“Le chatgot your tongue?” I tease, my brain firing on all cylinders to regain his attention.
“Sorry, no.” He sighs, slapping the phone against his open palm. “But Jocelyn has my balls.”
He catches my demeanor shift. “No, uhhh, not like that. I’m just dealing with a minor crisis this morning.”
“What’s going on?” And why is my instinct to help fix it for him?
He lets out another long breath. “There’s this dinner tonight for the executives. One of Dominic’s guests, Jocelyn Peters... her luggage got lost on the flight over from New York. She doesn’t have anything to wear for dinner, but she also doesn’t have time to go shopping and—” He stops mid-sentence, scanning my body. “Actually, you might be able to help me with... What are your measurements?”
“Excuse me?” My eyes widen as I scoff, defensively wrapping my arms around my waist.
He lowers his voice. “If you’d prefer, I can guess based on memory...” He flashes that boyish smile, which really shouldn’t do to my core what it’s doing right now.
The man places both of our orders down on the counter with an acknowledging grunt.
I huff out a laugh. “Regardless ofthat, you seriously think I own something fancy enough for a high-powered executive to borrow?”
He leans over me, picking up a stack of napkins, wooden stirrers, and the four-cup holder. “Of course not. I have to find her something from one of the rich lady stores in the main town, but she’s going to have me murdered and buried in a lavender field if I don’t find her something nice.”
I let the smooth velvety coffee hit my tongue before I respond. “So you want to take me shopping?”
Oliver cracks a smile, tilting his head. “As much as that sounds appealing, I’ve already sent one of the interns out with her credit card to just buy whatever expensive work-appropriate dresses she can find in Jocelyn’s size. She’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
I shift onto one leg, placing a hand on my hip. “So what do you needmefor?”
“I’ve been attempting to arrange a time for Jocelyn to try on the options, but she’s completely booked all day.” He lifts an eyebrow at me. “What I need... is a mannequin. I obviously can’t ask any of the interns to try them on for me; that’s an HR violation waiting to happen.” He begins to relax, his shoulders lowering as a plan begins to form in his head.
I scoff with faux outrage. “And it wouldn’t be if you get me to do it?”
His hazel eyes slice right through me. “If putting clothesonyou is a HR violation...”
My cheeks flare. “And here I was thinking you ‘just got the coffees,’” I say, mimicking his former statement as I swirl my stirrer around in the white foam.
“In Dominic’s words, I’m his bitch who can be replaced whenever he wants.” He says it like he’s repeating it. “So are you interested in helping a poor guy out?”
The response is sitting on my lips. How would a successful CEO use the assistant of the big-time investor who’s asking them for a favor to their advantage, rather than just helping a peer out in a tough situation?
Every conversation is a negotiation.
I cross my arms. “What would you do for me in return?”
His eyes crease as he steps in closer, a smirk creeping along his lips. “What would you like me to do?”
I swallow, heat rising up my neck. “No, I mean what am I going to get out of helping you?”
“The pleasure of my company?” he offers, voice still low and smooth. “And I would be very,verygrateful.” His persuasive eyes twinkle at me before his phone starts to vibrate against the wood. “Car’s here.”
I suck my teeth, running through my options while he packs up his things.
He looms over me as he takes a final sip of his coffee. “Still need that ride? I have to go now to get these delivered for a meeting.”
Ignoring him, I say, “I want you to ensure Spencer gets twenty minutes to talk with Dominic at the investor drinks reception tomorrow night, alone.”
His eyes widen as he chokes on the hot liquid. “I can’t promise that.”
I press a finger into his chest, eyes flicking up to meet his as I say slowly, “I think... you can.”
Oliver lowers his chin, his face contorting into a look that screams, “Are you fucking serious?” But he doesn’t say anything, just slides his coat over his shoulders with graceful ease, maintaining eye contact with me the entire time. I imagine him placing the coat over my shoulders, his smell envelopingme as he uses the lapels to pull me in, before quickly snapping out of the daydream.We’re in the middle of a negotiation—stop objectifying him.
