Chapter 28 – Remington
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Back to Plan A
Remington
I enter the Hale building through the back entrance on Monday morning. I’m not in a good mood, and I don’t want to have to put on a fake smile for everyone. This entrance is only for executive-level employees, so it’s not nearly as busy as traipsing through the lobby.
I made a decision over the weekend. I’ve decided to send Mindy to work in the accounting department like my brothers suggested, which means I need to get started on interviews for a new executive assistant ASAP.
I’ll run down to HR later and get the names of everyone my father interviewed.
I’m sure he made copious notes, so that will help me to narrow it down and streamline the process.
Though I know it’s the correct decision, somehow it doesn’t sit right with me, hence my foul mood. Armed with the NDA Phoenix prepared in my briefcase, I head up the private elevator, which opens across from the coffee shop on the top floor.
The scent of java and something fruity and sweet wafts from the space, drawing me in and lifting my mood slightly. “Morning, Ambrosia. What smells so good in here?”
She pastes on a too bright smile. I know it will take time for everyone to be as comfortable with me as they were my dad, but I wish everyone would just chill the fuck out.
“Mr. Hale, hello. We have all our usual coffees, as well as scones and croissants. But you’re probably smelling these.” She lifts the glass cover on a cookie stand, and mother of god, that scent is absolutely delectable. Butter, sugar, and…
“Are those peaches?” I ask, peering at the treats, and she beams at me.
“Yes, peach pie cookies.”
“Do they taste as good as they look?” There’s some kind of cookie crust beneath a dollop of fruity filling, and they’re topped with pie crust strips in an intricate crisscross pattern.
“Even better,” she says, lifting a conspiratorial eyebrow. “Mindy brings in cookies every day from the bakery a few blocks away.”
Well, that name sours my mood again. “Mindy, huh?” I ask flatly, but Ambrosia doesn’t seem to notice. She’s too busy placing two of them on a pretty glass plate.
“Here you go. Would you like a coffee to go with that?”
I reluctantly take the damn cookies because I fucking want them. “Yes, black please.”
Two minutes later, I enter my executive suite and my already bad mood turns darker than midnight. Some asshole is perched on Mindy’s desk, obviously flirting with my goddamn assistant.
“...and that’s when I asked them not to take photos of me,” the man is saying. Mindy, to her credit, continues busily typing on her computer with a placid, obviously fake smile on her face as the guy chatters away. “I mean, I was just trying to do the right thing, you know?”
He receives a noncommittal mhmmm from my assistant before continuing his riveting tale. “I couldn’t just walk by and see an animal suffer because I’m not that kind of guy. I don’t know, some people might call me a hero, and maybe I am.”
This guy’s a complete douchenozzle. He’s sporting a haircut that’s circa 1992 boy band, and he’s wearing glasses.
Not that glasses are necessarily a bad thing.
Helix looks like Clark fucking Kent in his, and before he was married, women swooned all over the guy.
That’s why we call them his slutty little glasses.
But this guy’s spectacles make him look like a creeper who can only get off by peeking into women’s windows at night.
I’m ridiculously thrilled to see Mindy isn’t paying much attention to him, but then Spectacles Magoo says, “Anyway, enough about me. What are you doing for lunch today, Mindy? Because I have reservations at noon at this little spot not far from here.”
That’s when Mindy looks up from her computer and smiles at him. Fucking smiles! And yeah, that’s about all the bullshit I can tolerate, so I step further into the room.
“Excuse me, is this an office or a damn summer camp?” I growl. “Because if you’re about to braid each other’s hair or make friendship bracelets, I can come back later.”
Mindy’s head snaps toward me, and Spectacles Magoo stands so quickly he stumbles over his own feet, catching himself on one of the leather chairs at the last minute.
“Mr. Hale, so nice to see you, sir,” he says, straightening his jacket before holding out a hand. I flick my eyes down toward it before glaring into his face. If I wasn’t a complete psycho, I could set my stuff down and shake his hand, but I don’t, and he slowly lowers it.
“Who are you, and why are you in my office?”
Magoo looks like he’s about to piss himself. “I’m Dave Davis from accounting. I had to drop off some spreadsheets for Mindy.” He points to a large blue envelope on the corner of the desk.
I lift an unimpressed eyebrow. “Well, Dave from accounting, do I need to send one of the tech guys up to your floor to teach you how to attach a spreadsheet to an email?”
“Oh. No, sir. I know how to do that. I just thought printing them out and delivering them would encourage, um, better interpersonal relations within the office.”
I’m fully aware of what kind of interpersonal relations he’s interested in with my assistant, and I don’t like it one fucking bit.
“What it does is waste paper and other valuable resources. Maybe you need to take our environmental responsibility course again.” I turn toward the woman sitting behind the desk with her lips rolled between her teeth.
“Ms. Espinoza, can you get Dave from accounting set up for that course this weekend?”
She releases her lips, and I can’t help but stare at the deep mauve lipstick she’s wearing. It’s a matte finish and looks perfect with her coloring.
“Sure thing, Mr. Hale.” She lowers her head and begins typing.
I shift my gaze back to the left. “What are you still doing here, Magoo?”
