Chapter 29
ALEX
Istare at my schedule.
What the…
“Brooke, get in here,” I all but shout down the phone.
There is a brief knock before the door opens.
“What the hell is this?” I ask, motioning to my computer.
She wrinkles her nose in a way that makes me want to pull her closer and kiss it smooth.
Bloody hell, this woman has really got under my skin.
My attraction to her has been even worse since her heartfelt apology. What I really wanted to say was, ‘If that was a kiss, then you’ve got a lot to learn. If I had kissed you, you wouldn’t have questioned it.’
But despite what my body wants, that is never going to happen. A relationship with Brooke is off the cards!
“This…” I say again, my frustration rising.
She moves towards my desk, her eyes locking on my screen.
“Oh, that. I rearranged your schedule.”
“You what?”
“Rearranged your schedule. You’re working too many hours, eating lunch at your desk and leaving late. It’s not healthy.”
I stare at her, clenching my jaw.
Who the hell does she think she is?
“So, this is how you spent your free time?”
She shrugs. “Just take a look at it,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest, looking down at me.
“I didn’t ask for this.”
“No, you didn’t, but your current schedule is running you ragged.”
“My current schedule?”
I open and close my mouth.
She’s not wrong but—
“Who the hell do you think you are? You’re not my mother. You’re my fucking PA.”
“I may be your PA, but I won’t be spoken to like that. I’m going to leave now. We can continue this conversation when you’ve calmed down.”
“You’re what?” I stare at her wide-eyed.
“I’m going to leave and return to my desk,” she says, moving towards the door. “Look at the changes. If you don’t like them, then I’ll return the schedule to your previous, totally inefficient one. But I think if you just take…”
“Get out.” I release a frustrated huff.
She turns without a backward glance, closing the door softly behind her.
What the hell!
Although she’s not wrong, my schedule since returning from Italy has blown up.
With Christmas fast approaching, followed by the new year and the various fashion weeks, my life is already a little crazy.
Add the rumour that someone is trying to sell our designs illegally to one of our competitors, despite there being no physical evidence, and it becomes even more chaotic.
I run a hand through my hair in frustration and glance once more at the schedule.
It’s not permanent. It can be revoked.
I stare at it. Glare is probably more accurate.
It’s fucking colour-coded like the rainbow.
What am I, five?
I flick through, pulling up the weekly view.
All my meetings are present, although it looks like a couple have been shifted.
I pull up the email Brooke included.
Meetings (Blue): I’ve spoken with the various managers and tried to group meetings whenever possible to reduce travel time. Any that could not be moved for logistical purposes have remained in place.
Travel time (Green):
Focus Time (Purple): Time for you to review documents.
Free Time (Orange): For any additional work or unscheduled meetings.
The list goes on. It’s as though she’s taken my working week and broken it down into manageable chunks. She understands what my job entails and has made every demand on my time visible and feasible.
Finally, she’s included a thirty-minute lunch break every day.
I sit back and stare at the planner.
I don’t remember the last time I scheduled lunch that didn’t involve a meeting of some type.
She’s done what she said and made my schedule efficient. Something not even Callie could do. Not that I ever let her. I would have snapped at her just as I did Brooke. Brooke, on the other hand, has made the changes and then asked for forgiveness. I’ll give the woman credit. She has balls!
I flick through the days in more detail. I’ve muddled through for so long, my intensity and drive meaning I’ve tried to do everything. One tiny scrap of a woman has come in, seen what was needed and said, ‘You can do better.’
Shit. I owe her an apology.
I rub the back of my neck and pick up the phone.
“Brooke, get in here.”
She sighs but doesn’t argue.
The door opens a second later.
“I can put it back to how it was,” she says, her voice dejected.
“Don’t,” I say.
Her eyes widen and lock on mine.
“I reacted impulsively before, and I apologise. I hate change, but you’re right. I’m expending far too much energy when a few tweaks mean I can have a lunch break.” I sigh. “It’s a hundred times more efficient use of my time.”
“And should help prevent you from getting a stomach ulcer,” she interjects in little more than a whisper.
“That too,” I say, letting her know I heard her. Her cheeks flush. “Leave the changes in place. I’m happy to try it if those managers whose meetings have moved are also happy.”
“They are,” she says quickly.
I catch her gaze. “This is good,” I say. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions.”
Her lips tilt at the edges. “You’re welcome.”
Without saying anything else, she moves towards the door.
“Brooke.”
She stops and turns, her hand resting on the door handle.
My heart lurches. Shit, this is dangerous. She’s taking control of my life, looking out for me.
My need for control baulks.
“Where did you learn to think like this?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Which part? The impulsive part? Or the organisational part?”
I chuckle.
“The impulsive part I can see. More the organisational?”
“I used to help my mother with her diary. I tend to see when something isn’t working, and I have to make changes to correct it. I hate wasted time and effort.”
She doesn’t expand any further, and it makes me wonder what her mother does.
“Let’s see how it goes,” I say, earning myself a nod as she lets herself out.
I sit back, my gaze returning to the screen. I hate someone else taking control, but if this works… I’ll regain some control of my life.
I pick up my phone and send a message to the guys.
ME:
Dinner at 7:30?
LEO:
I’m in.
DANTE:
Thought you’d never ask.
ORLANDO:
Can be there for 8.
DAVID:
Callie has her mum staying, so hell yes.
David’s comment makes me chuckle. I’ve missed our past couple of get-togethers, life having taken over, but glancing at the schedule, maybe that’s about to change.