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I chew on my bottom lip. “Everyone’s gonna assume I got the job because we’re fucking.”
I didn’t mean for it to come out quite that vulgar, but it did anyway, and now, Dmitri’s cocked eyebrow and slight smirk have me blushing through my nerves. But I stand by my point. That is what people will think, like it or not.
“Let them believe what they want,” Dmitri says dismissively. “I’m hiring you because I think you can do this. End of story.”
I eye his phone, conscious of the fact that Mitchell is still on the line, probably chomping at the bit to undo this catastrophe. “He’s gonna hate me.”
Dmitri shrugs. “That’s his problem, not yours. If he mistreats you in any way, all you have to do is let me know.”
I roll my eyes. “Right. ‘Cause tattling to the boss is gonna make me real popular.”
“You shouldn’t care about being popular,” he growls. “You shouldn’t care about being liked. You’re too fucking special to care about shit like that, Wren. Do the job and do it properly and you will earn their respect.”
That hits home.
I find myself nodding. “Okay.”
With a satisfied smirk, he takes the call off hold. “Mitchell?”
“I’m still here, sir. You were saying?—”
“I was saying that Ms. Turner will be coming on board as project manager. And if anyone has a problem with that… well, my door’s always open.”
And so is your window, I think wryly.
“Uh… um… I see,” Mitchell stutters. “I have no problem with it, sir. It’s just that… I’m the manager for the Montgomery project.”
“And I’m sure you and Ms. Turner will work together flawlessly.”
“Ah, um, yes… of course.”
On that shell-shocked note, Dmitri says goodbye and hangs up. I let out a whistling breath and run a hand through my hair. “The poor man.” I stare at him while I shake my head. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
“I didn’t do anything. You did.” He gestures to the mockup plans cast around his desk. “Everything you said made sense. I need a competent person on my team and you’re currently unemployed. It’s a win-win.”
He has a point there. Having a job, a real job, will go a long way in making me feel like more than just a useless broodmare.
“I just want to make one thing clear,” he says. I hold my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “You don’t have to work if you don’t want to. If you’d rather be a stay-at-home mother, that’s fine with me. I just want you to have the choice.”
Wow. That’s not the shoe I expected to be dropped.
Suddenly, I’m battling the very real urge to kiss him. And I’m not talking about a demure thank-you-for-believing-in-me kiss either. I’m talking full-on, tongue in mouth, I-wanna-rip-your-clothes-off kind of kiss.
And since I’m dangerously close to losing that battle, I just thank him awkwardly and get the hell out of his space.
23
WREN
Project Manager. Never in human history have two boring-ass words sounded so exciting.
Projects? Lame.
Managers? Gag.
But me, a project manager?!
I feel like a motherfuckin’ rockstar.
