Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
She leaned in conspiratorially. “The other woman, I have no idea, but if she is with Mary Quinn Astrid, then it can’t be good. Oh shit, here they come. Good luck.” The intern gave me a sympathetic smile as she scurried away.
“Excuse me.” The older woman snapped her spindly French-manicured fingers in my face when I tried to get back to work.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Who are you?” she demanded. “Where is my son’s secretary, what’s her name?”
Since there wasn’t a doubt in my mind this woman knew Mr. Astrid’s long-time secretary, I determined that all the gossip and my first impressions were definitely accurate.
“Cynthia is on vacation,” I said. “I’m Eddie Carmichael, Mr. Astrid’s paralegal. Can I help you?”
“You are Eddie?” The younger woman looked at me. “Shouldn’t you be a man?”
“No?” I had no idea how to answer that.
“I thought his new assistant was a man. Why would you go by a man’s name?”
“My name is Edwina. I go by Eddie or Ms. Carmichael,” I clarified, but I wasn’t sure what they wanted me to do. A part of me wouldn’t have been surprised if she demanded I get a sex change operation at lunch.
“Any relation to the Newport Carmichaels?” the human doll asked.
“No, not that I am aware of. How can I help you?” I repeated.
“Then who are you? How did you get this job working for Harrison?” Mary Quinn Astrid demanded as she crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her golden-lined French manicure on her upper arm.
“Because Mr. Astrid demands the best, and he saw my work and believed that was me. So now I work for him. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
Why was I explaining myself to these women?
“Yes, inform my son that we are here, then get each of us a coffee, skim milk, and two stevia.” The older woman snapped her fingers again.
I wanted to tell her exactly where she could shove her coffee, but considering everything, I thought it was best not to insult my boss’s mother.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. Mr. Astrid asked not to be disturbed.”
“Excuse me?” the younger blonde said while literally looking down her perfectly proportioned, probably the product of plastic surgery, nose at me. “She did not ask if Mr. Astrid asked to be disturbed. She told you to get off your lazy ass and do your job.”
I wanted to tell her that she was not my boss, and I was not his secretary. But I had a feeling her entitlement wouldn’t allow her to hear anything she didn’t want to hear, and it would just be easier to let him know.
With a fake smile plastered on my face, I got up, walked to his door, and knocked.
“Enter.” He sounded annoyed.
I could relate. I straightened my spine and walked into his office. “I thought that note was clear, Eddie.”
“It was, sir. You asked that I not disturb you unless there was something impeding my work,” I said, closing the door behind me.
He looked up, his lips pressed together in a thin line. “What do you need, Eddie?”
Shaking off my reaction to him saying the word need as he gazed at me with those intense, sapphire blue eyes that screamed bend over and take it like a good girl, I concentrated on keeping my voice calm and controlled.
We had gotten through the entire morning like two strangers. There had been nothing but curt nods in greeting and the barest of communication regarding the work that needed to be done that day.
Everything between us was formal, professional and… cold.
He was simply justifying my supposition that he hadn’t truly been serious about wanting a girl like me. And while I justified his approach by affirming that to cross the line any further with him would be a disastrous career move, it still stung a bit to know that I was right.
Taking a deep breath, I said, “There are two women at my desk asking for you. They are rather insistent, making it impossible for me to work. I believe one of them is your mother.” I kept my tone as even and pleasant as possible. Just because the office gossip said they had issues didn’t mean I was going to get in the middle of anything.
“Tell them I will be out in a few moments. I have a call to make, and then I will handle them myself,” he said, rolling his eyes. He muttered something under his breath about changing his office location, but I didn’t stick around to listen. This was a classic definition of not my circus, not my monkeys.
“Yes, sir,” I replied and left his office, going back to my desk where the two women were standing, tapping their overpriced thousand-dollar designer shoes.
“He has a call to make and will be right with you.” I took my seat and went back to the files, trying to ignore the smell of Dior perfume and snobbery.