Chapter Nine #2
Flicking her hair back, Savannah settled at her desk. Normally, she wore it up and out of the way, but after the rude awakening, she hadn’t felt like messing with it.
In addition to the holo-meeting with Marketing, Stratos had five other meetings with various managers and an impromptu one-on-one with the CEO.
The latter hadn’t been on his calendar yesterday; she always gave his schedule a final check before leaving for the day.
The meeting must have been added overnight by the CEO’s assistant.
She hesitated to reschedule it, but she’d been given her marching orders. No interruptions.
Meetings consumed his day, every day; rearranging such a jam-packed calendar took some doing, but after considerable juggling, she got everybody moved.
Next, she reviewed the comms. Fifty-one this morning, and twenty-two requests were simple enough that she could handle them. She quickly summarized what people wanted, what she would do, what required action from him, and shot the report over to him.
Her kaffii had gotten cold; she’d forgotten to drink it. It would be just her luck as soon as she dashed to the cafeteria for another one, he’d need something.
The requisition for a machine had gotten hung up in Purchasing, “on back order” for the past seven months. She’d told the department to cancel it and order a different one, but so far that hadn’t happened. How was it a vice president couldn’t get a damn kaffii machine?
Maybe he’d pissed off Purchasing. They probably wouldn’t mess with something important, but they might drag their feet on a kaffii machine. Having to run to the cafeteria just for kaffii all the time was damned inconvenient, especially since she’d started drinking it, too.
Better get going.
Cracking his door open, she peeked inside.
He’d added onto the virtual model. Bigger now, it took up half his desk.
Unaware of her scrutiny, he peered at the holographic structure, his fingers dragging and drawing.
His face was more expressive than she’d ever seen it, his brows furrowed in concentration, lips curved with delight.
He looked engaged, challenged, and happy.
He’s so cute when he plays by himself.
Cute?
He was not cute. In general, she did not find the hulking, bald, Oberian men with their heavy features attractive, and Stratos’ brusque, rude personality did nothing to enhance his physical appeal.
Still, she conceded that his deep, rumbling voice could be considered sexy by some women, and his lavender skin was objectively beautiful, as were the deep-purple swirls on his head.
She’d first thought the artistic, intricate patterns were inked rather than natural, until she noticed all the men had them.
No two were the same; like fingerprints, they were unique to the individual.
If women had them, they were covered up by their hair. Another interesting feature about Oberians—only women had hair on their heads.
She eased the door closed and took the tube to the cafeteria.
She picked up two kaffiis, one for her and another for him, and a nuknuk for herself, deciding to try it. Stratos sure enjoyed them, and she’d skipped breakfast. Her apartment was now stocked with palatable meals, but Aaia had awakened her too early to face food.
Back at the office, she set her breakfast on the desk and entered his lair to replace his empty cup with a full one. He didn’t acknowledge her presence in any way, and she tiptoed away.
“Thanks,” he said, before she exited.
“You’re welcome,” she replied.
“That’s the second thank-you, since you’re keeping track.”
“You might become civilized yet.”
“Don’t count on it.”
She laughed and slipped out the door.
* * * *
He’d never heard her laugh before. He would never tell her, but he could listen to her pleasing voice all day. Her musical laugh sounded like joy itself. She should laugh more.
He’d been incredulous when she’d accused him of never thanking her for her efforts, but he hadn’t been able to produce a single incident to prove her wrong.
Social conventions always seemed like window-dressing, insincerity applied to mask reality.
But he did believe in giving credit where credit was due.
She saved him a lot of time and made his work life easier.
There were far fewer annoying interruptions. Comms didn’t ding at him all day. He heard far fewer complaints. Less burdened by the mundanities, he had more time to focus on important matters. The department ran much smoother and more efficiently now.
Every day, she seemed to get more unhomely.
He took a sip of his fresh, hot kaffii.
He benefited enormously from her working here, but what did she get out of it? Office gossip had deemed him the worst boss to work for—or so Corona had informed him. Did Savannah still think he was an asshole?
