I am. As long as you’re over her.
Over her?
**not sleeping with her.
I’m NOT sleeping with Andrea.
You know what I mean…You’re not touching inappropriately or kissing her either, right?
At this moment, no.
Have you EVER?
Harrison?
HARRISON?!
TWENTY-SEVEN
ANDREA
Several Days Later
Ihung a picture of Everly on my brand-new office wall and nailed a custom nameplate at the center of my new bookshelf.
Andrea Stone: From Sweet Seasons Barista to CFO
I’d bought it back when I was still steaming milk behind the counter, telling myself it wasn’t delusional to dream bigger.
Back when the CFO title felt like a fantasy, not a possibility.
“Where do you want this bookshelf, Miss Stone?” A mover asked.
“Um, can it go in the parlor room?”
“You got it.”
“Thank you.” I fell back onto my sofa and gazed at Central Park.
As I was drafting out my schedule for the rest of this week, Mr. Cross walked into my office.
“I think I’ve allowed enough time for you to transition,” he said. “I need you to pack my things for our upcoming conference, preferably by the end of today.”
“What?”
“Suits for every dinner on the agenda, new pajamas from my tailor since he just called about those, and well—I’m sure you know how to pack for a business trip,” he said. “You need to pack as well since you have to attend.”
“I’m sorry…” I shook my head. “I thought I was the CFO now.”
“You are,” he said, gesturing to my nameplate. “Obviously.”
“So, why are you asking me to do assistant things?”
“Because I don’t have a new assistant, Miss Stone,” he said. “And until I do, you’re still mine.”
The words slid under my skin before I could stop them.
“No…” I shook my head. “I’m not.”
