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He stands and drags the chair back to its spot near my office door. “I have one to add to that and three I suggest we pass on.”
“Call the passes and wish them well.” I push to my feet. “We’ll go over the other one tomorrow.”
“You’re taking off?” There’s no surprise in his tone. Jared’s well aware that I’m not the nine-to-five type.
I round the desk and yank a gray suit coat from a hook on the rack near the doorway. “There’s someone I need to see.”
***
“Is Ms. Walsh expecting you?” The woman behind the reception desk at Matiz Cosmetics gives me the once-over.
“Yes,” I lie with a smile.
“You said your name is Mr. Jones?” She blinks. “Is this a business matter?”
“It’s Rocco Jones. Ms. Walsh will know what it’s concerning.”
She hesitates, glancing at the computer screen in front of her. “I’ll call her line and see if she’s available.”
She does just that, poking a few buttons on the phone on her desk before she speaks into the receiver. “There’s a Mr. Rocky Jones here to see you, Ms. Walsh.”
“Rocco,” I correct her with a grin.
She ignores that with a scowl.
I glance down the long corridor, but the only movement is the leaf of a large potted plant being blown by the overhead air conditioning.
“I’ll tell him,” she says and then hangs up the phone. Her attention shifts from it to me. “Ms. Walsh will be able to see you in ten minutes. If you’d like to wait, you can do so in the visitors’ lounge.”
I look to the left, and then the right. “Where might that be?”
She gestures behind me to a row of fabric-covered chairs that border the wall opposite her desk. “There.”
She can call it whatever she likes. I take a seat in what is obviously a generic waiting area. The walls are painted a neutral tan. The carpeting on the floor is the same hue.
From what I’ve seen so far, the marketing department of Matiz Cosmetics is boring as hell. It’s nothing like the woman I’m here to see.
I’m curious to find out how the hell she ended up working here.
Chapter 20
Dexie
My office doesn’t have the same view out the window as my apartment. Most people would consider the views from the Matiz Cosmetics Tower spectacular. I’m not one of them. I much prefer to glance through a plate of glass to see Rocco Jones in all his half-naked glory.
The vision of Central Park and the tops of the sun-touched buildings beyond that I’m witness to each day is breathtaking in its own right, but it’s not what I wish I were staring at right now.
What I want to be looking at is Rocco Jones handsome face, and apparently, that’s waiting for me in the visitors’ lounge.
I stare at the late afternoon blue sky, debating whether to invite Rocco into my office or to the café across the street.
Coffee is ridiculously expensive there because of the Fifth Avenue address, but that hasn’t deterred anyone who works in this building or the others that line this block.
If the man wants to discuss my purse business, I’d prefer if that happened outside the confines of the Matiz offices.
My co-workers all know that my dream is to own a brand that rivals that of the boutique on the corner. You can walk out of there with a handbag that costs as much as six months worth of my rent.
I want the notoriety without the high price tag.