And why was he ruminating about her? Don’t get distracted. Stay on task. Forcing her from the forefront of his mind, he studied what he’d designed so far. This invention might be his best one yet.
He rubbed the tingling markers on his temple. They seemed extra sensitive today.
Shrugging off the sensation, he dove into his work.
* * * *
The nuknuk turned out to be rather palatable—one of the more tolerable things she’d eaten, and she decided to try another one tomorrow. With her belly full, Stratos occupied with his project, she dug into a long overdue project.
She could tell the files had been organized once, back when Verilla had worked for him.
But, left to his own devices, he hadn’t bothered to follow her system.
Where applicable folders existed, she transferred the misfiled projects to the appropriate folder and then created new categories for the remainder and relocated the documents.
The possibility he might not be able to find anything wasn’t a huge concern.
He couldn’t find anything now, and he constantly barked at her for documents, getting impatient when it took longer than a split second to retrieve them.
This new system would work much better for her—and get him off her back.
A little worrisome—the memo had vanished.
She’d reviewed every single project, file, and message, and it wasn’t there.
She could think of only two possible explanations for its disappearance.
First, the system might automatically delete old messages, and she may have just happened to read it right before it got erased.
Or, second, the sender might have deleted it, which would suggest someone in Personnel had gotten a receipt the message had been read and had an oh-shit moment.
Nothing I can do about it now. She had enough to occupy her time without worrying about a memo that no longer existed. Better to focus on the positive—the new efficient, logical filing system she had created.
Proud of her accomplishment, she was scrolling through the neatly identified and organized folders with a satisfied smile when a holo-comm popped up, and she found herself staring into the steely gray eyes of a woman with deep-purple skin and a short, sleek cap of gray hair.
Normally comms announced themselves with a ding, giving the recipient the option of responding live or sending it to a holding queue to be reviewed later.
“Who are you?” the woman demanded.
Her hackles went up at the supercilious tone, but she said calmly, “I’m Savannah Mays, Stratos’ executive assistant. May I help you?”
“No, you may not. Why isn’t my son taking my calls?”
Ah. Yeah, she could see the resemblance in the forbidding expression and the haughty tone.
“He’s…” Busy? Not taking calls? In a meeting?
Not in the office? Which white lie would be the most tactful way of refusing to let her speak to him?
She needed to be polite but firm. He had been adamant.
No interruptions. Not for any reason or anybody.
“Stratos is not in the office at the moment, but I’ll let him know you’re trying to reach him when he returns.” It was important not to promise more than she could deliver. She had no control over whether he called her back.
The woman’s already-cold gaze turned frigid. “That is not true. Put me through to him immediately.”
Certainty wavered. Maybe I should make an exception? Or check with him? She only had the woman’s claim she was Stratos’ mother, but she didn’t doubt it. He did say nobody for any reason. If there were exceptions, he should have said so; she’d given him plenty of opportunity. “I apologize, but—”
The hologram vanished.
Savannah winced. I don’t think that went well. She’d take a peek at him. If he didn’t look too busy, she’d tell him about the call. But when she poked her head into his office, he was laser-focused on his project. She eased the door shut.
Lunch, then. She’d eat and when she brought something back for him, she’d mention his mother had called so she wouldn’t have to interrupt him twice.
In the cafeteria line, she studied the options in dismay.
All the items were new; none of the ones she knew she could tolerate were offered today.
She couldn’t keep skipping meals! Eying the entrees, she mentally played eenie, meenie, miney, mo and pointed at mo. “That one,” she told the robo server.
“Not that one!” said an American-accented male voice.
She spun around to find a human man behind her. “You’re from Earth!”
“How can you tell?” Brown eyes crinkled with humor.
“What do you recommend?” she asked.
“She’ll take the ropaq. I’ll have the same,” he told the robo.
Ropaq. She repeated the entrée name to herself so she could remember. “What’s in it?” she asked as the robo dished it up.
“Mystery meat,” the man replied. “But it tastes like chicken.”
She laughed. “Really?”
“As close as we’re going to get. I’m Brad Benson, by the way.”
“Savannah Mays.”
The robo passed them their trays.
“Care to share a table?” Brad asked.