“Right. Yep. Going back to work now. Mindy, just drop by my office if you want to go to lunch.”
He scurries away like a rat, and as soon as he’s gone, Mindy breaks loose with a laugh that reminds me why I like her so much. Correction, liked, past tense.
“Magoo?”
“Full name Spectacles Magoo,” I tell her, a reluctant smile on my lips.
She slaps a dramatic hand to her forehead. “Oh my god, those glasses are terrible. I don’t like to be mean, but he’s giving Dahmer vibes.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“Dave is really nice though. I can’t believe you’re making him re-take that environmental course.
It’s eight hours long and a total snoozefest.” She taps her lips with a pink pen.
“You know, everyone hates that course, which means it’s not very effective for its intended purpose.
If everyone is in a daze, they’re not actually learning about our environmental efforts as a company. ”
“It’s an important topic,” I argue.
“I agree, but maybe it can be done in a more effective way. The dude who narrates it sounds like that teacher from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.” Then she adopts Ben Stein’s nasally voice. “Bueller… Bueller.”
I’m finding it difficult to argue that point because she’s spot on. “Do you have a solution or do you just like to complain?”
“Hmmm, I could probably come up with something,” she replies confidently. “I’ll work on it.”
“Not before Saturday. Magoo is going to sit through the entire eight hours.”
She smiles, and it’s so full of mischief, it makes me want to smile too. But I hold back, reminding myself I’m trying to get rid of her, not play buddy-buddy.
“Noted. You have a busy day today, Mr. Hale. Four meetings this morning, but you should have time to eat your breakfast before the first one. Your schedule should be on your laptop.” Then she hops up and opens the door for me.
“Thank you, Ms. Espinoza,” I say formally.
“You’re welcome, sir,” she says before closing the door.
I place the coffee, cookies, and briefcase on my desk before sitting.
Picking up one of the cookies, I sink my teeth into it and groan at the first bite.
The crust is flaky and buttery, and the sugar cookie layer on the bottom is perfection, a slight crisp on the outside and soft in the center.
And the filling? God, it’s fantastic, an explosion of cinnamon and sugar, which is countered by the tart sweetness of the peaches.
I devour both of them, alternating sips of the hot dark-roast coffee, while I open my briefcase.
The manila envelope holding the NDA is staring me right in the face.
Pulling it out, I read over it. Mindy will be transferred to the accounting department, effective next Monday.
That gives me a week to find a suitable replacement for her.
There are financial penalties if she breaks the NDA and discusses her salary with anyone. It all seems standard and airtight. But…
My eyes hang on one word: Accounting. And all I can think of is goddamn Dave from motherfucking accounting, a.k.a. Spectacles Magoo. Mindy would be working in his department every single day.
Her words ring through my ears. Dave is really nice though.
Nice enough for her to accept his invitation to lunch? What if she takes him shopping for new frames and helps him pick out some slutty little man glasses? Would she be attracted to him then?
None of your business, Hale.
Right. It’s none of my business who she dates. I’ll have her sign this document, and she’ll be out of my hair by next Monday.
And then she’ll be in Magoo’s boy band hair.
“Still none of my business,” I say, standing so I can take the document out to her and explain the plan. She’ll probably be ecstatic. And why wouldn’t she be? She’ll be getting executive assistant pay for working in accounting.
I take two steps and halt. Do it. Just go out there and give her the papers to read and sign. I take another determined step, and a vision of her kissing Magoo flashes through my brain.
“Goddammit,” I mutter, whirling around and sticking the edge of the NDA into the top of my paper shredder. The grinding of paper is oddly satisfying, and then there’s nothing but silence.
I’m a complete and utter idiot.
Deciding another cookie would solve all my problems, I storm out of my office like a man on a sugar-fueled mission. Mindy looks up from her computer monitor, surprise registering on her face.
“Mr. Hale, is there something wrong with your schedule?”
“No,” I say, gruffly. “Getting more coffee.”
She stands, and the navy skirt she’s wearing rides up her thighs, tempting my gaze downward. “Oh, I can get that for you. Just let me know what you drink.”
“It’s fine. I’ll get it,” I say, stomping off before I can ogle her any more.
This was not the plan. I was supposed to get rid of Mindy Espinoza, and now I destroyed the NDA that would have done just that. Sure, I could have Phoenix print me another copy, but my dumb ass would probably shred that one too.
“Mr. Hale, long time, no see,” Ambrosia teases when I enter her domain.
I force a smile onto my face, though I don’t want to. “Can I get another coffee and one more cookie?”
Her shoulders slump. “I can do the coffee, for sure, but I’m sorry, Mr. Hale. All the cookies are gone now. They’re very popular with the staff.”
After pouring my coffee, she gives me an apologetic smile and promises, “I’ll save you three cookies tomorrow. How does that sound?”
“Sounds great. Thanks, Ambrosia.”
I walk slowly back toward my office, trying to figure out what to do. I don’t want Mindy in my office, but I can’t stomach the thought of her working in accounting. Hell, with the way she looks, I don’t think it matters which department I shuffle her off to. Someone is going to flirt with her.
So that takes me back to Plan A: Make her so miserable she quits without me having to fire her.
And this time, I’m sticking to it.