Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
I hate that I like it.
“Good morning,” he says. He starts to say something else, but decides against it.
“Can I get you a coffee?” I ask, trying to guess what it is he wants but doesn’t want to ask for.
He shakes his head. “I’m good. How long have you been in the office?”
I shrug. “An hour. There are a few things I wanted to get a head start on.”
He nods, like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever heard. He’s freaking me out a little. “I have a few tasks for you,” he says.
“Fire away,” I say and spin my chair around to properly face him. I’m ready to take notes and be the world’s most competent, manager-material assistant.
He looks at me like he’s about to speak, but again, doesn’t say anything. “Let me get settled and I’ll be back.”
I shrug and turn back to my spreadsheet. I figure I’ve got another hour before I need to switch to Hart Developments stuff unless someone calls or Leo decides to hand over whatever it is he wants me to do.
This morning’s spreadsheet details immediate cost savings I’d make at The Mayfair over the first three months of my tenure as manager. Next, I’ll work on revisions to the proposed management structure. At the moment, there are far too many layers of management. I’m pretty sure it’s because Louis, the current manager, wants to make sure that no problem the hotel is grappling with actually comes to his attention.
I want to make the department heads my direct reports, with the new title of deputy hotel managers. That way, whenever there’s an issue that crops up with a guest, any of the department heads can identify themselves as a deputy manager and resolve it. At the moment, we have four deputy managers and another six shift managers, and on top of that, the department heads. I’m not sure who does what, but we don’t need that many people shielding the hotel manager. The hotel manager needs to be on the floor.
Leo’s door swings open and he appears in the doorway. “Right,” he says. “I have an unusual job for you.”
I groan inwardly. I don’t like the sound of unusual. It also means I can’t work on my plan anymore. Instead, I’m going to be plugging women’s numbers into a spreadsheet or stopping by his apartment to ask the woman he left in his bed to vacate the premises. Not that he’s ever asked me to do anything that isn’t strictly within my job description, but I can’t shake the prior knowledge I brought into this job. I can’t imagine how many women Leo sleeps with each week. I was only at that party for ten minutes after we finished our conversation, and he’d already gotten a second phone number. I bet nothing much has changed in the last two years.
I plaster on a smile and glance up at him, waiting for him to tell me what this unusual job is.
“This awards ceremony at the end of the month. I need a date for that. For business reasons.”
“Right,” I say, my tone a little guarded. “And by date, you mean a woman to go with you?”
“Exactly. I need someone who’s attractive, single, lives in the city and…” He winces.
Please, god, don’t be about to say that she needs to sleep with you at the end of the night. I might just vomit.
“She needs to pretend to be engaged. To me.”
“What?” I ask, my filter momentarily failing.
“I need you to find me a fake fiancée for the awards ceremony. Oh, and they can’t work for Hart Developments.”
I wait for my brain to make sense of what he’s saying, and then when it does, for him to correct himself.
But he doesn’t correct himself. Not even a little bit.
He’s serious.
“Can I ask why you’ve tasked me with this? Have you slept with every woman in New York City, so now I’m trolling the other boroughs trying to find you dates?”
He pauses, which is when I realize I should have been using my inside voice.
“Sorry, I just—”
“No, it’s fine. I, I— This is a big night. I’m not looking for someone to… socialize with. I want someone who can play the part of my fiancée. Someone who can charm everyone, look beautiful, and believably be my fiancée. This is business.”
“Oh, you’re serious,” I say, and immediately put my fingers over my mouth so nothing else slips out. I need to shut the fuck up or I’m going to get myself fired.
“I’m always serious about business,” he says. “Please make sure your inquiries are discreet. Like I said, no one who works here, but maybe a friend. Or an acquaintance. Colleague from a previous job. Have a think.”
“You’re not looking for an… escort?” I ask him.
His eyes slice to mine and my stomach lifts like I’ve just tipped over the summit of the Cyclone on Coney Island.