How the hell did he do that?
Since she didn’t have time to grill him on his knowledge of her coffee-drinking habits, she just flashed a grateful smile. “Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”
“You’re welcome. Just part of being a good Daddy.”
“I donothave time for that argument right now, so if you want to fight with me it’s going to have to wait until I get home from work. Or you get home. Whichever comes first. Last? Oh my god, I have togo. Thanks again for the coffee!”
Without waiting for a response, she all but ran to the front door to slip on her shoes, then grabbed her computer case and purse. According to the clock in her car, she made it with one minute to spare.
Unfortunately, she lost that minute and nearly sixty more thanks to an accident on the interstate. On any other day, it would have been an annoying inconvenience. But when she was supposed to be in a meeting at eight o’clock on the dot, it was damn near catastrophic. Thank god she wasn’t presenting until later in the meeting, but needless to say, her day wasnotoff to the best start.
She managed to get her computer docked and logged into the meeting a solid five minutes before her turn to present. If there was a God, or some higher power, her boss would be toowrapped up in the meeting to notice she’d slipped in nearly half an hour late.
No such luck.
Chase:
The workday begins at 8 am, Samantha.
Ignoring the message, she pulled up the files she needed for her part of the presentation on the bank’s proposal to build a brand-new online banking platform from scratch. The numbers did not favor the decision in the least, but twenty years in the industry had taught her that the numbers wouldn’t matter nearly as much as they should. Everyone wanted her to find and present the data, but nobody wanted to actually listen to it.
Corporate America at its finest.
At least there weren’t any major glitches with her presentation. A couple of the higher-ups wanted to argue her conclusions, but she’d come prepared to back up her findings with data and more data. By the time the meeting ended at ten, she was more than ready for a break.
But when she turned away from her computer, Chase was there, blocking the doorway with his hands on his hips looking every bit like a recalcitrant toddler.
“Care to explain why you were nearly half an hour late this morning, Mrs. Fleming?”
Care to go fuck yourself, Mr. Reinhardt?That was what she wanted to say. But like most women in the workforce, she was well trained in the art of smiling through the bullshit, so she painted a polite one on her face as she rose from her chair. “Traffic. There was an accident.”
“You should leave yourself enough time to account for such things.”
She had an extra twenty-five minutes built into her schedule every day, for that exact reason. Without traffic, her commute was only about twenty minutes. But she never left later than seven-fifteen, even on days like today when she overslept. There was no fucking way she was going to leave her house at six-thirty every day, just on the off-chance she ran intoextraheavy traffic.
Unfortunately, middle management didn’t care about any of that. Or at least men like Chase Reinhardt didn’t care. So she simply kept her polite smile in place and nodded in agreement. “It won’t happen again.”
Chase at least had the good sense to move out of her way when she stepped forward, though he kept the disapproving scowl in place.
And her day just seemed to get worse from there.
Dylan
So far, interning at one of the largest biotechnical firms in the world was far less glamorous than he’d pictured it in his head.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to pay his dues and put the time in. But it still made him itchy that he couldn’t just dive into the actual work and was instead spending his time fetching coffee and running other ridiculous errands. That was the gig, though, and at least he got to spend some time listening to people talk about the kind of research he dreamed of doing someday soon.
Dropping into one of the surprisingly plush chairs in the break room, he pulled out his phone and swiped open his contact list. After last night, he’d decided to give Sam a bit of space this morning to think things over, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t send her a quick text, let her know he was thinking about her.
And ensure she was thinking about him, too.
Hey, beauti?—
No. That was cheesy.
Did you make it to work on time?
Hmmm. That could potentially come across bossier than he was really intending. Not that he didn’t plan on bossing the fuck out of her once she finally agreed to be his Little girl, but for now he probably needed to tone it down.
