“Do it for you, Mase, not for me.” She sighs into my chest.
I am.
SIXTEEN
Mase
George, my new receptionist.
I’m unsure as to whether Sal is screwing with me with this one. When I arrived this morning to find him eagerly waiting at the doors of my office, I had to do a double take. Wearing his suit and bow tie, and shoes shinier than his forehead—which shines bright in its own right—the man was glowing.
He managed to talk my ear off for the first half an hour, telling me about his mother who lives in Canterbury and his granny in the south.
“Mr Lowell, your coffee,” he says, placing a mug on my desk. “I familiarised myself with your system, but I think we should change it. Your clients aren’t even logged in alphabetical order. It’s…” He makes a face. “Truly offensive.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I lean back in my chair, a headache already forming. “Do whatever you need to do, okay? Follow me.” I stand, walking around the desk and out to reception.
“This here is a button you can press to feed me all important information. I prefer my employees to use it to avoid unnecessary interruptions.” I nod, hoping it reaffirms my point.
“I find that very impersonal, Mr Lowell.”
“Yes, exactly.” I pat his back, leaving him at the desk as I return to my office.
The intercom buzzes not thirty seconds later. “I think we are going to get along famously, Mr Lowell.”
I shake my head, a small smile tugging at my lip.
“Ahh, you fucker,” Lance shouts, chucking his cards at Elliot.
“Can you pricks go do that somewhere else? I’m trying to work here.”
“Don’t give us that bull, you were looking at hotels in Moscow just now.” Charlie smiles, calling me out.
The boys got here an hour ago, and the three of them are now sitting around my office sofas playing poker on the coffee table.
“I’m trying to find somewhere to take Nina to watch the ballet,” I mutter, squinting at the screen.
“In fucking Moscow?” Lance frowns, picking up the cards he threw after losing all his chips.
“Does she even do ballet?” Elliot asks.
“She told me last night that it was her dream to watch the ballet one day.”
“So, take her to The Royal Opera House to see Swan Lake,” Elliot suggests, coming to stand behind me.
“Oh, I’ve been to The Royal Opera House. Liam took me for my birthday.”
Why the fuck is he just walking into my office without knocking?
“What is it, George?”
“I’m just leaving for lunch. Hey!” He waves to the others.
“Actually, before you go, George. This is your boss, Elliot Montgomery. You should run all your queries through him from now on, and these are our friends, Charlie and Lance.”
He takes his time walking around the room, shaking their hands.
“Is that The Bolshoi?” George asks in surprise, moving to stand at my back. He peers down over my shoulder to get a better look at my screen.
