Sneak Peek - My Silver Fox CEO
Destiny
The moment a shiny and pink hair clip is added to the colorful bunch in my already complicated hairstyle, I immediately start shaking my head no.
“Too much?” Nicole winces as she meets my disgruntled expression in the mirror.
I bite my bright pink lips hesitantly, struggling between hurting my best friend’s feelings and showing up on my first day at work looking like a glittery barbie doll.
“Um, not that I don’t like it, Nikki, but…”
A loud snicker fills the room, interrupting my sensitive rejection of what Nicole calls her “amazing styling skills.” Nicole and I turn toward the sound to find Gigi on the bed, staring at us with blatant amusement all over her face.
“She looks like a fucking clown, Nikki,” Gigi deadpans.
“Shut up, Gigi.” Nicole sticks her tongue out childishly at her while I try to remove the numerous pins in my hair. “I want to make you look good for your first day.” Nicole turns to me with a pout.
“I know, and I appreciate that, but this isn’t me.” I heave a sigh of relief when I finally get all the pins out, and my long brown hair falls effortlessly to my waist. I pull my hair up and secure it with the hairband around my wrist. “This has to go too, sorry.” I pick up a wipe from the vanity and clean the shiny gloss on my lips.
When I stare into the mirror this time, there’s satisfaction in my glasses-encased large brown eyes. A small smile touches my lips as I turn to both my friends, who are shaking their heads at me in a manner that indicates how hopeless they think I am when it comes to anything remotely related to fashion.
Nicole stretches out her fist and opens it to reveal a pair of contacts. “At least, take this.”
“Contacts make my eyes itch, Nicole, you know that.”
“Uh-oh, you’ve made her mad,” Gigi exclaims, and she’s not wrong. I only call Nicole by her full name when I’m angry at her.
“You too,” I point at Gigi.
Taken aback, her voice rises a few octaves. “Me! What did I do?”
I normally don’t do well with confrontations, but I’m too nervous at the moment and need the support of my best friends in matters more important than my choice of clothes and hairstyle. “Nothing and that’s the problem. The one time you draw your attention away from your phone is to laugh at me.”
“Oh, I wasn’t laughing at you, honey. I was laughing at Nicole’s poor attempt at styling.”
“Hey,” Nicole jumps in. “There’s nothing poor about my styling. You’re only jealous because she wanted my help instead of yours.”
“Jealous? Oh please, just because you can pull off a ridiculous amount of pink doesn’t mean everyone else can…”
“Guys!” I yell into the room, ending their bickering abruptly. With how often they go at it, a stranger would think these two hate each other. But nothing could be farther from the truth. Nicole and Gigi share too many different opinions on many things, and unlike me, they’re not afraid to voice them out.
The two jump slightly at my loud objection, and Gigi scoots to the edge of the bed and pats the space beside her. As soon as I sat down, Nicole followed beside me. “Now, tell us what’s bugging you, honey,” Gigi encourages. Like it or not, she always has a way of getting me to tell her even my deepest, darkest secrets.
Sighing, my erect sitting position immediately turns into a crumpled one. “I’m just nervous about the whole thing. What if they don’t like me, or worse, they don’t think I’m not qualified because Nicole got me the spot?”
The thought of this kept me up all through the night, but I didn’t tell them that because I didn’t want to sound ungrateful. Nicole had gotten me a spot as an intern in one of the most prestigious auditing firms in New York in the most unconventional way. And I loved her for presenting me with this golden opportunity.
A month ago, Moore Consults had organized their annual dinner at NYU, where I’m currently studying to get my Master’s degree in Economics. It’s an event they organize every year to recruit the best minds for the highly coveted internship position. Every Economics student would kill to get it. Unfortunately, both my body and mind had failed me, and I had been too sick to go.
Everyone else had socialized, rubbed noses with the top decision-makers in the company, and gotten a spot for the interview. I had been too devastated to hide it from my best friends, and as soon as Nicole realized it was something within her reach, she went straight into action.
Something to note about Nicole and Gigi is that they are both wealthy heiresses. Their families are part of the one percent of the one percent in the whole United States.
Gigi’s family is what society refers to as “old money.” The Astleys have their hands in every industry you can think of, and just by the mention of her family name, Gigi can get into whatever she wants. They’re even rumored to be of royal descent.
On the other hand, Nicole”s family possesses immeasurable wealth that stems from several businesses passed down from generation to generation. Eventually, their wealth became so vast that you didn’t even know where it began and ended. One of those businesses is Moore Consults, owned and spearheaded by Nicole’s father, Greyson Moore.
Although I’ve never met him, Mr. Moore is a highly formidable and respected man in the financial and economics industry. Nicole also dotes on her father so much that hardly a day goes by when she doesn’t talk to or about him.
