Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 152(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 152(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
I do admit to myself that he checks off all my hotness boxes when it comes to looks. He walks by again. My eyes find his ass and then thighs. Oh, maybe it’s that. I once read a study that women are drawn to men with thick thighs. It’s science and not me at all.
My eyes snap up again when this time he stops across from my desk. His back is to me. He stands there for a moment before turning to go back to his office, leaving behind a vase on the table behind Cesar filled with beautiful chocolate brown flowers and pink roses.
Further confusing me. Which will only lead to one thing. I close my eyes. I will not obsess over this. But I think it’s far too late. That ship has sailed.
Chapter 9
Finn
It takes a few days to custom make a suit, but it takes even longer to custom make one in petal pink as the tailor called it. I use the time to observe Lucia, who apparently goes by the nickname Lucky to her friends. She has not extended this courtesy to me, and according to the handbook that Monica gave me, I’m not to refer to an employee by a nickname unless expressly requested by said employee and even then I should refuse. We’ve got a helluvalot of rules in this place.
During my quiet observation, I’ve discovered that Lucia likes chocolate and pink and glittery things from the pens I’ve seen on her desk after hours. She also has two more ugly suits in different shades of gray. I’ve decided I hate gray.
“We should get rid of all my gray suits, Timothy.”
“Of course.” He hands me the pink pants. Were they this pink in the tailor’s office? I feel like they weren’t. I step into them anyway and tuck in my white shirt.
Lucia also enjoys her co-workers, lunch with her co-workers, afternoon breaks on the roof terrace and, according to Monica, who spies for me in order to keep me from committing an expensive mistake, happy hour with others from O’Hare. They talked about me because Lucia had a lot of questions, Monica admitted, which initially gave me hope, but when I learned that the majority of the questioning was whether I had a bad temper, hidden agendas, or other unsavory habits, I felt that progress had not been made.
Timothy flips up my collar and drapes a cream, brown and pink striped tie around my neck.
“You’ve been awfully quiet, Timothy. Don’t you like my new suit?”
“It’s bright,” is his response.
“That bad?” I shrug into the suit jacket, which lies perfectly across my broad shoulders. If it wasn’t for the color, it’d be perfect. Lucia better like this.
“It’s very nice, sir,” Timothy lies. He tucks a dark brown patch of silk into my breast pocket and hands me my briefcase.
I’m a bit self-conscious when I step out of the car in front of my building. There’s an audible gasp from someone to my right. I keep my head forward and march into the building.
Monica is waiting for me when I get to my floor. Behind her are Lucia and Cesar, hovering like anxious birds.
“Did our Gateway deal fall through?”
“No sir, but you have gone viral.” Monica shoves a phone into my face. I cock my head to get a better glimpse.
In the short time it took for me to exit my car, wait for the elevator, and ride up the twenty-three floors to my office, a photo of me with the caption He’s so fine I want him to choke me with his pink-clad thunder thighs. Hit me daddy! has twenty-six thousand likes and counting.
“We as a society are running out of entertaining content,” I reply, handing the phone back to Monica and moving toward my office.
“You should read the comments,” she says as she runs after me. “There are so many women who want your number. Should I reply?”
There’s a choked sound but when I spin around everyone’s face is perfectly normal. Monica waits expectantly with her fingers hovering over her phone screen.
“No, you should not reply.” I can’t think of a worse thing.
“It’d be good for you. Take your mind off things here at the office.” Monica tries to blink in Lucia’s direction without Lucia taking notice.
“Not interested.”
The phone rings and saves me from being hounded by Monica.
“Lucky—I mean, Lucia,” I correct myself at Monica’s glare, “come in and take some dictation.”
“Sir?” Lucia says. We’ve never done dictation before because we aren’t in the sixties and I’m not Don Draper. I can actually type for myself, but, dammit, I want to look at Lucia’s legs.
“Dictation. My office. Now.” Why does everything in life have to be so fucking hard?
“Yessir.” She practically salutes me.
“Wait!” Monica yells. We all freeze. She holds up a finger as she finishes her conversation. Face flushed, she hangs up the phone and then claps her hands. “Variety wants to interview you about the viral moment! This is good press. Should I say yes?”