Chapter 7
Tracy
My new Christian Louboutin pumps click against the white tiled floor as I tromp up the stairs to the second floor of The Frenshaw Group. Why the heck don’t they have an elevator? That has to be some kind of ADA violation.
After I passed my real estate exam, I splurged and bought myself this red pair of heels that I’d been eyeing forever. They’re gorgeous. And also making my feet hurt like hell.
Still, I plaster a smile on my face when I reach the top step, even though my feet are screaming at me.
“You’re early,” Whitney says in greeting when she sees me.
What is it with this family? They’re all blunt as hell. Not that I’m not, but still, it’s my first day. They should be nice to me, maybe buy me a coffee, compliment my heels or something. That’s what I would do.
Whitney sits behind her desk, that long black hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail today.
Paired with her fitted black blouse, she looks like a force to be reckoned with.
The bullishness must run in the family. Along with strong genes.
She has the same tan complexion as Blake, and the matching green eyes, too.
“Good morning to you, too,” I say sarcastically, but make sure to beam as much as humanly possible as I walk over to her desk.
“Sorry.” At least she has the good grace to look apologetic. “Blake just won’t be happy that you’re early. He’s kind of a control freak with his schedule.”
“Oh, I won’t bother him.” I pat the laptop bag slung over my shoulder. “I planned to just set up in one of the spare offices until he finished his meeting.”
Her brows draw together as she peers at me over her computer. “His meeting?”
“Yes?” I give her a questioning look right back and explain, “He texted me yesterday to come in later because he had a meeting this morning.”
“Oh, that asshole,” she says, her eyes practically rolling out of her head. “Come on.”
Whitney rounds her desk, and to my surprise, grabs my hand and drags me down the hallway to Blake’s office. It’s all I can do not to trip in my new, uncomfortable, difficult to walk in but pretty as hell, heels.
“Ummm,” I say, feet shuffling awkwardly as blisters start to form on my pinky toe and heel. “Care to tell me what’s going on here?”
She drops my hand halfway down the hall. “He has a meeting at eleven. His morning was completely empty. I’m guessing he told you to come in late so he could minimize his time with you before passing you on to someone else.”
Ouch.
My face must reflect the hurt I feel at that, because she winces. “Sorry. Trust me, it’s not you. He’s just a raging dick sometimes. He’s so damn picky about who he lets join the brokerage, he’s probably hoping you’ll just quit before the three months are up.”
“Glad to know he’s invested in my success,” I mumble. Maybe forcing him to let me join was a mistake. If he’s not going to take this seriously, maybe I would have been better going somewhere else. To a brokerage that saw the value I could bring and would be more inclined to help me.
Because I know I can be great. Stealing my spine, I resume toward Blake’s office.
Screw him. I’ll be successful with or without his help. Hell, even better without his help, because then I can rub it in his face every time he signs one of my commission checks.
“I got it from here,” I tell Whitney over my shoulder, and I swear I see something like satisfaction in her eyes as I grab the doorknob to Blake’s office and storm in.
He sits behind his desk, a tendril of his dark hair falling onto his forehead as he hunches over a stack of papers. He’s dressed more casual today—really casual—in a fitted gray t-shirt. My white jumpsuit suddenly feels wedding worthy by comparison.
I clear my throat and his eyes widen when he looks up to see who just barged into his office. “What are you doing here already? It’s only eight-thirty.”
Seriously, does no one here say ‘good morning’? I refrain from rolling my eyes.
“Good morning to you, too,” I say acrimoniously for the second time already today.
“I came in early to get a jump start on my day and get familiar with the office. And wouldn’t you believe my luck when Whitney so kindly informed me that your morning freed up.
” I give him my signature smile even though I want to throw one of my new heels at him.
No, my heels don’t deserve that. “So, lucky for you, I’m already here and we can get started early. ”
“I’m unavailable until ten,” he says, leaning back in his chair as he shoves the hair off his forehead.
“So, your text yesterday about the meeting was a lie? Because clearly, you aren’t in one.”
He arches a brow at me, his eyes dipping to my chest and lingering before connecting with mine again.
The heat in his gaze has me shifting and adjusting the bag on my shoulder.
Maybe my jumpsuit is a little too low cut?
Or maybe he’s pissed at me for being here early?
