“I just wanted to compare notes on our network,” she adds.
My assistant rushes into the room. “You are not supposed to be in here.” Mandy’s mouth is turned down. “Sorry, Salinger. I was getting coffee. Scarlett, out. You cannot just walk into the CEO’s office without an appointment.”
Smirking, I note Mandy’s irritation, the tension in her arms held stiffly by her side, the disarray of her hair.
“You’re not being as nice to her as you were to donut boy.” I lock eyes with Mandy. “I wonder why…”
Scarlett’s mouth twitches into a smile.
Two spots of color appear on Mandy’s cheeks.
“Next time, I’ll bring donuts,” Scarlet says in that same flirty tone.
“Not on my account.” I spear another lettuce leaf, a salty olive, and some of the feta cheese. Somehow, it’s the best goddamn salad I’ve ever eaten.
“I don’t think you brought him enough food, Mandy,” Scarlett says sweetly. “The poor man is starving.”
“She’s right,” I add, just to needle Mandy.
The skin on my assistant’s nose goes tight.
“This really wasn’t enough,” I say. The salad disappears too soon.
Mandy crosses her arms. “I’ll make a note for next time.”
“I haven’t been an assistant or personal chef or anything,” Scarlett continues in that breathy tone, “but I had no idea it was that difficult to buy a meal for a man. I’m already learning so much on this internship.”
“Don’t bother Mr. Svensson unless you’re bringing him a contract.” Mandy shoos the girl to the door.
Scarlett isn’t dissuaded. “Like I was saying, I came here to compare notes and see if some of my contacts could help him on any high-priority project.”
Wiping my mouth, I say, “Mandy, put her on my calendar.”
Scarlett beams.
Mandy’s lips become a thin line of annoyance.
“Oh, Sal?” Scarlett asks.
“Mr. Svensson,” Mandy corrects.
“This is the West Coast, Mandy, not the East Coast. You don’t have to use honorifics here, Scarlett.”
The intern poses in the doorway. “Just want to know what my bonus will be if I do help you land a contract.”
“I love the confidence. Come to me with your best offer.”
Mandy points Scarlett to the elevator, then she’s back, storming around as she collects the plates. Her annoyance creates a cloud around my desk.
I lean back in my chair. “Jealous?”
“You’re gross. She’s barely twenty-one.”
I stroke my chin. “And yet she already has a business mind to rival that of a forty-year-old corporate mercenary.”
For a second, it seems like Mandy’s going to bash the dirty plate over my head.
“Does she?” Mandy asks. “Or is she just mimicking it enough to lull you into a false sense of complacency, softening you up so she can become the next Mrs. Svensson?”
