Chapter 7
Lark
"Dismissed." He waves his hand.
My jaw drops. Oh no, he didn’t. But apparently, he did. And he had the last word. With a smirk on those sinfully delicious looking lips, he turns back to his phone.
Also, why does he have to wear glasses? It’s not fair that he looks even more delicious with them perched on his nose. Could the man get any sexier? It makes me want to lean in close enough until I fog them up. Then take them off and… Ugh! Stop.
So, my new boss is the most sinfully handsome man I've ever met. And he’s tall and dark and broad shouldered and has the kind of hair that begs me to run my fingers through it.
And those cheekbones of his could cut glass, and his nose is aristocratic and adds a certain haughtiness, an unapproachableness, to his image, which makes me want to climb him like a tree.
A-n-d, stop. I need to pull back on my runaway thoughts.
Guilt consumes me. How can I have such unfiltered, carnal thoughts about my boss? And why haven’t I felt these erotic sensations with the man I’m engaged to?
My head spins. This is so confusing. Despite warning myself not to, I can’t stop myself from being attracted to my boss.
It’s best I put distance between us and get on with the Titanic-sized list of tasks he’s dumped on my plate.
I hurry out, making sure to bang the door behind me, to let him know I’m not impressed with how he’s treated me so far.
He may be my boss, but he doesn’t get to blow hot and cold.
He doesn’t get to order me around like I’m dumb. Good thing, I’m able to think on my feet and had the presence of mind to hold my own.
It’s something I’ve had to learn. Something which, hasn't expanded to my personal life. Still, I'm glad I've learned to assert myself in the workplace. I’d be doing myself a disservice if I didn’t ensure my time is used for more of the thinking stuff.
In fact, with a little training and on the job experience, I could stand in for him if he can’t attend a meeting. Hopefully, that’s why he asked me to shadow him. Though he could have given me a little more time to acclimatize to my position.
Not that I expected any level of empathy from Sir Barks-a-lot. Haha! Cheered up by my silly name for my boss, I make it to my desk.
First thing, I email the board of directors, introducing myself and telling them the board meeting has been postponed.
In seconds, my phone rings. It’s a member of the board telling me off for changing the date of the meeting.
I introduce myself, soothe their temper and explain it was due to Mr. Davenport having to attend to other business, which I’m guessing is kind of the truth. I mean, he can’t make the meeting because he’s doing something else, right?
I follow up with calls to each board member to let them know that the meeting date has changed.
I’m unable to reach one of them and leave him a message.
When I speak to the senior-most member, he’s rude and slaps down the phone. Anger squeezes my guts.
Internally, I blame Mr. Oogie-Boogie-In-A-Tailored-Suit for people yelling at me. Then remind myself that this is the job… Kind of.
There really didn’t seem to be any reason to postpone the meeting. Of course, I don’t know what he's doing instead. Might be something of great importance. Like jerking off?
The thought of the big guy, with his big hand around his big cock, twists my belly with heat. I reach for my bottle of water and chug down on it. Ugh, what is wrong with me? I need to stay professional, remember?
I shove aside the familiar twang of guilt and confusion and tap open my Christmas playlist. I slip in my wireless buds, and the first notes of my favorite holiday track fill my ears. My shoulders drop an inch. Suddenly, the world feels a whole lot less catastrophic.
Fueled by the festive spirit, I call Evelyn at reception to ask who organizes the annual office holiday party. The silence on the line is my first hint. Her answer is the second.
There has never been a party to celebrate the festive season.
Not once.
I am horrified.
My boss might be Ebenezer Scrooge, brought to life and stuffed into a tailored suit, but that is no reason for the rest of the staff to live devoid of glitter, cookies, and joy. Someone has to restore festive balance to this office.
Apparently, that someone is me. It’s the kind of challenge I relish.
I jot down a reminder to bring it up with Mr. Seasonal-Apathy himself, then dive headfirst into answering all five hundred of my emails.
Correction. Most are his emails which have been routed to me. And I'm grateful for the experience.
It’s an immersion in the business of Davenport Capital. Which is the investment arm of Davenport Group. The company backs emerging businesses and innovative ventures around the world. I’m riveted.
I soak up the information, managing to reply to most emails with a combination of logic and experience, as well as searching online for gaps in my knowledge. I become aware of a figure standing over me.
"You must be the new secretary.” He smiles a megawatt smile.
The kind which, combined with his high cheekbones, square jaw, and a suit that must cost more than my entire month’s salary, marks him out as a privileged prat.
The kind born with money raining down on him. The kind very similar to my boss.
"I’m Mr. Davenport's executive assistant." I keep my tone pleasant.
"My apologies." He presses his hand to his chest, a contrite expression on his face. "I was wondering why the board meeting was moved."
"And you are?"
"Whittington. I’m one of the board members."
