I laugh. “I’ll try to be. What do you have in there?”
A mischievous smile stretches across her face. “Mandarins, charcuterie, cheese slices, and… my special chocolate.”
I smile, adjusting the framed photo of Ethan on my desk. “Well, I don’t know about the special chocolate, but I love mandarins.”
She walks over to the cabinet next to the refrigerator. “And I’ve got some crackers and nuts in here, granola bars too. As long as you ask, you can have some.”
“Thank you.”
I stare at the black and white framed photo on the wall; the Chicago skyline. I still can’t believe I’m here, in the penthouse of Orchard Heights. The girls and I always wondered what it looked like. Now I can tell them all about it. Well, I’m sure many rooms will remain a mystery, but it’s still pretty exciting.
“All settled in?” he asks.
My heart jumps at the sound of his voice. When I turn to look at him, my whole body reacts in a way it hasn’t in years. Or ever.
This needs to stop. I need to act like a normal human being around him. “Uh… yes, I’m just getting my desk ready,” I tell him, trying not to stare too long. He’s all in black today… Mr. Dark & Mysterious.
“Great,” he says. “Don’t hesitate to talk to Rosetta if you need anything.”
“Uh… thank you for the chair,” I’m quick to say. “Rosetta told me how you insisted I have a good chair.”
He walks closer to my desk, and rests a hand on its edge. “I know a good chair is very important in your field. The well-being of my employees is always tantamount.”
I nod. Yes, he’s reminding me that he’s my boss. I’m just a lowly employee, and I should probably stop staring at his sculpted shoulders.
Bosses should not be allowed to be this good looking.
He leaves us with a wave, and I feel suddenly empty. I want him to come back. I want to be near him. But I know this is all I’ll get in the coming months, just quick occasional glances of him, a real tease fest.
Well, I certainly could have worse problems.
* * *
After lunch,Rosetta gives me all the notes pertaining to the project. It’s all there; charity information, numbers, projected plans, mission statement, and all that fun stuff. The report also includes various possible color themes and an overview of the dynamic we are going for; peaceful, hopeful, warm and positive.
“Boss Man has set up a meeting for this afternoon going over all this. And after that, you’re on your own,” Rosetta tells me. “I’ll be overseeing the project since Boss Man is so busy doing who knows what. You’ll work on a few options for us, and you can hand me your work when it’s done. I’ll make sure he has a look. Once he decides what concept he likes the best, you can get to work on all the stuff you’ll need to do.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say, secretly relieved that I won’t need to spend much time with him. Rosetta, I can take. Mr. Boss Man, not so much. He’s nice, but intimidating as hell. I suppose some people are just like that. They possess a quiet imposing force, a strong presence.
* * *
It’s three o‘clock,and the three of us are all seated at the round dining room table. The room is stunning; a mahogany table, blue velvet chairs and a fabulous sparkling glass chandelier. One wall is mirrored, the other displays tasteful black and white photos of sea life. The opposing wall is a built-in rack of wine bottles.
I’m still ogling the space when Mr. Boss Man officially starts the meeting. We all have copies of the report, and Weston insists on diligently going over every point, welcoming feedback and questions. I’m too overwhelmed to ask anything or offer any feedback. Rosetta, on the other hand, is very vocal. Too vocal, some might say. They clash a little, but I can tell she’s the perfect compliment for him. She’s the sweet to his salty. The yin to his yang.
We go over possible names for the organization, names from a list created by Mr. Hanson and Rosetta. We finally settle onPrecious Hearts Memorial Fund.
I’m exhausted and so ready to go home and see Ethan. I don’t want to just run off, but it is my checkout time. I thank both Mr. Hanson and Rosetta before I leave.
As I ride the elevator down, I’m happy with how the day went. I smile at the recollection of Rosetta’s antics, and I grin when I think of Weston. He’s Mr. Boss Man. He’s Mr. Hanson. But he’s also Weston. Although I would never call him that in his presence.
I’m not stupid. I know my place.
* * *
I settlefor a simple grey sheath dress, and red pointy kitten heels for my second day. I’m already full of ideas, giddy.
“I’m happy to see you like this,” Patricia says. “You’re practically glowing.”
