Chapter 2
Julianna
“You can’t do it. I don’t care how charming you think you are, Jules. Not even your over-polished magnetism is going to keep her here past quitting time. Your interns don’t stick around for you, no matter how many of them you’ve… personally cultivated before.”
“Our interns.” How many times must I remind Presley that we share equal responsibility for the people under our employment? “I’m sure I could make it happen, thanks.”
Presley Bradford advances on my desk, both hands splaying across the oak. Her perfume is a spicy concoction compared to my more subdued but powerful florals. Her hair is a mess because she never bothered to comb it after walking out of the wind, whereas I’m not above spending five minutes in my private bathroom making sure I’m perfectly presentable. Her cufflinks don’t match her tie-clip, and it pisses me off. Could she at least pretend to try? I mean, if you’re going to wear a pantsuit, you should match, damnit. But Presley Bradford in a dress? Her butch persona would spontaneously combust, leaving behind a still-breathing shell of a stale soul. It’s not happening.
Where were we?
“You are not God’s gift to everybody, sorry, hate to break it to you.”
I push her tie aside as it attempts to smudge the forms I’m signing at eight on a Friday night. “It’s not about my charm,” I say. “It’s about persuasion. Something you wouldn’t understand.”
“Persuasion?” Presley laughs. “Fine. Let’s call it that. But I’m telling you, you’re slipping. I don’t care how much time you spend primping in your office mirror. You’ve lost your seductive touch, especially with the younger ladies.”
“And this concerns you because…?”
“Because it’s dull around here, Jules. No spark. No risk. When was the last time you even had fun with this… habit of yours?”
Presley always finds a way to bring up my “habits.” The occasional secret rendezvous, the calculated thrill of crossing professional boundaries just enough to get away with the harmless crime—it’s not something I brag about, but Presley knows me too well.
“You want me to humor you, is that it?” I lean back in my chair, studying her as she leans farther into my space, completely unapologetic.
“I want you to prove you still have the edge. Pick an intern. Any intern. Call her up here, keep her entertained for an hour, and let’s see if you’ve still got it.”
“You’re joking.”
“Oh, I am not.” She stands, her grin taking five years off her age. “Wanna bet on it?”
A bet? How old are we again?
“I’m not betting anything,” I say. Can’t even look at her right now.
“I’m serious. Call up any female intern you want. See? I’ll let you have the advantage of choosing which one. Preferably one leaving at the end of the quarter, though. I know your confidence loves to cause drama from here to Miami.”
“I don’t understand why we’re discussing this.”
Presley likes to invite herself into my office, both during and after work, all the damn time. Yet this is probably one of her most annoying impromptu visits in a while. She walked in talking about going to a club later to pick up a girlfriend, and oh, did I want to tag along? Because, as she was keen on reminding me, I haven’t gotten “mad action” in a couple of weeks. For shame. Been cooping myself up in my office trying to get caught up on the quarterly reports. I do this every third month. You’d think Presley would be used to it by now.
“Because we need to spice some things up around this office. Remember college? We got into so much trouble.”
“Yes, but it’s years later and we’re not acting like that any longer.” Presley needs to grow up. She’s a brilliant businesswoman, but her personal life is a mess. Usually, it’s not my problem if she keeps it clean for our corporation. Shit like this, though? Frustrating.
“Come on. This once. Humor me. You know you want to.”
A snort shoots through my nostrils. “What? I pick a random woman and… what? Try to seduce her as if I’ve been thinking about it for weeks?” I’m being kind to myself here. Usually, when I set my gaze on a short-term office romance, I think about it for a whole month. You know, weighing the pros and cons of possibly upending the office and getting in trouble. I’ve never dated an intern or some other employee who didn’t enjoy every hour of me spoiling her silly, but there’s always a first time for ending up in the news for the wrong reasons.
“Sure. Two-hour time limit. If you can call her here under other pretenses by the time I get back at 10:30, you win the bet.”
“What the hell do I win?”
“Besides a good time with a charming young woman? Whatever you want me to do. Because I’m proving a point here.”
I say the first term that comes to mind. “You’re heading all the staff meetings. For the next month.”