So she called him and demanded that he grant her best friend a chance to interview for the role. Nicole has always said her father never refuses her anything. That turned out to be true because that same evening, I received an email inviting me to an interview at the company.
“Destiny Rose Bryant, we’ve talked about this,” Nicole states as she holds my gaze. “I might have gotten you that spot, but no one deserved it more than you do. You graduated top of our class at Boston College, and I watched you bust your ass for it while working two jobs at the same time.”
“You don’t understand…” I start to say. People like Nicole and Gigi can easily make things happen for them, but can people like me? We must work twice as hard before society accepts that we have earned something.
Nicole places a hand on my shoulder. “I know that you aced that interview, Des, and all the other assessments that followed. You ranked number one, so don’t you feel for one second that you didn’t earn it.”
“Nikki is right,” Gigi says, and I turn to her. “You are a badass, so quit letting the voices in your head convince you otherwise. You are far too smart for that.” Her words immediately put a smile on my face, which she returns. “Besides, we made a pact before coming to New York, didn’t we?”
Full-on grinning now, I nod in agreement. “Yes. We are pursuing our dreams and not letting anything get in our way.”
“Dictating parents be damned,” Gigi smirks.
“Hell, yes!” Nicole screams while punching her hand in the air.
Suddenly feeling emotional, I wrap my arms around them and draw them closer. “I love you guys.” Although our worlds are far apart, meeting these two back in college, looking bored as ever while I grinned from ear to ear, is the best thing ever happening to me.
“We love you too,” they both echo, and we hug until Nicole pulls away with wide eyes. “Now, go quickly before you’re late.”
Gigi raises a brow. “Since when do you care about arriving at places early?” she questions, and I smother a snort behind my palm. Nicole is never early to go anywhere; she calls it “being fashionably late.”
She playfully scowls at us. “I might be flexible, but my father absolutely hates tardiness.”
Oh no! I jump to my feet quickly and grab my bag even though I still have plenty of time to spare. I don’t want to take any chances.
“I doubt Mr. Moore is going to be in charge of interns,” Gigi ponders. “Then again, he might want to address you guys on your first day.”
Meanwhile, I’m already at the door as she finishes her statement, waving and yelling at them goodbye.
The train ride to Moore Consults is smooth and fast. Although I’m sure the other passengers probably think I have a weird condition, with the way every part of my body kept shaking all through.
Soon enough, I’m standing in front of a magnificently large and intimidating building like almost every other architecture in New York. Encased solely in glass, the firm gives me a clear view of the people doing business in it. Written clearly atop the rotating door of the thirty-two-floor building are the words MOORE CONSULTS.
I place a hand on my chest to soothe my pounding heart and exhale slowly before braving and walking into the door. With each step I take toward the smiling receptionist, I feel like I deserve to be here, like I belong.
It seems like my nerves are still all over the place because instead of taking the elevator the kind receptionist directed me to, I took the one beside it. When she realizes my mistake, it’s too late as the elevator door closes to her frantic shouts.
Weirdly enough, I remain the only one in the elevator. Is it under construction? Is that what the receptionist was warning me about? Oh God, am I going to be stuck in here?
My palms get sweaty, and I tug at the crisp white shirt beneath my navy-blue suit as I suddenly start to feel claustrophobic. Just as I start to gasp for breath, the door slides open to reveal what I can only describe as perfection.
Clad in a black, well-tailored suit and a black shirt with the two top buttons undone, the man before me looks wealthy and carries himself with dignity. Slowly, I let my gaze wander his chiseled features - high cheekbones and a classic aquiline nose set perfectly above his wide mouth.
Peeking beneath his shirt is bronzed skin, which seems insanely smooth. Judging by how his suit clings to his huge physique, he is clearly quite muscular beneath all that clothing. I’m suddenly overpowered by the urge to run my fingers along his body, feel the hard ripples of his muscles, and watch him react to my touch.
Shaking off my indecent thoughts, I let my gaze roam to his gray hair, which is messy and nicely clashes with his allure. His long, thick lashes and dark stubble splayed across his strong jaw mesmerized me.
With his imposing poise, it’s hard not to notice his impressive height as he stands roughly six feet and four inches. However, it’s his eyes that grab my attention the most. Deep, dark eyes that hold me spellbound turn me thoughtless and speechless.
Those eyes never let me go, even as he steps into the space, hands firmly placed in his pockets, which suddenly become too tiny with his presence.
Unable to help myself, I whisper loud enough for him to hear. “Perfection.”
A second pass with us just holding each other’s gazes with an intensity that makes me shiver. “Yes,” he says.
And I have a feeling he’s not agreeing with me. Rather, he merely sees what I see in him and me.