Chapter 20 （B） – Andrea
TWENTY (B)
ANDREA
“Welcome back, Miss Stone.” The doorman greeted me once I stepped out of the town car that evening. “Mr. Cross is expecting you.”
“I’m sadly aware.” I feigned a smile as he led me to the elevator and pressed the button for me.
Looking up at the numbers, I silently warned myself not to let him touch me, not to give in no matter how good his mouth felt against mine.
Or how damn good his fingers felt deep inside me…
Everly
FYI: I placed some pepper spray in your bag when I dropped by your job today. Use it if necessary
The pink lipstick tube you gave me?
Yup. He’ll never see it coming…
I held back a laugh as I arrived at his level. Stepping off, I took a deep breath before knocking on his door.
No answer.
I knocked again.
Nothing.
I started to scroll down to his name, but his door swung open, and I did a slow double take.
I’d never seen this man in anything except businesswear, and the sight of him in a white V-neck shirt that clung to his abs and light-gray sweatpants was short-circuiting my brain.
“Good evening, Miss Stone,” he said.
“Mr. Cross.”
“Is there a reason you’ve shown up wearing ripped jeans and a T-shirt?” he asked. “I told you this meeting was professional.”
“Then have you looked in the mirror to see what you’re wearing?”
“Fair enough…”
He lifted a wine glass to his lips and took me in for a few seconds before stepping back to let me inside.
“Follow me,” he said, walking me past rooms I’d explored before. He stopped in front of one I’d missed.
It was a windowless office with huge screens that flashed photos of buildings and businesses he’d taken over. On one of them, images of him, Aaron, Ciara, and that other guy slid by one by one.
“Have a seat,” he said, and I obliged.
He refilled his glass from a waiting wine bottle and looked at me.
“Would you like something to drink before we start?”
“Just water,” I said. “I don’t think I should drink alcohol around you.”
His lips curved into a smile and he slipped out of the room, returning with a glass carafe and a glass.
“Here you are,” he said, setting it in front of me.
He settled into his chair, watching me take slow sips—not saying a word.
“You have a really nice condo,” I said, attempting to break the ice. “It looks like it was plucked straight from a magazine.”
“The editors from Architectural Digest would be thrilled to know that.”
“Can I ask you something personal?”
“No.”
“I’m going to state my question anyway.”
“I’m expecting it.”
“Why don’t you ever make time in your calendar for friends and family?”
He arched a brow.
“Your life can’t possibly be all work… You do have friends and family, right?” I asked.
“What I have are boundaries, Miss Stone. I don’t talk about those things for a reason, and that won’t be changing anytime soon.”
Of course…
He stared at me again—making my body react against its will, and I was tempted to ask if he could write the reasons why I needed to be here since he wasn’t going to say them.
“I think you and I can skip the entire ‘What do you do here?’ conversation,” he finally spoke. “We can just jump straight to your current pay grade, if you’ll be okay with that.”
As if I have a choice. “That’s fine.”
“Good.” He opened a folder. “I’m assuming that your current listed salary is a typo, so…”
He tore out a sheet and slid it toward me with a pen. “Cross it out, correct it, and then we’ll start negotiations from there.”
I picked up the sheet, and my hand tightened around the pen as the number stared at me.
69,998.00
“It’s not a typo,” I said. “This is correct.”
He blinked. “Correct, as in what you make per year, or per quarter?”
“Funny.” I returned the sheet. “Per year. I was supposed to get a twenty-five percent raise right before you—uh—well, you know.”
He sighed and took a long sip of wine.
“Were there any salary escalator clauses in your contract?” he asked.
“No.” I shook my head. “But I did get three and five thousand a few times a year, so it pushes my salary about ten to twelve thousand higher here and there.”
“Okay, Miss Stone.” He shut the folder. “That’s the end of your salary negotiation session.”
“How? You didn’t make a counter-offer or say anything.”
“I don’t need to,” he said. “Your current salary tells me everything I need to know.”
“I’m afraid I’m not following.”
“I’m going to handle your new salary on my own,” he said. “I’ll send you an offer letter after I think on the numbers for a while.”
“I can’t afford to make any less,” I said. “So, if you’re thinking about making it lower, tell me now so I can quit.”
“I’ll tell you when I send the offer letter,” he said, finishing off his wine. “In the meantime, I’m changing course on our missing money operation, so I’ll be adjusting your job title soon as well.”
“I see.” I crossed my arms. “So, this meeting was pointless.”
“Not at all.” He smirked. “We got to see each other outside the office. In different attire. That’s not pointless at all.”
“You’re delusional if you think I’m attracted to you.”
“I know you are.” He stood up. “I knew that from day one, if you recall.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Okay, Miss Stone.”
“I’m serious.”
“I said okay.” He walked ahead, ushering me to follow him back to the front door, but then he stopped and turned around.
“Why haven’t you taken the CPA exam?” He caught me off guard with his question.
“I…” I stalled. “I haven’t had enough time to study for it.”
“I don’t believe that,” he said. “You could’ve taken it years ago.”
“I wasn’t ready.”
“I don’t believe that either, but I’ll let it slide for the answer to something else.” He looked into my eyes. “You’re only nine credits short of your master’s, and I doubt the remaining business structure and tax code classes are that difficult, so—explain why you’re putting that off.”
I swallowed, stunned that he knew all this.
I was ready to give him the same excuses I gave to Everly and Lisa every time it crossed their minds: “The hardest classes are last and they each require fifty-page papers. I only have five done.”
“Miss Stone?” He stepped closer. “Why?”
“The answer to that is a boundary for me,” I said. “Surely you can understand that.”
A faint smile crossed his lips, but it faded seconds later.
“I haven’t been on speaking terms with my father since I was twenty-five years old—when I found out he took out hundreds of credit cards and bank loans in my name,” he lowered his ‘boundary’ from earlier.
“But I do see my mother whenever she comes to town and we talk twice a week. That’s my only family, and friend-wise I have Aaron and Ciara.
It just so happens that they work for me, and we’re all workaholics. ”
“I can’t afford to finish my master’s because the loan repayments will start six months after I graduate, and I don’t make enough to cover them.
” I finally said the truth aloud. “I’m paying my sister’s way through nursing school, and if she wants to take another year to complete a specialty program—it has to wait until then. ”
“And the CPA exam?”
“What’s the point in taking it without a master’s degree?”
“Hmmm,” he said. “Thank you for answering.”
“Same to you.”
He walked me to the elevator and boarded with me.
He eyed me as we descended, and I waited for him to make a move—because I definitely wanted him to—but the doors opened without so much as a spoken word.
He led me outside and opened the back door to the waiting town car.
“Just so you know, Miss Stone,” he said as I buckled my seatbelt, “I’m about to send out a memo, and work will start at 3 a.m. starting tomorrow.”
“What?”
“Are you asking because you want me to repeat it, or because you don’t understand?”
“Both.”
“You’ll need to come to headquarters at 3 a.m. tomorrow until further notice,” he said. “I did mention that I was going in a new direction earlier this evening, correct?”
“That’s not what I thought you meant.”
“I’ll see you in a few hours. Oh, and—” He looked me over once again. “Thank you.”
He slammed the door shut, and I immediately regretted telling him anything about my life.
I’m officially done with this man’s bullshit…