Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
“Great. Is lunch with Carl still on?”
“Yes, at one. I’ve booked a table at the Golden Orchid restaurant.”
I nod. “You will be joining us, right?”
“If you need me?”
“Yes, I do. You’ll have to take some notes.”
“I’ll change the reservation.”
“My session is after lunch?”
“That’s right. Your presentation is at 2.30 p.m.”
“You brought the slides for it?”
“They’re in my suitcase.”
“Good.” I run my hand along the back of my neck. The airport is fully conditioned and I am already sweating. “What am I doing after that?”
“It’ll be 4.00 p.m. by then. I thought you might want some free time to rest, or do some sightseeing.”
I spear her with a disapproving look. “Mrs. Emerson, this isn’t a vacation. I didn’t get where I am in the world by taking it easy and walking around like a goddamn tourist. We’re here to work. See about scheduling something for tomorrow evening with the Norwegian delegation. I don’t want any down time while I’m out here. Might as well seize every opportunity we can.”
“I just thought—”
“Well, stop thinking. Let me do that. Your job is to keep my life running smoothly, so I can think. Speaking of which, go grab our bags. I need to make a call.”
She scampers off obediently, and for a second I stare at her ass, even though it is impossible to tell what it actually looks like under all the layers of clothes she wears. Today, she is wearing a pant suit. It’s a nice suit. Very professional. The problem is it’s at least two sizes too big for her. She practically swims inside the fabric. Like a kid wearing her mother’s clothes.
Her choice of clothing is quite incredible. Once she came to work in a grey suit that was so meritless and ugly I nearly said something, but I managed to hold back. Her fashion choices are none my business.
I chuck her out of my head and call head office in New York. There are a couple of deals being negotiated that need my input. I give the senior vice president his instructions, and hang up just as my PA rushes back, rolling both our bags on either side of her.
Her face is flushed with exertion and despite the thick lenses of her glasses, I see dark circles under her eyes. I guess it can’t have been much fun for her travelling in coach with screaming babies all around her and the air stewardess spilling fish sauce on her. I consider saying something nice, but I bite the comment back. Our relationship is perfect at the moment. Jade Emerson is without doubt one of the best PA’s I’ve ever had, and I’m damned if I’m going to ruin it.
We get out of the airport and the heat slams into me. It’s like being in a sauna. “Where’s the driver?” I ask her impatiently.
She looks around, concerned. “He should be here.”
“Well, I don’t see anyone with a placard with my name on it.”
“They use iPads for that now,” she murmurs.
“Whatever they use,” I say irritably.
She pulls her phone from her pocket. “Let me call and find out what’s going on.”
I cross my arms impatiently, as she begins speaking to someone on the other end of the line. “No, that’s not what I emailed,” she says calmly. “I’m sorry your driver wasted his time by coming here an hour ago, but if you take the time to check my email, you’ll see that I sent the correct instructions and the flight was neither delayed nor early.” She pauses. “How long will it take you to organize another car?” She listens then frowns. “No, we can’t wait here for an hour. I’ll find alternative arrangements. For the record, I’ll be expecting a refund of the payment I have already made.” The other person raises his voice and she listens to him ranting with pursed lips. Two months with her is enough to know that means she’s dealing with an asshole, but she’s just too professional to stoop to his level.
Anger rises up in me. I can be hard on her, but I won’t stand by and let someone treat her like shit. She doesn’t deserve that. “Is everything, alright?” I ask her.
“No, but I can handle it,” she says, holding the phone slightly away from her ear.
“I know you can handle it,” I say, meaning it. “It’s not you I’m referring to. It’s the asshole on the other end.” I extend my hand to her. “Give me the phone.”
I can tell from her slight hesitation that she doesn’t want to, but she knows better than to disobey a direct order from me. She passes the phone to me.
I put it to my ear.
By now, the man on the phone is not just yelling, he’s going ape-shit. His accent is thick, but I make out ‘stupid fucking bitch’ just fine.