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“But then you’ll definitely get fired.” Luz frowns.
“Not if she waits until the end,” Adriana says. I can see her mind whirling behind her eyes. She tilts her head. “It’s a good idea.”
“But what if you get sued?” Luz cuts in. “I don’t like it, Cal. Jonah doesn’t seem like the kind of person to take this lying down. He threatened you, for fuck’s sake.” She leans forward. “He’s basically buying you as a servant.” Her eyes are huge and worried.
“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds bad.” I wrinkle my nose at her.
“That’s because it is bad.” She nearly knocks over her wineglass as she gestures. “He could ruin you.”
“He already has,” Adriana murmurs. Her eyes cut to mine, and my lips twist in acknowledgement.
“It’s true, Luz. He could ruin the paper over the next six months. And even if I do get it back intact, who knows what the readership will look like. I need insurance. In case he decides to bully me. And to prove to my father that I can be taken seriously.”
“I don’t like it,” Luz mutters.
“Me neither.” I give her a half smile. “But I can make this work. It’s six months. How bad could he be?”
9
Callie
The tower housing Kings Lane Capital looked evil when I first took the elevator to the meeting with Jonah, but today it seems to pulse with ill will—a black monolith against the bright blue October sky. I pull my skirt down and lean against a support pylon to slip on my pumps. My skirt is definitely too short, but my heels are comfortable enough and my plain green blouse shouldn’t draw any attention. I don’t have the budget for fancy new office clothes, so Jonah is going to have to deal.
I suck in deep lungfuls of air as I ride the elevator up to the top floor. Kings Lane owns the entire building, but the executives sit on the 52nd floor, where we had our meeting. Since I’ll be working with Jonah, presumably I, too, will sit in those hallowed halls. My ears pop as the chrome elevator rockets upward, and I crack my jaw.
When the elevator opens, George greets me. I met them at the end of our meeting last week, and they seem nice enough. The once-over I get today and single brow raise speaks volumes.
“Ms. Thompson. Welcome to your first day at Kings Lane.” They flick a glance at my pumps.
“Is something wrong with my outfit?”
“You’ll see,” they say ominously and whirl, in a cloud of spicy cologne and draped silk.
“I’m not really a business casual girl. I’m here against my will, after all,” I mutter.
“I’ll let you take that up with Jonah,” they shoot back.
The hall is nearly all floor-to-ceiling windows, and soft sage-colored carpet. It’s hushed and elegant, with artful arrangements of armchairs, coffee table books, and paintings.
George points out their desk, in front of Miles’s office in the northeast corner, and then leads me down the hall to Jonah’s office in the opposite corner, and my desk standing guard outside the door. While George’s desk is a command station, my desk is tiny, and the light above appears to be out?
“Problem with the lighting?” I ask.
A flash of humor crosses George’s face. “I suppose so. You’ll need to contact facilities.”
So that’s how it is. George isn’t a part of this nonsense, but they aren’t going to help me either.
“Is Jonah here?”
“It’s Mr. Crown actually,” a deep voice says. Jonah’s voice. George leaves me with a faint smile, and I finally turn. Jonah is leaning against the door to his office, arms crossed, a mocking smile on his face. He looks absolutely edible in a gray-blue suit that skims over his broad shoulders. His dark hair is pushed off his forehead, and the hollow of his throat is bared above his collared shirt. No tie. Casual. The Devil off duty. Ruthless ambition with a veneer of civility. He really is beautiful. I give myself a mental shake. Don’t think about how hot he is. I need to focus on getting through the day.
“So nice of you to join us.” His smile fades as he scans me. His jaw tightens as he takes in my skirt and my sensible heels.
“Problem with my clothing?”
“Skirt’s a tad short, but it’ll do.” He shrugs and my face flames. My fingers twitch to tug at my skirt, but I clench them into fists. I refuse to play his games. Not when insubordination could get me fired, along with a whole host of other things.
“Apologies,” I say stiffly. “Business casual isn’t my normal attire. It won’t happen again.” It most definitely will happen again, because I have about three appropriate outfits and no money to buy more.
