Chapter 2
Saige
After hitting print with two copies of the report shot out from the printer, I stood and smoothed down my skirt. Mr. Chertov had already retreated to his office, confident I’d follow.
I grabbed the spreadsheets, not bothering to staple them. He liked paper placed in his hands, preferring the bold print instead of staring at my work on a computer screen. I’d learned a long time ago to close the door behind me. What was said in his office was to stay between the two of us.
He’d told me once he’d taken me into his confidence, yet I knew nothing about him other than that he was obviously a very wealthy man who demanded perfection.
Along with his tailored suits I was certain came directly from his frequent trips to Sicily and Rome, he drove a sleek black Porsche and enjoyed high-dollar Macallan Red scotch, which I’d learned at the Christmas party.
I still couldn’t get the disgusting taste from my mouth. Or was that his kiss instead?
I’d been Tawny’s plus one, her in between boyfriends’ status my personal gain when I’d applied for the position as a financial analyst. Of course, like Tawny had said, the job had turned out to be a glorified assistant position, but since up until then I’d used my expensive degree as a coffee barista, beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Money meant more to me than I cared to admit to anyone.
I had my reasons some might call noble. However, I was at the point of selling my body or my soul to advance my career and my boss didn’t see me as anything but a glorified paper pusher.
Before Stash had hired me, he’d gone through three other assistants, his tough reputation driving nails into their coffins.
But I was even more resilient than he was.
Of that I was firmly convinced. While he was formidable when standing across from his six-foot five-inch frame, he was equally so when sitting behind his sleek mahogany desk.
As he was right now, commanding in a way that could drive the most confident person away. But I wasn’t easily impressed or frightened. When you lived in New York, you learned to expect and see anything.
After placing his copy of the report on his desk, I expected his usual behavior of taking ten full minutes of going through it line by line. I’d initially believed he’d been trying to make me feel incompetent but had quickly realized he was simply that methodical.
I expected the same behavior so when he pushed it away, I was caught off guard.
“Is there something wrong, Mr. Chertov?”
His gaze was long and hard, a tactic he used on his enemies.
And I’d been party to his destruction of a few, companies and financial institutions where the corporate funds were distributed.
I’d learned on day one he didn’t appreciate anyone telling him what to do.
No matter what he’d said to me that night that I hoped one day to forget. He was that confident in his abilities.
I’d even witnessed him bringing a man to tears with two short sentences, following through with running the guy out of town as a follow-up exercise. While I wouldn’t admit it, I admired his gruff and to the point manner.
Crumbling empires seemed to be his only hobby, doing so while never breaking a sweat and remaining dazzling.
The wafting of his aftershave was more powerful today, a delicious combination of aged leather, cedar, and intense exotic spices.
If I was still attracted to him, and that was something else I’d never admit to, I’d say he appeared even more handsome than usual.
“Sit down, Ms. Mitchell.”
While he’d never used my first name up to this point, the way he accentuated the syllables on my last were entirely different today. More formal. That should make me nervous, but with him, I already was.
I sat down, careful to tug my skirt before my butt hit the seat. The air between us seemed more charged than usual, maybe because he was actively staring at me. Not in passing.
Not to acknowledge my existence, the only way he did. But with a heavy dose of scrutiny.
Whatever was going on, I was more nervous than I’d intended on being. Today, the mood was oppressive and I’d jump out of my skin if I didn’t shatter the fragile space between us.
“I believe you’ll find what you’re looking for in the report, Mr. Chertov.
I’ve made some comparisons with Club Elegance and the new hotel in Boston.
I think you’ll see that in regard to your concern about opening on time, there’s no possibility of a true financial loss with providing opening specials.
In checking with the marketing department, they are confident with the numbers of interested parties, eager to make a reservation as soon as the opportunity is made available. ”
He was sitting back in his comfy leather chair, one hand resting lightly on the desk’s surface.
Just… staring at me. I’d say this was also typical except his eyes were searching mine, digging deep into my psyche.
I considered one of my top skills observing people’s behavior.
