“You know, I have to admit,” she says with a lilt in her voice as she pretends to care about the fish. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”
“Oh, really?” I ask, walking over to my desk to grab my coffee. I don’t sit down. I don’t turn my back. I keep my eyes on her even though she refuses to look at me. “Why is that?”
“Most of the girls don’t make it past the second day,” she says.
“I see,” nod. “I guess I’m not most girls.”
Jocelyn turns to me. “I guess not. Tell me. How was your first day?”
“Well, considering I made it through the interview without him so much as glancing down at my resume, I felt pretty good. Of course, I made a point of taking mental notes the moment I walked through the door. I had his coffee order memorized before he even asked for it.”
“You do realize that this job is a lot more than getting his Americano, splash of cream, no sugar, right?” she says.
“I do. And so far, from what I can tell, he’s been pleased.”
“Night shift and all?” she asks. I really don’t know who this woman is, but she knows more than she lets on. If I had to guess, she knows everything. Though I’m not sure why.
“Night shift and all,” I answer. Jocelyn studies me.
“Hmm. Well, good for you. Like I said, no one passes his tests on the first try. Most people get eliminated before they ever have a chance. You got lucky.”
“I like to think I’m good at my job,” I tell her. “I don’t think luck had anything to do with it.”
After a long moment of studying me, she smiles. It appears to be genuine. It’s almost like she had to hold up the bitchy act until she tested the waters. “I like you,” she says. “You’re saltier than the others. That’s why you’re still here.”
“Thanks?” I say, but it comes out like a question.
“Listen, I’m hungry. What do you say you take that coffee into Damien’s office and come down to the shop with me? They’re making chocolate croissants today, and they are simply to die for when they’re still hot.”
“That does sound good,” I say with hesitation. “I doubt he’d want me going for a snack break as soon as I get here,” I answer.
Jocelyn arches an eyebrow, and it makes me think about it. I came to work today with my head held high and with determination to set my own ground rules. I’m wearing the gold dress! I check the time. I still have ten minutes before Damien arrives. I can still set his schedule and his coffee on his desk before he gets here. As long as he has what he needs, does he really need me standing there to wish him a good morning? It’s not like he answers me half the time anyway.
So, I do just that. Jocelyn and I head down to the coffee shop. As we ride the elevator, she turns to me. “So here’s a couple of things about Damien you should probably know.”
“I feel like I know him pretty well, but shoot,” I say to her. After all, she has been here longer than me, and she’s still here. Any advice I can get on how to handle the man who is literally driving me crazy, both in a good way and a bad way, is very welcome at this point.
“Never wear anything to work unless it comes off that rack. If he bought you clothes, he expects you to wear them, and don’t think he’ll forget. He has a photographic memory, specifically when it comes to what women are wearing. He likes to say it comes with the territory of working in Las Vegas, where everything is an aesthetic. I say it’s because Damien Graves low-key loves fashion.”
I nod while making mental notes, something that I happen to be very good at. “What else?” I ask as the elevator door opens and we make our way to the shop. I can already smell the sweet baked goods, and my mouth starts to water.
“Never act insecure. Damien wants his women to be confident, but not so confident that it comes off as arrogant. There’s a difference between being stubborn and trying to dominate him,” she tells me.
“So more of a brat than a sub, but never a dom,” I say. “Got it.”
Jocelyn blinks at me, not sure whether to be shocked or to smile. “Right,” she says before going on. We approach the coffee shop, and she orders two chocolate scones and an almond milk latte.
“I really shouldn’t be eating this,” she says as she taps her employee card on the reader. “But they’re just so good, and I only have one once a week.”
“I really don’t think you have anything to worry about,” I say as my eyes sweep over her. She is thin, with perfect perky little boobs and a slender, flat waistline. Even before I had Luca, I didn’t look like that. I can’t help but envy her, both for her body and the fact that she seems to have this whole place worked out.
“How long have you worked here?” I ask.
“About a year,” she answers as the barista hands Jocelyn her coffee and our sweet treats. “I know it might not sound like much, but trust me, in this industry, and on the strip, not tomention, working for Damien Graves, anything over a month is a miracle. Over six months is unheard of.”
“So, what’s your secret?” I ask as I chew. She’s right; these croissants, filled with creamy, melted dark chocolate, are divine.
“You want to know?” she asks after a hesitant moment. I nod. She motions for me to keep following her, then she lowers her voice and says, “Never get attached.”
