No, that’s not acceptable!” I exclaimed, my voice rising a notch. I kicked my car door shut, or at least I tried to. The sheer number of things in my arms made it impossible to do anything with my hands. While I hated taking work home, I had no choice. This merger was going to be the end of me. It was either take work home with me or stay at the office for the next few weeks. “Mr. Jennings needs his tux on Saturday,nottwo weeks from Saturday.”
Even as I said the words, my heart spiked even. As Allen Jennings’s personal assistant, it didn’t matter if the shop had screwed it up. It’d be my fault. I couldn’t afford for it to be my fault. And I knew what he’d say when he found out. How could he run a million-dollar company when his assistant couldn’t even be bothered to get the date right for a tux rental? My job would be on the line.
Stopping in the parking lot, I forced out a rough breath against the tightness in my chest.
“Unfortunately, I’m not sure there’s anything we—”
“Unfortunatelyisn’t an option here, Jessica,” I interrupted the woman on the phone. “I rented a tux from you. We confirmed the order. I have the—you know what? Hold on!”
Shifting everything in my arms, I struggled to yank my phone out of my pocket. Thank fuck for Bluetooth because I’d never make this phone call work otherwise.
“Mr. Baker,” Jessica began while I flipped through my phone to get to my email, “I understand that this situation is frustrating—”
“Ha!” I barked out. “You don’t get to say you understand my frustration when I’m staring at the order confirmationfrom youas we speak. And guess what, Jessica? It says Saturday! This Saturday! It can’t be two weeks from Saturday!”
“Well, perhaps Mr. Jennings could postpone his plans,” she replied tentatively. This goddamn woman.
“Ah, yes,” I rolled my eyes, “I’ll just call up the Wyndhams and tell them to postpone the charity gala becauseyoumessed up your intake system. I’m sure that will go over so well.”
Was dropping the Wyndham name a last resort? Absolutely. But the only people no one ever crossed were the Wyndhams. I’d met Mr. Wyndham twice, and he terrified me. He had this quiet, dangerous kind of power. And his wife? She was even scarier, all while maintaining perfect hair and nails. I had no doubt they’d had people killed before. They just had that kind of vibe.
Or maybe they were genuinely nice people who didn’t want other people to like them because then they’d have to socialize more.
Honestly, I could understand that last one. People sucked, but rich people sucked even more, and those were the circles they were in.
“You know, I think we might have a fix for this,” Jessica said. Yup, she didn’t want to upset anything Wyndham-related either. “I’m going to go look into a few things, and I’ll call you back shortly. Is that okay?”
“That’d be fantastic, Jessica,” I replied.
“Thank you, Mr. Baker.” The phone clicked as the call ended, and I sighed.
Maybe I should’ve been a little nicer, but I couldn’t afford to suffer for her mistake. Mr. Jennings was awful to work for, but I needed this job. I liked to believe that one day it’d lead me to another job. A better one. A job where I was wanted and appreciated, rather than pushed to my breaking point daily. One day, maybe.
Hopefully.
Hopefullyone day.
I was trying to work on my positive mindset—thank you to my therapist, Barb, for that one.
Getting inside with my hands full was an award-winning feat. I went through the locked foyer door and up five flights of stairs without dropping a single thing. I even managed to make it through my own door—though I almost dropped the top few files while trying to get the key in the door. With an exhausted sigh, I put everything on the table.
“Oh, that feels good,” I let out as I shook my arms to keep them from cramping.
The relief was short-lived as I realized there was a single red rose sitting in the middle of my table. A black silk ribbon was tied neatly around its stem. The knot was perfect, and the ends were arranged over the ivory envelope underneath it.
My heart lodged in my throat.
I obviously hadn’t left that there.
No one had the key to my apartment. Well, except for my landlord, but I had a feeling that eighty-four-year-old Lionel Kleebes wasn’t leaving me a rose in my apartment.
Lips pressed together tightly, I just stared at it. Waiting. For what exactly, I didn’t know. It wasn’t like it was just going to jump up and bite me.
Still, the appearance of an envelope and a rose in my apartment was unnerving. Someone had been in here. Someone had broken in and left it there for me to find.
Curiosity combated the rising fear weaving through my chest. Was it wrong that I wanted to know who had enough nerve to break in to leave me a flower? And a single red rose nonetheless. I picked it up and brought the tightly curled bud to my nose. I inhaled deeply, letting the strong perfumed aroma fill my lungs.
The hopeless romantic in me knew a single red rose was a powerful symbol. It stood for devotion and new beginnings. It meant passion and love. It represented everything I craved in my life and everything I sorely lacked.
