Chapter 7 - Andrea
SEVEN
ANDREA
The subway rattled on the train tracks, dragging me closer to a new era I wasn’t ready to start.
A five a.m. start time was unheard of at Sweet Seasons; our cafes didn’t even open that early.
Hell, I couldn’t remember the last time I woke up before six-thirty.
Over the weekend, I’d called every connection I’d ever made in this city—favorite customers, terrible-but-wealthy customers, and even some of Mr. Lewis’s friends I’d met—just to see if they had any open positions.
The only thing worthy of considering was a job as a weekend handling associate. Until they revealed the “handling” involved dead bodies at the county morgue.
I even called my former barista manager, but she refused to help me at all. She didn’t want to risk me “coming back and making the employees love [me] more.”
When the doors flung open at my stop, I didn’t move to get out. Instead, I stared at my phone and considered the other possibilities I could pursue.
Maybe I could float for a couple weeks.
I could get inspired and write a spicy romance novella that sells enough to cover a bill, charge to complete advanced calculus work for college students, or even—
Subject: Payment Past Due. Please Pay ASAP.
The email alert killed all my thoughts at once and forced me to exit the train.
Hopes and dreams were for rich people.
I rushed up the steps, emerging into a subdued Times Square.
The only signs of excitement were the flashing billboards and a man dancing in the street.
I soaked in the sights with every step, wanting to remember every scene at this point in my life before Harrison Cross became a major character.
As I rounded the corner by our building, I noticed several employees lining the steps. There were also suited men with flashlights at every door.
What the hell is going on?
Taking my place in line, I craned my neck every few seconds to see, but the view was blocked.
Over the wind, I caught fragments—“First and last name, please,” and “You need to report to this location today.” For some reason, an employee would rush back down the steps in tears every few minutes.
When it was my turn, the guard just stared at me.
“First name, Andrea,” I said, following what I’d heard. “Last name, Stone.”
Silence.
“Hello?” I waved a hand.
“Right, sorry.” He tapped his tablet. “Andrea Stone, you need to clock in directly with Mr. Cross on the top floor. He’s expecting you. Next.”
“Wait,” I said. “Is this check-in going to be an every-morning thing, or is this just for today?”
He gave me a blank stare.
“I’m asking because if it is, don’t you think you should warn people so they can get here even earlier?”
“Next!”
I rolled my eyes and walked into the lobby.
“Good morning, Miss Stone!” A woman I’d never seen before smiled at me from the water fountain. “Today is a sweet day to sip the seasons, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, sure…” I moved past her and to the elevators.
Someone slammed a fist over the panel before I could press the up button, and I gasped. Then I looked to my left.
“Oh…hey there, Riley.” I smiled at him. “You have to check in upstairs, too?”
“No.” He glared at me. “I’m apparently being demoted to the intern level. My entire team, actually.”
“I am so sorry…”
“I’m sure you are.” He grabbed my arm. “Why didn’t you tell us about this?”
“Because I didn’t know.”
“Mr. Lewis must’ve told you something,” he said. “He told you everything.”
“He didn’t tell me shit.” I snatched my arm away. “I found out on Friday, just like everyone else, and if you don’t believe that I would’ve warned everyone, screw you. You should know better.”
“Okay, now I’m sorry.” He stepped back, rubbing his face. “I just…I can’t afford to lose anything, and…”
“Me either,” I said. “I get it.”
He hit the up button before walking away, and I looked at my watch.
4:58.
Shit.
Thankfully, the doors opened within seconds and I stepped inside—punching the top-floor button.
I couldn’t help but notice that it’d been changed from the plain white style from before. Now, it was gold with the words “THE BOSS” etched in black.
As the car carried me up, I squinted to read the fine print etched on the plate underneath it.
Do not come here unless summoned by Mr. Cross.
Wasting his time is a crime.
“So, this is how the fuckery begins.” I rolled my eyes and sighed.
Bing!
I stepped off and found myself in a world of opulence.
The walls were painted in a luxe beige, and the floor had been removed and replaced with sleek gray marble.
A new receptionist desk stood guard down the hall. Beyond it, water flowed down a glass wall in a smooth, silvery curtain, the name CROSS glowing beneath the falling stream.
There weren’t any remnants of Mr. Lewis’s time here at all, and there was a part of me that didn’t hate that.
He was still a coward.
Since the main office door was open, I knocked against the panel.
No response.
“Hello?” I stepped inside, stopping when I saw Mr. Cross leaning against his desk.
“Good morning, Miss Stone.” His eyes met mine. “Are you aware that it’s 5:01 a.m. and you’re late?”
“No, I swear…” I glanced at my watch. Then I checked my phone screen to be sure. “It’s just now five o’clock.”
Strolling toward me, he gently lifted my wrist. His fingers were warm—steady—and far too comfortable against my pulse.
“Allow me to reset this—along with your phone—so we’re on the same page from here on out.”
He unclasped the watch and took my phone.
“Have a seat, please.”
He moved to his chair and stared at me for several seconds without saying a word.
Still keeping his eyes on mine, he adjusted my watch and slid it back to me.
