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It seems easy enough, and no experience is necessary, so technically, I’m qualified. My eyeballs home in on the last line.
Housing available upon request.
No offense to Greer, but if a job shoveling shit came with a place of my own, I’d be tempted enough to consider it.
I click on the email address before I can talk myself out of it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Roman
I end my fifth call of the morning with a lead ball in my stomach.
My head hits the desk with a heavy thud, and I’m thankful for the moment alone—no matter how brief—before I’m forced to put on a happy face and pretend everything’s under control.
I’ve never felt more out of my element in my life.
When I agreed to step in as temporary CEO to help my brother, Leo, two years ago, I had no idea what I was signing up for.
Between weather events impacting our factories, new product launches, and the thousands of employees depending on their jobs to support their families, I have the weight of the world on my shoulders.
And as if I needed another responsibility added to the heaping pile of shit that is my life, the town festival is the cherry on top.
Maybe if I were smarter, I’d ask for help, tell Leo that I’m struggling. But somehow, admitting to my older brother that I don’t like having hard conversations and doling out consequences doesn’t exactly feel like the solution to my problems.
I just need to man up and figure out how to find the balance. Besides, it’s only for another year, then I can go back to my comfort zone as the Chief Marketing Officer instead of this half and half bull shit.
Overhead lights flicker beneath my door, followed by gasps and shrieks of delight. They’re perkier than usual for a Monday morning.
I can’t quite make out what they all seem so excited about. I think back to the weekend events, but nothing major comes to mind.
My calendar pings, bringing my stress spiral to a close.
Reminder: New assistant starts today.
Well, that’s a relief. It’s going to be so nice to have an extra set of hands. Let’s just hope L.O.K.I. pulls through with someone qualified and doesn’t throw any curveballs my way.
I check the time, seeing it’s already nine o’clock. Time to make my morning rounds and check in with everyone on this floor. It’s something my dad always did, and one of my favorite parts of my job. I love connecting with people, making them feel valued and seen for more than just the work they do. It’s hard to always make time for it these days, especially these past few weeks, but this is what’s really important. So I’ll always find the time—even if it means staying and working late.
Empty coffee mug in hand, I make my way into the lobby.
“Good morning, Jan—” My words break off, and I skid to a stop. Now I realize the source of excitement this morning.
Kira Blakely, Hollywood A-lister and last summer’s Sports Illustrated cover model, is sitting in my lobby.
I thought the Black Friday campaign meetings normally start next month. I guess my last assistant, Kennedy, must’ve forgotten to update the calendar before she left for maternity leave.
“Oh, shit,” I mutter under my breath, making a beeline straight toward her. “I am so sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Blakely.” I hold out my hand to introduce myself. “I’m Roman Kingsley. It is so wonderful to meet you.”
The gorgeous brunette shakes my hand, her electric-blue eyes darting around like she’s confused. “It’s nice to meet you, too…”
“Again, I apologize for the wait. I’ve been without an assistant for the past couple of weeks, so I guess your visit must’ve flown under the radar.” I check my watch again. It’s two minutes past nine. This new assistant sure as hell isn’t making a good first impression. Serves me right for trusting L.O.K.I. to fill the position. Jesus, I guess I really do have to do everything around here.
I loosen my tie, suddenly feeling warmer than I was just a moment ago. “Can I get you a cup of coffee or…a milkshake?”
Milkshake? Seriously, Roman? That’s the best you could come up with? What the hell am I going to do if she says yes!?
“No… uh… I’m fine.”
