He holds out an arm. “Why don’t you come into my office, and we can chat about your financial goals.”
“Sure, but I’d like to bring my friend along.” She gestures me forward. “Mr. Glaffort?—”
“Call me Raymond, or Ray.” He grins.
“Sure, um, Raymond, this is my friend Damiano Romano.”
Boyfriend. Lover. Fiancé. She can say anything but “friend.” I dutifully shake hands with Glaffort and keep my possessive thoughts in my head.
We make our way down the hall to a decently-sized office decked out in dark wood tones and ruthlessly pruned plants. Glaffort invites us to take a seat, so we do. As Madison gets settled, she leans down to grab something from her bag. Glaffort uses the opportunity to look down her t-shirt.
I will rip his eyes from his head for looking at her like that.
MADISON
Every time Raymond Glaffort looks in my direction, Damiano’s dark brown eyes narrow. Is he…jealous? I grin to myself. This could be interesting. Damiano seems like a man who wants to be in control at all times, but jealousy is the opposite of control. Jealousy is allowing the greedy lizard brain to take over. The brain that whispers, mine, no sharing.
But as fun as it could be to push Damiano’s buttons, I won’t use Raymond in that way. Even if he is a bit sleazy.
I shove aside my thoughts on jealousy and do my best to listen to Raymond’s pitch. He talks about diversifying assets, managing my inheritance, and choosing aggressive versus conservative investments. I do my best to follow along, but as someone who historically never had money, it’s really fucking hard to understand this language.
Damiano asks several rather pointed questions. I can tell he doesn’t like Raymond, and Raymond probably feels the same. They both remain professional, but frosty. Raymond ups his efforts to impress me, but between the way he looks at me and how I caught him staring at my chest, I don’t think I can work with the guy.
Finally, the meeting is over. Raymond starts walking us out, but a dark-haired woman steps from another office and sees us. “Damiano,” she exclaims with a large smile. “What are you doing here? I hope you weren’t going to sneak out without saying hello.”
“Great! I’m here with Madison Greene. Madison, this is Marguerite Fenton.”
“Hello.” I shake her hand. I’m not sure what else to say. Interviewing her employee hasn’t impressed me. “This is a beautiful office building.”
“It really is.” She gives me a warm smile before linking arms with Damiano. “Raymond, I’ll take things from here, thank you.”
“Of course. Madison, it was very nice to meet you. I hope to hear from you soon.”
“Thanks, you too.” Except it wasn’t very nice to meet him, and I don’t hope to hear from him soon.
As soon as we’ve walked far enough to be out of Raymond’s earshot, Marguerite leans toward Damiano. “You hate him. Why?”
Damiano adopts an uncaring tone, but even I can tell he’s seething. “I don’t like his face.”
“And…?” Marguerite prompts.
“And I don’t like the way he looked at Madison.”
“Ah.” Marguerite takes us all the way outside. She turns to me. “I apologize for my colleague, and I will speak to him personally about this.”
“It wasn’t really terrible,” I say.
She narrows her dark brown eyes. “Does Damiano exaggerate?”
“No, I guess not.”
“You guess not?” Damiano shakes his head in mock outrage. “He stared down your shirt when you leaned forward.”
“Okay, enough.” Marguerite waves her hands in a calming motion. “So I will speak to Raymond. In the meantime, Madison, I understand that you’re looking to manage a substantial inheritance. I’m not sure which of my receptionists passed your case to Raymond, but if you’re interested, I would be happy to take a look myself and go over some thoughts with you tomorrow or Friday.”
I shake her hand. “I’d appreciate that, thank you.”
Damiano and I say goodbye to Marguerite, who I rather like for her no-nonsense manner.