Or maybe he’s pissed at me about the jumpsuit?
I’d say it’s about a fifty-fifty-fifty chance it could be any of those options, which makes no sense, but his gaze suddenly has my brain not really wanting to work right.
The way those green eyes absolutely pierce me is unsettling.
“Are you always this curt?” he asks instead of answering me. Which is ironic because he and his sister are equally straightforward.
“It’s part of my charm.” I toss him a wink and make my way to one of the chairs across from him. “So, since you obviously did lie about your meeting, let’s get to it.”
I set my bag on the ground and pull out my laptop.
I’m not quite sure what we’ll be doing, but I suddenly feel the need to create a barrier between us with the screen, if for no other reason than to keep his eyes off my chest because it’s doing something funny to my brain.
Not to mention it’s extremely inappropriate. Maybe I’ll wear a turtleneck tomorrow.
Blake sighs, grabbing the stack of papers he was looking at and shoving them into a desk drawer. “Did Whitney send you all the onboarding paperwork?” he asks, opening his own laptop.
“Yes, I filled it all out last night,” I say.
“All of it?” He catches my gaze over our screens.
“Yes.”
He scoffs. “Did you even read it? There’s at least a hundred pages of forms there. Plus the policy handbook.”
“Yes,” I drone, “I did. And I signed all of them except the one regarding commissions because we never came to an agreement yesterday on how you wanted to structure that, since you’ll be training me personally.” I motion toward myself. “You know, protégé.”
He leans back in his chair again, crossing his arms over his chest. The way his tee hugs his biceps and all that golden skin is quite distracting, so I force my eyes back to my screen and open up the commission form.
Maybe he should also wear a turtleneck tomorrow. With long sleeves.
“Standard split for agents new to the brokerage is eighty-twenty for personal business and sixty-forty for any business I give you. But since you’ll require…
extra attention, I think your offer of fifty-fifty for all business is acceptable, and we can re-evaluate the split after a year.
” He smirks at me. “That is, assuming you’re still here by then. ”
“I will be.”
“You seem so certain of that.” It comes out as more of a question, and I look up to find him looking at me with genuine curiosity on his face.
Lowering my laptop lid, I tell him honestly, “You’re the best in the business.
Why would I want to settle for mediocrity when I can aim to be with the best?
Even if I fail, at least I’ll know I tried, which is more than most people can say.
” I open my laptop back up to edit the commission form.
“Besides, I don’t take no for an answer, remember?
So, even if you told me I had to leave, I wouldn’t. ”
A low chuckle rumbles out of him, and I peer back up over my screen to see the most gorgeous smile on his face. It has my fingers pausing over the keys.
“You’re going to be a real pain in my ass, you know that?” he asks, but there’s a glint in his eyes as he says it, suggesting it isn’t entirely an insult.
I shrug it off. The look in his eyes and what he said. “What can I say? I like to keep things exciting.”
“Mmmm,” he hums. “Transformative indeed.” I barely have time to register his reference to yesterday before he adds, “Edit that commission form and send it back to me to sign.”
“Already did,” I tell him.
He spends the next hour setting up access to all the programs I’ll need, then sends me off to the seating area in his office to get my accounts created while he takes a call. As I’m making up the ten thousandth password of the morning, I can’t help but to keep glancing at him at his desk.
He’s got his phone pressed to his ear, talking to someone about some zoning restrictions, and every once in a while he flips through the stack of papers he was looking at when I barged in earlier.
I can’t help but notice the way the muscles in his forearms shift every time he rummages through those papers.
The way his large hands and long fingers move with deft precision as he thumbs through the stack looking for something specific.
Or the way the muscle on the side of his neck flexes when he tilts his head to wedge his phone between his ear and shoulder.
The fact that he’d rather awkwardly brace the phone like that than put the call on speaker tells me he doesn’t want me privy to whatever business he has going on.
Which is fine with me. I can respect his privacy, and that sexy bulge in his neck.
God, why does he have to be so attractive? Those lazy black locks and that perfectly cut jaw, and his gorgeous smile I was fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of earlier…
He lifts his eyes, locking onto mine, and that’s when I realize I’m now staring.
A slow, cocky smile slides over his face, and I can’t help the fluttering in my stomach. Whether it’s from being caught or from that smile, I don’t know.