my fingers on the desktop, I looked around the office at the others who were starting their day. I knew nothing about hedge funds, but it seemed to be a much more serious world than I was used to with writing. It was hard not to doubt myself, but Daniel had put me up for the job. Favor or not, he seemed to think I was capable.
A notification bell sounded, bringing my attention to my email. There was an email from Troy sent late the night before. I sucked in a breath as I reached for the mouse, clicking to open it.
I watched as words poured across the screen. I scrolled to see how long the email was and was shocked to see that it could easily be ten pages long if I printed it out. I scrolled back up to the top and began reading.
Monica,
I trust you’re settling in well. I realize we did not go over the expectations of your job yesterday. I apologize. It is probably better to have them listed out in an email, so you can easily refer back to it if need be.
I expect you at the office on time at 9 AM sharp each morning. Before you arrive, I need you to stop by the coffee shop on the corner just east of the building. It’s called Le Café. If you arrive at 8:30, you should beat the morning rush. I like an iced Americano. Half a scoop of ice. 1 pump of sweetener. A splash of cream. It should be a dark color. If it’s too light, I will have you take it back. You can let the barista know it’s for me. He should know just how I like it.
I read the coffee order again, just to make sure this guy was as neurotic as he was making himself out to be, or if it was just my imagination. After reading the entirety of the email, which ate up about thirty minutes of my morning, it was confirmed that Troy was particularly neurotic about a lot of things.
Like his dry cleaning. The color codes of his calendar. His lunch order and all its modifications. How I should sign my emails when communicating with contacts.
No wonder he had written it out in an email. I would never be able to remember all of this. I couldn’t help but wonder what had I gotten myself into. I had worked with some micromanagers before, but nothing like this.
After I read through his expectations, I moved onto opening the calendar he shared with me with a list of his affairs for the month that I would be helping out with. It felt oddly intimate to have access to the goings on of his life, but this was normal for a personal assistant. It just felt intimate that it was him. I looked through the calendar longer than I needed to just out of pure curiosity.
I finally moved on to the to-do list he had left me for the day. There was a lot, and most would keep me out of the office for the majority of the day. I wondered if that was on purpose. Probably. I didn’t mind, though. It meant more time away from him to get over what had happened between us. If there was any getting over that.
I glanced at the time on my computer and saw it was just past nine. Troy had mentioned in his email that he would be late coming in today, so I still had time to go get his coffee and make sure that it was just to his liking. I would hate to screw up something as simple as a coffee order on my first day, no matter how complicated it was.
I grabbed my purse and left the office, walking down the block to the quaint little café on the corner. I must have missed the rush because the line was trickled down to two people. As I stood there, I opened up his email and read his order again, trying to memorize it. When the barista called me up, I read the order aloud.
“Is this for Mr. Gunner?” he asked. He must have been about nineteen.
I nodded.
“Sounded familiar.” He laughed softly. “Are you his new assistant?”
Knowing he had met the old one, and probably the ones before that, brought up that little hint of jealousy knowing that they had been more than assistants at one point.
“That’s me,” I said. “I’m Monica.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Josh. I’ll make sure it’s perfect.” He winked and it put me at ease.
I took the coffee back up to Troy’s office, placing it on his desk that remained still unoccupied. I glanced around briefly, trying to get more of a sense of who he was, but it was bare of any personality. Hurriedly, I slipped out the door and walked back to the elevators, crossing my fingers I wouldn’t bump into him on my way out.
Thankfully, there was no sign of him. I guessed as the boss he was free to come and go as he pleased. I felt the tiniest pang of disappointment for missing a chance of seeing him, but then it vanished, knowing that this was for the best. Troy knew what he was doing in coming in late and keeping me busy and out of the office. He was making it easier for both of us.