Page 238 of Manhattan Bossholes

“Trent?” Nana Dee said, giving me an expectant glare.

I wanted to tell her that she was out of her mind, that it didn’t make any sense at all to bring Natasha on at Saunders Furniture…but the more I thought about it, the more I realized she was right. Natasha did have the know-how I needed. Imagining being around her every day had me wanting to throttle something—but I could put my feelings aside if it was what I needed to secure the future of Saunders Furniture.

“Sustainable designs aren’t what we’re known for. Not just in the materials we choose, but in our whole aesthetic.” When my parents had been in charge after Nana Dee’s retirement, they’d taken the company in the direction of very modern, sleek, minimalist designs. That was still our bread and butter, so I’d never consider getting rid of it, but starting something new with a sustainability slant meant a pretty big paradigm shift, and no one I’d met had the vision I needed. Everyone I’d brought in for interviews kept trying to appeal to me with designs that were very similar to what our company already had. Either they didn’t grasp that I wanted new ideas or they were too afraid of me to push the envelope.

For all her faults, Natasha was definitely not afraid of me.

I gritted my teeth. “Can I see more of your portfolio?”

“Uh…” She frowned. Nana Dee looked at her hopefully, and Natasha pulled out her tablet, showing us some simple sketches she’d put together after this meeting was set to brainstorm ideas for what would go well with the desk Nana Dee already had.

Damn it. They were gorgeous.

We wrapped up breakfast shortly after, with Nana Dee claiming she was tired, and I walked Natasha to the door.

“So, you can start on Monday.”

She stared at me in confusion. “Start what?”

“I’m offering you a job with Saunders Furniture.”

“Are you?” she said. “Sorta sounds like you’re telling me I have a job.”

“What’s the difference? We both know you need the work.”

She stepped onto the porch, turning to face me so I could get the full impact of her glare. “Again, thanks to you.”

“And now thanks to me, you are no longer unemployed.”

“I haven’t said yes yet.”

“Please don’t act like you have any better options.”

Natasha stiffened. “I can think of plenty of better options that do not involve working for you. If I want to make eighty thousand dollars with a side of bullshit, I’ll just go back to working three part-time jobs.” She turned for the steps, but I caught her arm.

“Okay. What do you want?”

She pulled away and crossed her arms, clearly annoyed with me. “From you? Nothing.”

“I mean it. Name your price.”

“Fine.” She smirked. “One hundred and fifty thousand starting salary.” She pursed her lips. “And a yearly bonus based on the performance of the new product line.”

That’s it? Those were her terms? “Done. I’ll have the contract drawn up by the time you arrive for work.”

She stared at me. “Wait…what?”

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘Thank you, boss.’ See you Monday.” I closed the door on her completely stunned expression. I really did like it best when I got the last word.

5

NATASHA

Monday had to be the worst of all the days to start a new job.

It was generally the worst day of the week, but on this particularly important Monday, I’d accidentally set my alarm for six p.m. instead of a.m., woke up a half hour later by the sheer grace of God, spilled coffee on my blouse as I ran to make the transfer from the subway to the Long Island Railroad to get to Saunders Furniture’s Long Island office, and forgotten to put my charging cable in my purse, which meant my phone would be dead by the afternoon.

I hated Mondays.