“I was looking through the employee records, and I noticed you didn’t have a job title,” he said, adjusting my phone. “What exactly did Mr. Lewis consider you to be?”
“He would say—” I paused. “I was about to be an executive, one step below the CFO, actually.”
“Without finishing your master’s degree?” He looked right through me. “Or passing the CPA exam?”
“Yes…”
“Nice try.” He smirked. “I’ll give you one more chance to tell me the truth, Miss Stone. I would hate to fire you for dishonesty on your first day under me.”
“I didn’t have an official title.” I held back a sigh. “I just kept his days organized, attended meetings, and ran communication between him and all the staff.”
“Hmmm.” He tapped his chin. “So, like an intern?”
“No.” I bristled at that comparison. “I did a lot more than all the interns combined. No offense to them.”
He looked as if he expected me to elaborate.
“I helped with a lot of finance things.” I was suddenly nervous. “I also helped design policies for our cafes and had inside experience to share.”
“Ah, yes.” He flipped open a folder. “You were a lead barista before.”
“I’m going to un-ban you from our Times Square location the second I get off today.”
“I’ve already handled that.” He looked amused. “That said, given all that you’ve told me and all the times Mr. Lewis raved about you, I think I’ll consider you as an executive after all.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” He smiled. “An executive assistant—to me.”
I bit my tongue.
“I have to warn you, though,” he said. “I have a far bigger imprint than Mr. Lewis, so if you can’t handle my depth, I suggest you leave before I go any deeper.”
“I think I can handle you.”
“I hope so…” His gaze dipped—slow, deliberate—like he was assessing whether that was a challenge.
He opened a drawer, pulling out a laptop and three huge binders. “The password for this is on the back, and my contacts are in the first one, so save all the numbers to your company cell, not your personal one.”
“I don’t have a company cell,” I said. “I typically just use mine for everything.”
“That won’t work under me, Miss Stone.” He picked up his desk’s receiver. “Ciara, call Rob and tell him to get me a new cell phone for my new EA.”
He hung up and continued talking without missing a beat.
“You’ll need to keep me up to speed on the major things in the second binder while handling my schedule on a daily basis, commit to my policy on time, and deliver consistent research on our number one competition.”
I nodded, leaning forward to grab the binders.
“Do you know who our number one competition is, Miss Stone?”
“Well, no other cafe brand makes coffee the way we do, so…” I stalled as his jaw clenched. “Seattle’s Best? Dunkin’ Donuts?”
“Starbucks.” His voice was terse. “It’s them versus us, until they no longer exist or until they only have ten stores in the entire country left.”
You might’ve bought the wrong coffee company for that…
“I’ll give you a couple days to acquaint yourself with my schedule, but you’ll shadow me for the first month,” he said. “You have until the end of this week to memorize binder two. Binder three is due next week.”
A woman rushed in and set a brand-new phone in my lap before disappearing.
“Do you have any questions before our meeting is over, Miss Stone?”
“Yes.”
“Now would be a good time to ask it.”
“Why don’t you already have an executive assistant?”
“I did have one.” He leaned forward. “He’s currently suing me.”
“Oh…”
“Four of the ones I had before that are suing me as well, so before you get any ideas, I have the best lawyers in the world, and your case will go nowhere if you try it,” he said. “Clear?”
“Crystal clear.”
“Good.”
Out of the corner of my eye, a different woman—one I slightly recognized—moved in front of me with a black designer briefcase. She lifted the laptop and binders from my lap, buckling the things inside.
“Heather, this is Miss Andrea Stone,” he said. “Miss Stone, this is Heather. I’ve just promoted her from the sixth floor since Mr. Lewis’s receptionist decided not to come in on a vacation day. Whatever that is.”
Heather and I exchanged confused glances before she rushed away.
“Now…” He stood and moved in front of me—close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “Is there anything else we need to discuss?”
“Not at this time, Mr. Cross.”
“You’re supposed to ask me about my time policy.” He picked up a stone hourglass from the edge of his desk. “It’s not in the binders.”
“Okay.” I swallowed. “What’s your time policy?”
“It’s very simple.” He tilted it upside down, letting the sand fall slow and steady. “When you’re on the clock, your time belongs to me. There’s always something to do, so I won’t appreciate you wasting it on things like gossiping or lunch breaks.”
“I don’t get lunch breaks anymore?”
“No one does,” he said. “They’re unnecessary. You can eat while you work.”
I blinked.
“All your time is mine,” he said. “End of story.”
His phone sounded, and he pulled it out of his pocket.
“You can leave now,” he said. “Come back at eleven o’clock to shadow a sales pitch meeting. Exactly eleven o’clock, or else.”
“Will do, sir.” I stood up and rushed out of the room before he could say anything else.
I carried the briefcase two floors down to my cubicle and vowed to get through at least ten pages of each binder.
Upon opening it, my stomach sank, and my brain begged me to walk out of this building and never come back.
Before you start this job, please note that you are 100% replaceable.
Say this three times daily so you’ll never be tempted to give your opinion.
You are an employee.
You must work.
You must do work to my satisfaction.
Ugh.
I shut it and immediately texted my old manager.
PLEASE just let me work three weeks at the counter. That’s all I’m asking for.