Ah, he’s the one I left a message for earlier.
"Hello, Mr. Whittington." I nod. "I’m Lark Monroe. Mr. Davenport was pulled into something unavoidable and thus, had to re-schedule the board meeting."
"Something unavoidable?" His tone indicates he’s not buying the excuse I mentioned earlier.
"I’m afraid, I don’t know more."
"Surely, you have access to your boss’s agenda. You could tell me what he’s doing in its stead, couldn’t you?" He flashes me a smile, which I admit is charismatic. Instinctively, I know, it’s nowhere as magnetic as how it would be if Count Crankypants were to smile.
It does soften his attitude, somewhat.
I lean back in my seat and curve my lips. "I’m really sorry, but that is not information I can give out."
He doesn’t seem surprised. "Damn." He snaps his fingers. "And here I hoped my charm would buy me that information."
"Nope." I chuckle, his playful attitude beginning to thaw my wariness.
"How about I take you to dinner and you could, perhaps, tell me then?" His eyes are hopeful. His tone confident.
"No. Sorry." I laugh, not at all put off by his open flirtation. If anything, it’s refreshing after my boss’s sullen attitude.
"Why not?" He seems genuinely taken aback. "Right, you don’t know my name yet." He holds out his hand. "Kingly."
"Kingly?" I almost snort but stop myself in time.
He must notice my expression though, for he chuckles. "My mother was hopeful. I do think I haven’t turned out too badly." He strikes a pose. "What do you think?"
I pretend to study him, then shake my head. "Nope. Sorry. Not my type."
He pretends to be crushed. "Tough audience. Cut me some slack, will ya?"
I laugh, then lean in and beckon to him. He lowers his head.
"I have a fiancé."
"You do?" Thankfully, he doesn’t glance at my ringless left hand. He does look genuinely put out though. "Damn, why are the good ones always taken?"
"You’re good for my ego, though. Thank you."
"You’re welcome." He dips his head. "Kingly Whittington at your service."
I take his hand. “Pleased to meet—"
"If you’re done with the list I gave you, I have a lot more to add to it.” My boss stalks toward us, spine straight, head held high. I have a glimpse of a tightly held jaw. Of a nerve popping at his temple. Damn, he looks ready to blow another gasket.
I pull my hand back like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. This pang of unease running through me like I’ve done something wrong is so strange.
"Not yet. I’m…working my way through it." I wonder what’s got him all worked up.
Kingly looks from me to my boss. "Ol’ chap, I was asking Lark why the board meeting was postponed?"
“Have a meeting with Arthur instead,” Brody says in a brusque voice.
“Ah.” Kingly nods slowly. “Of course. And how is he?”
Brody ignores his question. “I need Ms. Monroe to sit in on a conference call.”
That’s rude. But Kingly doesn’t seem to notice. “Certainly. Don't let me keep you.” He steps aside, and when I rise to my feet, half bows to me. “Good to meet you, Lark.”
I frown. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he called me Lark to rile up my boss. His next words confirm it to me.
Kingly flashes me a flirtatious smile. “Your presence promises to liven up the proceedings of this otherwise boring office.”
Next to me, my boss bristles. With a half-smile at Kingly, so as not to ignite my boss’s ire further, I follow him into his office.
“Sit.” He gestures to one of the chairs at the conference table. Then takes his seat on the opposite side. “Kingly’s a player. You should keep your distance from him.” His jaw twitches.
I frown. “I barely spoke to him. Besides, if anyone was flirting, it was him, not me.”
He clenches his jaw. A muscle throbs at his cheekbone. He glares at me for a few seconds, then jerks his chin. “The upcoming video conference is with our Tokyo office. They want to discuss an expansion which will put us amongst the top ten companies in Asia.”
The screen on the wall signals an incoming call. He answers it. Over the next half an hour, I listen in as he listens to the proposal, analyzes the projections, and asks questions.
By the time the call is over, my head is whirling with excitement at the scope of the company’s business affairs, admiration for how insightful his questions were, and how clear his thinking was.
Now, he turns to me. “What do you think?”
I tamp down the panic that evokes. He’s asking for my opinion. It’s an opportunity to make an impression on my boss.
I gather my thoughts. “Their projections are aggressive. But your questions cut straight to the risks they didn’t address. Especially around local regulatory hurdles and talent acquisition. If we move forward, we’ll need a strategic partner on the ground.”
He studies me, one brow raised. “Anything else?”
I hesitate, then add. “It’s bold. And exactly the kind of move that could make us industry leaders. But if we’re willing to invest in more than capital. It’ll need vision. And leadership. Which you proved you have.”
His mouth curves. “I want you to be in charge of the project.”
“Me?” I widen my gaze. “You want to put a project potentially worth a billion dollars into the hands of a new, as yet untried, and basically unknown employee?”