Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Is it as simple as that? I never graduated college, never lived in an apartment for longer than eighteen months—maybe even a year. Beck isn’t like me. I’m hardwired to move on. “Maybe.”
“But you like Kate?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “Working together makes it complicated. There’s the entire abuse of power thing, so…”
“Yeah. It makes it more complicated. But you’re not going to be her direct boss forever. And she’s an adult. She’s over twenty-five and her prefrontal cortex is fully developed.”
I chuckle. “Yup. All that is true.” Beck is right. There’s an energy between us I’ve never had with anyone at the office. Maybe that’s because I haven’t slept with anyone I’ve worked with before. Or maybe Kate is different. Maybe I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone before.
“But one thing I’d say,” Beck says. “Don’t waste an opportunity because you’re afraid.”
“Afraid?”
“It’s easy to become excellent at the things we’re already good at. You got good at making money early, right? You earned millions before you finished university. And you became excellent at it. And you’re excellent at spotting investment opportunities.” He shrugs. “You get what I’m saying. I’m sure you can pick up women, no problem. But maybe you could be good at other stuff, stuff you’re not good at yet, if you practiced.”
“You mean like surfing?” I ask.
He laughs. “Maybe surfing. Maybe taking a woman out to dinner and talking to her about stuff and not just flirting long enough to get her in bed. Maybe exploring a connection that clearly pushes you out of your comfort zone.” He pauses, giving me time to make sense of what he’s saying. I guess the look on my face reveals his advice isn’t exactly landing. “Ask her out to dinner, mate. That’s all I’m saying.”
TWENTY
Vincent
Dinner. Dinner. Dinner. It’s all I can think about since talking to Beck last night. He made it sound like I could just ask Kate out, that she’d say yes and that it would be no big deal. If that were true, why wasn’t I able to find a single moment to actually ask her today?
I’m a pussy. That’s the reason.
I glance at my watch and realize she’s probably left for the day. With that in mind, I pick up my laptop and head back to the office from the boardroom. Michael always has the most up-to-date version of the project plan pinned to the wall in there, and I liked to check over it in hard copy every now and then to make sure nothing has fallen through the cracks.
I open the door, slide my laptop on my desk and nearly jump ten feet in the air when Kate says, “Hey.”
I snap my head around. She’s at her desk.
“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” I say. The black frames suit her, emphasizing her small nose and high cheekbones.
“They’re new,” she says. “I’m not used to staring at screens so much. I guess it took its toll quickly.”
This is my opportunity. We’re technically off the clock, so I’m not actually her boss at this moment in time. I can ask her now. “You’re not working in the pub tonight?”
She shakes her head. “Tomorrow night. Tonight I’m trying to solve a problem here.”
I take the couple of steps to her desk. “Anything I can help with?”
“I’ll come to you when I’m ready for you to make the decision.”
I sit down on the corner of her desk. “Ask me now.”
She pauses what she’s doing and takes her glasses off. “Okay.” There’s an edge to her voice like she’s expecting a fight. Maybe she’ll get one. I probably should hold off the dinner invitation until we’re on neutral territory, or at least until we’re not in the office. I could go into the pub tomorrow night when I know she’s working.
“It’s about the moldings in the ballroom.” She seems reluctant to continue.
“Okay.”
“You know if I don’t get the answer I want, I’m going to hound you until I get my way.” Her expression is blank. She’s not joking.
“I do know that,” I reply, wearing the same serious expression.
“Stella wants to completely replace the moldings in the ballroom. There was a flood in there and it’s quite damaged, particularly in the northwest corner. I think we should have a bespoke mold made of the surrounding moldings and only replace the sections we need to replace.”
“Presumably the sticking point is cost.”
“And time,” she says. “I think we can jiggle the timetable to accommodate things. But it is more expensive. And the moldings won’t look as crisp as they would do if they were all new.”
“But you want to preserve what’s there.”
She nods. “The history.”
“I agree,” I say, and stand.
“You agree?” She sounds shocked, but she shouldn’t be. I almost always agree with her. Sometimes it just takes me a while.