“The next month? Deal.” Maybe that’s not a big deal for her, but it is for me. I hate every social aspect of this job, particularly those that demand me to talk to people who are way below my intellect. I have to explain everything. Be patient with them. Talk to them like they’re five. And that’s only their jobs. God help me if we’re at a social function and they make an ass out of themselves. I had to take etiquette classes growing up. Why didn’t the fools we employ? I know Oregon has some of the worst public education in the country, but really, they can’t swing a diplomacy lesson here or there? Besides, so many of our ignorant interns come from out of the state. I honestly expect more of the New York and Boston ones, but here we are.
I sigh again. “I’m sure you have something up your sleeve if I lose the bet.”
“If I win? Oh, hm, let’s see.” Presley taps her chin. “If I win, you have to come to Rio with me so we can get you some action.”
“I’m not going to Rio.” Presley’s been planning an excursion to Brazil for the past month. She gets around the PNW, but our jobs are demanding enough that we rarely get real vacations, and this trip to Brazil is supposed to be a giant sexcapade. That she keeps inviting me to. Please, like both of us can go on vacation for a week. We don’t have time for that. I’m working double to cover her ass that week.
Besides, if I’m going on vacation, I’d rather head to Europe and appreciate some fine art and cuisine. The party scene is not me. Give me a few good friends, a private room with a poker table, and let the French wine destroy our livers.
“You’ll come with me to Rio if you lose the bet. We’re shaking on it.”
She holds her hand across my desk. Reluctantly, I shake it. “This is the last stupid bet we’re making for a while.”
Presley pulls a stack of personnel files from the corner cabinet. The ones we print out as backups in case “the grid” goes down. “Admit it. You like the challenge.”
“I thought my argument was that seducing women wasn’t a challenge.” It’s not, either. I’ve never had a problem getting female attention when I want it. Let alone like this. We’re not even talking about dating here. Even then? Any woman I want. It’s almost boring.
“That’s what I’m saying. It will be a fun challenge.” Presley hands me the stack of files for our female interns. “Go on. Have your pick. Call her up here for some stupid reason, like you need a file. Then seduce her.
“What?”
“Uh, I mean… well, keep her entertained for an hour. I’ll be back at 10:30. I’ll need proof.”
“What are you talking about?” I’m still hung up on her assertion that I will be seducing anyone. “What kind of proof.”
She winks at me.
“Fine. Whatever.” I wave away the files. “Pick for me. I need to finish this column.” I go back to my spreadsheet as if I don’t care about the woman I’m doomed to spend two hours with.
Presley takes her time going through the files, occasionally whistling, chuckling, or bemoaning that she wants a try with a certain young co-ed. We employ five female interns and five male. They come from all over the country, most of them graduated or attending the local business schools.
The one she shoves in my direction? Is the youngest… and still an undergrad.
“Alessa, huh?” I barely note her last name. Her headshot is enough to make me snort. Wavy chestnut hair frames her round face. Beautiful, bold, daring me to ask her up to my corner CEO’s office so I can… spend time with her.
“All right. The one who messes up her figures more than any of the other interns.” That’s the only reason I recognize her at all. She’s one of the few people I’ve personally sought out so I could correct her work. I hate cleaning up sloppy intern jobs. I wouldn’t even allow interns if they weren’t such cheap labor salivating for “experience.” As the woman who works with numbers around here, I love cutting costs and still maintaining efficiency and productivity. Two good things interns are good for… if they’re actually good at what they do. “Makes it easier.”
“Now, now, be nice to her. Don’t have to be nice to her, but be nice to her.” Presley puts the files away. With a smirk, she shows herself to my door. “I’ll be back in a bit. Get her here and captivated by the time I get back, and I’ll take care of those pesky meetings for the next two months.” Upping the ante, hm? “When we go down to Rio, we’re getting you an escort for every night of the week.”
“You wish.”
I wait for Presley to leave the office before picking up my phone. This bet is a joke, but she’s right – I do love a challenge.
Now where the hell is Alessa’s number? Did that dumbass put the file away, knowing I’d have to waste time looking for the number? Of course she did. Because Presley will do anything to win a bet.