Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
She clutches her stomach. “Oh God, I’ve got to go. Let them know you’ll pick them up at their hotel in an hour or two. Is your car clean? Take a cab if it’s not.” She groans. “I really have to go. You close this deal, and I’ll make you a Junior Publicist.”
Wow. Okay. That’s an offer I can’t turn down.
“I will close the deal,” I promise, even though I have maybe twenty percent confidence in my ability to do so. I mean, she didn’t even invite me in the conference room with them today, and I’m the one who put the presentation together.
This could be my chance to prove myself. Finally become a publicist instead of the damn assistant.
I square my shoulders and march into the conference room. “Hey, guys.”
“The assistant!” One of them calls out like he’s excited to see me. “What are we still doing here, Assistant? I thought you were taking us out.”
“Ooh, she’s our date for the night? Not bad. Better than Pant-suit.” He jerks his thumb toward the door. I don’t think Janette would mind the moniker.
Doggy-farts. I definitely need a date tonight.
I try not to think of that crumpled note in my purse. I have absolutely no plans to call Nikolai. Ever. I mean, never, ever.
“Janette said you’d take us wherever we want to go on the company dime, so I’m thinking we want the most expensive sushi restaurant in the city. Can you hook us up, Assistant?”
“Um…” My mind races, not just trying to figure out which restaurant to take them to but also reeling from the complete understanding of how ill-equipped I am to handle these guys.
They are definitely rowdy. Totally disrespectful.
I can see why Janette thought I needed a chaperone. But I can’t go full-bitch mode—my usual go-to when my back is up against a wall—because I’m supposed to close this deal.
I draw myself up. “My name is Chelle, call me Chelle,” I say firmly. “What are your names?”
“Tiny,” the short one says, holding up his hand.
“Randy,” another one says, making the word sound suggestive.
“Is that your name or an adjective?”
He grins because I got his joke. “Both.”
“Great. And you?” I raise my brows at the third guy.
“Bones,” he answers.
“Bones.” I bite back any commentary I might have on their names.
“Okay, Tiny, Randy, and Bones. I can definitely take you for good sushi, but Janette had reservations at an upscale Mexican restaurant. It’s very popular—”
“Nope,” Bones interrupts. “We want sushi.”
“Expensive sushi,” Tiny chimes in.
I manage not to roll my eyes. “Okay, I’ll see if I can get us a reservation. You guys can head back to your hotel to get ready for dinner, and I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“I don’t need to get ready,” Randy says.
“We don’t have to dress up or anything, do we?” Tiny complains.
“I need to get ready,” I say firmly. “Give me your cell, and I’ll call you when I get to your hotel.”
Randy gives me his number, and I manage to get the guys out, then collapse into my desk chair and groan. I try to get reservations at the three best sushi restaurants and strike out with all three. It’s a Friday night. Not even throwing around our firm’s name does any good.
Crap on a cracker. I don’t have a date or a place to go.
I draw a measured breath and pull the crumpled note from Nikolai from my purse. It’s a bad idea. The worst, really.
Things could go very wrong, and these are potential clients I need to convince to sign with us. But I’m really not sure I can handle them on my own.
I flatten the note on my desk and pick up my phone. Here goes the worst plan ever.
I dial Nikolai’s number. He picks up on the second ring.
“I did not expect you to call.”
“Um, I didn’t expect me to call either. I’m not calling for—um. Yeah. I’m not calling for that. What we did last night. I need a huge, huge favor.”
“You’re calling me for a favor?” He sounds surprised. I knew this was a bad idea. “I believe you already owe me one for giving you that ring back.”
“I know. I totally know. I just… ack.”
“What is it?” His voice sharpens a little like he thinks I’m in danger or something.
“My boss got sick, and I’m supposed to take these guys out tonight and show them a good time and convince them to sign with us, but they’re a little rowdy, and I sort of need a fake boyfriend again.”
“How many rowdy guys?”
“Three. They’re skateboarders. And they want the best sushi in town, but I don’t have a reservation anywhere, so I have to figure something out.”
“Okay. I’ll be your bodyguard. What time?”
Unexpected relief sweeps through me. “You’ll do it?”
“What time, Chelle?”
“I’m supposed to pick them up by seven at the Hotel Grand. I have to—”