You could learn eighty percent about a stranger from watching them for five minutes.
When his gaze flickered to my crossed legs, a moment of unexpected heat shifted across my neck and rode the underside of my jaw.
He’d never made a single comment about my professional attire, mostly because I’d placed myself in the classification of professional every day. I prided myself in doing so.
Where Tawny could get away with cute outfits and bold colors given her work in the marketing department, I’d chosen a career path mostly ruled by powerful men. That’s why I tried to be as asexual as possible.
Yet right now, for the second time it felt as if he was undressing me with his eyes, the first time at work.
They were already mesmerizing enough, ice blue and often shimmering depending on the light level.
Where they were normally devoid of any emotion, today they appeared to hold a hint of amusement.
Had I spilled coffee on my blouse before running out of the house?
Shit. That’s when I realized why I was getting the chastising looks. I’d forgotten to change my tennis shoes into my pumps. Damn it.
I shifted my feet, curling my toes in my shoes. At least they were cute, or so I thought. Bright pink in color. Not my usual, but they were easy to find blurry eyed in the morning and they’d been a steal at the big box discount store.
When I had the nerve to look him in the eyes again, I could swear there was more than just a flicker of interest. My God, the man was hot in his glasses, the dark frames accentuating his long obsidian eyelashes and the sparkle of what I considered mischievous thoughts keeping him amused.
When he wore them, he reminded me of Clark Kent.
How interesting that the night we’d met, we’d both chosen not to wear our glasses. As if doing so had been much of a disguise.
My, oh, my. Every inch of my skin was popping with tiny goosebumps from the thought alone.
He lifted his gaze, immediately looking out of the five windows in his massive office. I had no idea what to expect, and that was far more uncomfortable than anything he’d tossed my way before.
A full minute passed.
I’d also learned after the first few days of being enamored by him that the best way to deal with his attitude was just to wait it out. He adored testing me and I enjoyed thwarting him.
But for about a dozen reasons, I was more nervous than I’d been even when interviewing with him. And that hadn’t gone very well since we’d both remembered but had refused to acknowledge our brief but passionate affair. Or what I’d said about jerks in general.
If my outburst had bothered him, I hadn’t known it. Maybe to him, I was nothing but an annoyance or a method of getting his grunt work done. I could usually wait him out, but not today.
“Mr. Chertov. Would you like me to go over the numbers in more detail?”
“That won’t be necessary, Ms. Mitchell. I’m certain what you’ve told me is true. I’ll initiate final approval on our latest hotel.”
What? He wasn’t fighting me on the numbers, making me go through hoops just to prove I wasn’t a financial idiot? I did have a Master of Science in financial economics from Columbia University, but no one seemed to care.
Including this man.
Maybe I’d awakened in an alternate world this morning.
“So I understand that you’re hoping to become a financial advisor.”
What? He’d paid attention to my rambling attempt at boosting my resume during my interview months ago. “Yes, sir, I am.”
“I take it that means you’re not happy here.”
Did he expect honesty? Was this the great big send off?
Thanks for your time but don’t let the door hit you in the ass?
Just in case I still had a job when I walked out of his office, I offered another more poignant smile.
“No, I love working here. However, I have my heart set on being involved in creating wealth for my clients through investments. And making some serious money on the stock exchange floor.”
He sat perfectly still as if waiting for more.
When I called his bluff in remaining quiet, he nodded.
Just once. If I’d blinked, I would have missed it.
“Very well, Ms. Mitchell. Have a report on my desk regarding your idea of taking the company public, the ramifications of doing so versus ignoring the possible necessity. And at the same time, provide me with a concept of diversifying with regard to investments. Specifically, I’m looking for purchasing stock for strategic partnerships. ”
I found myself leaning forward. “Are you serious?”
“I assure you, Ms. Mitchell, that I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t serious.” He leaned back and, in my mind, was thoroughly enjoying my utter confusion.
He’d never asked me to come up with projections of this nature before. Even with my mouth dry, I was instantly giddy. But I refused to show it.
You go, girl. Show him your stuff.