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She doesn’t comment. Instead, she traces the box with her finger.
“So, this is your attempt at an olive branch?” she asks.
“Of sorts.”
“Everybody here is terrified you’re going to fire them, that their reckoning is upon them.” She watches me.
“I will fire as many as I need to. I have to get rid of the bad seeds, Miss Hill. That’s why I’m here. I’m not some villain.”
She blushes, and guilt flashes in her eyes.
“There’s an office party next Friday,” she begins hesitantly. “There is one every March. It’s a tradition we have here. You should come. It might help un-demonize you.”
I haven’t heard about any office party.
“Will you be there?” I say abruptly, then curse myself for the way that sounds.
Her eyes widen, and she blinks rapidly. “Well, yes.”
I don’t like parties, even when I’m forced to attend them, but I also don’t want to miss out on the chance to see Lana dressed in more informal wear.
Why it matters to me, I don’t yet know.
I’m not willing to explore my reasoning.
“I can stop by,” I say, reluctance heavy in my voice. “I have a conference call on Friday night with Caleb, so, I’ll be in the office anyway.”
This time, she smiles warmly, the contrast with her previous cold looks so strong I stagger. “Thanks.” She paused, then adds, “For trying.”
“Of course,” I say, standing.
She touches the pastry box. “And for this.”
There’s an odd softness in her eyes I find very appealing. “You’re welcome.”
I pause at the doorway, then turn to innocently ask, “Is it true you once tied Lucas to a tree because he called you a cry baby?”
She scowls. “Get out.”
I chuckle all the way to my office, feeling oddly cheerful.
4
Lana
“Do you plan to hire replacements or just keep firing people right, left, and center?” I ask with a frown, my fingers tapping on the desk before me.
Oliver doesn’t glance up from his laptop. “This is one of the worst cases of mismanagement I have ever seen. I can’t even find a decent assistant.”
“I could always hire one for you,” I offer, putting down the last file that contains the last letter of dismissal I have written up.
“Don’t have the time to train one,” the CEO replies, his blue eyes glued to the screen as he studies financials.
I’m pouring through a list of potential employees who have good certifications, but the bastard keeps rejecting them. Annoyance flares as I’m forced to discard yet another Harvard graduate who has an impressive skillset.
“What’s wrong with this one?” I wave the CV in front of Oliver’s face, making him tear his eyes away from what he’s doing. When those blue eyes settle on me, something moves in the pit of my stomach, a sensation that has become oddly familiar over the past few days of working together… or of being forced to.
Lucas tattled to Caleb that I was snarling at his CEO.
