Chapter 15 #2
“Look, Spike,” I say, tapping the side of his cloth enclosure with the point of my high heel. “If you just behave until lunchtime, I promise you a small pile of fruit when we get home. Our little secret. Just don’t go ballistic with your whining… please. ”
As usual, my inbox is empty except for the Monday company newsletter. It should be easy to slip away a smidge early for my break today.
Ping!
Or so I thought.
An email from Nathan arrives right at 8:00 a.m. It’s a quick request. Apparently I’m to call a construction company and ask for a detailed breakdown of an invoice to be sent over immediately. Easy enough. I glance through the glass doors into Nathan’s office. It’s empty.
All right, well, let me knock this out really quick.
I reach for my desk phone when there’s another email alert.
At 8:02 a.m., there’s another request from Nathan.
This time I need to reschedule a finance meeting for ten o’clock this morning.
Hm, that’s an exec meeting. Definitely takes precedence.
Abandoning the phone, I compose an email to all the senior finance executives and their executive assistants to at least let them know of the cancellation.
I barely have a greeting typed out when another email comes in.
The time stamp reads 8:04 a.m. Another request for a same-day bakery order for a senior partner’s retirement party today.
There are no other instructions other than, put it on the company card, and make sure there are no nuts due to some allergy sensitivities.
By the time another email comes in at 8:06 a.m., I finally get it through my thick skull that this is Nathan’s revenge. He tried to smoke me out of my job by an impossibly difficult task. It didn’t work. Now, he’s relying on volume.
Nathan scheduled all of these emails. Ten more arrive in two-minute intervals. By half past eight, I’m sitting with an entire week’s worth of tasks that all need to be done right now. Fists balled, I growl in frustration. He’s such a dick. I could just walk out. I really could.
I have other options. Nathan doesn’t deserve me as an assistant or a friend. But something very stubborn, deep inside me just can’t admit defeat. He wants me to quit, which is why I won’t. At this point, I’m acting as childish as he is.
I allow myself two minutes to fantasize about standing up, kicking back my chair, and waltzing out of here with my head held high, while giving Nathan the bird. God, that feels good. But once the two minutes is over, I get my ass to work.
By the time Nathan walks into the office, well past ten, I’ve already ordered the retirement party cake, contacted the construction company about the missing invoice, rescheduled the finance meeting, and knocked out about three other mindless tasks.
I try to ignore him as he walks past my desk, pretending to be buried in my laptop and far too busy for morning pleasantries, but to my dismay he stops. I have no choice but to acknowledge him, which I do with a disinterested stare and a muffled, “G’morning.”
“You look busy,” he says in a monotone, devoid of any emotion.
“That I am.” I try to match his lifeless tone.
Damn, he looks good today. His white dress shirt with the subtle yellow and blue pinstripes fits a little more snug than his usual shirts. It hugs the curves of muscular shoulders, broad chest, and well-defined arms. It makes sense. Vampires have to be alluring to trap their unsuspecting victims.
“Did you get my email?”
“Oh, yes. All of them.”
He shrugs with one shoulder. “Look, I heard you at the restaurant. You wanted to help? Here it is. If you can keep up, then maybe…”
“Maybe, what?”
Nathan diverts his gaze. “I don’t know. I’m taking it day by day, as you should too. Really think about if you’re happy here and even want to work for me. Being my assistant isn’t a cakewalk.”
“I can handle it,” I say defensively.
“Fine. Did you get to the email about the residential complaints? You’ll need to contact each of the property management liaisons for the PINs to the voicemail boxes.”
I pivot in my chair to face him. “I did get that email. But a little context would help. What exactly am I looking for?”
“There’s an issue with a property management company we employ.
One former tenant is threatening a major lawsuit, saying that the property management company is retaliating on excessive maintenance requests by forcing tenants out of their units, whereas property management is saying tenants are refusing to pay rent and breaking their contracts, so they’re unable to help.
I’m not a fan of ‘he said, she said’ situations.
I want to get to the bottom of it quickly.
There’s a secure voicemail that tenants can use to anonymously report concerns, issues, and complaints without fear of backlash. ”
“Ah, almost like a tip line.”
“Exactly. The only problem is, no one has checked those voicemails in years. I need you to sift through and take notes for me. I have to make a decision on whether we’ll be firing the company or we’re going to fight the tenant in court.”
“Easy-peasy,” I chirp.
“I’m estimating there are close to one thousand voice messages in there between four mailboxes. I need you to listen to every single one and I want the information on my desk by Friday.”
My jaw drops. “ A thousand by Friday ?”
He lifts his brows as a triumphant smile claims his face. “Is that a problem?”
“Nope.” I pop the p sounding cocky as shit, while mentally I’m cracking under the pressure. “I’ll get it done.”
“Great. Oh, and feel free to come into my office whenever you need to for measurements.”
“Come again?”
“Did you get the email about my office redesign?”
“Um, yes.” I glance through my periphery at my open inbox. The fucking notifications are still coming in. I thought we were done, but there’s a fresh batch of unread emails. Subtly extending my arm, I close my laptop so Nathan can’t catch me in my lie.
“The email didn’t really state what you were looking for.” It’s just a guess.
“I was hoping you could fill in the details,” Nathan explains. Holy crap—lucky guess.
“You want me to arrange a remodel of your office without knowing what you want?”
He flashes me a devilish smile. “That’s half the fun, right? Guessing what I’ll like.” He chuckles cruelly. “I trust your taste. Just make it look more lively. Right now my office looks?—”
“A little American Psycho ?” I very helpfully finish his sentence.
“Bland,” he corrects. “Just freshen it up.” He pulls out his wallet and retrieves a black card.
“My only request is that you don’t touch the piano.
Otherwise, whatever you need, put it on here.
New furniture, painters, storage items. I don’t have a budget for this, just get it done. This is your company card.”
I pluck the credit card from his hand and admire it. I flip it over to see my name etched into the back. “You went through the trouble of having a company card made for me? Wow. Thank you. It feels so official.”
He nods slowly. “Don’t worry, I can cancel it at any time.”
This is his MO. He’s determined to ruin every moment between us that dares to be pleasant or promising.
“Noted.” I swivel back around. In my haste, I accidentally kick Spike’s carrier and he lets out a startled, mweep.
“What the hell was that?” Nathan’s face fills with worry. “Sounded like a mouse.”
“I didn’t hear anything,” I fib.
He shudders. “Call maintenance just in case and have them get in touch with pest control. Tell them to come immediately. If there’s a mouse in the building, I want it gone yesterday.”
Mweep, mweep. Nate freezes when he hears Spike’s pleas once more.
He probably wants out of his carrier. I roll my eyes as I loop my fingers through the soft cage handle and place Spike, home and all, on my desk.
“Before you call in the SWAT team, it’s not a mouse.
I’m sorry. I meant to drop him off at home this morning but I hit traffic and didn’t want to be late for work.
I can’t leave him in a hot car until lunch. ”
I’m busy explaining myself, so it takes me a moment to register the color has drained from Nathan’s face. “You brought a giant rat to the office?”
“It’s a guinea pig…a common household pet.” I scoop Spike out of his carrier. One hand wrapped around his belly, the other securing his rear, I present him to Nathan. “He’s harmless.”
To my shock, Nathan takes a large step backward. His jaw is clenched, his breathing strained, as his wide eyes stay locked on Spike as if the little guy were a deadly cobra. He points to the carrier. “Put it away.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“I have a thing with rodents,” he says, his voice tight. “It’s fine. You’re not in trouble, just get rid of it.”
“I’m not going to kill my sister’s guinea pig.”
“I didn’t mean…” He shakes his head, looking positively rattled. “Take him home. Now. ”
“Wish I could, but I have a lot of work to do. I can’t sacrifice the whole morning.”
“Take your laptop. Work from home,” Nathan quickly suggests. “Anything you need to be in the office for, just ask for Dawn’s help.”
“You’re that scared of guinea pigs?”
He flashes me a warning look, his masculinity questioned. “Not scared. I just don’t like rodents. The beady eyes. The weird paws that look like frog hands mixed with talons. Not to mention the tails.”
“Oh, guinea pigs are tailless.” I spin Spike around and show Nathan his furry butt. My boss flinches at the sudden movement. “ Wow. That bad, huh?”
He hangs his head in shame, and it takes everything in me to remain respectful and not burst out in laughter. Clamping his eyes shut, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Spencer, please take it home.”
“Okay. I will.” I carefully deposit Spike into his carrier. Nathan visibly relaxes.
“Call me if you need anything.” He makes a beeline to his office. With his back turned, I finally unleash my smile.
Oh, silly, silly Nate. We’re at war, boss.
You shouldn’t have shown me your Achilles’ heel.