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“For how long?”
“Excuse me?”
“Usually, when I start an assignment, I’m also told the duration.”
“This isn’t a temp job. You’ve been hired to work with me.”
“Oh, I didn’t…”
“It’s not your fault. I’ll deal with Human Resources. I’m in Seattle putting out a fire. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Click.
I pressed the STOP button on my phone recorder and looked around my office. All my hard work and patience had paid off. I jumped up and down doing the h
appy dance in my office. I walked over and sat on my settee, my chairs and touched everything in my office.
I finally sat down in the odd desk chair and sighed. This is perfect. It’s decorated exactly how I would have done it. “Wow, thank you God.” I collected myself and got to work.
Just as I was about to head out to Brockman’s, my phone rang. I picked it up and answered, “Phillippe Marchant’s office.”
“Gabriella.”
Now that I know this is my office, I took the time to really listen to his voice. It was deep and sounded like smooth port wine. “Yes, sir.”
“First of all, it’s Phillippe.”
“Yes, sir. I mean Phillippe.”
“Call James Marshall’s office. His number is in the Contacts on your computer. Let them know we’ll be attending the gala and that I’ll give James the check when I meet with him.”
“Is there anyone else I need to inform about the party?”
“Excuse me?”
“You said us.”
“Crap. Is there a black folder on your desk?”
“No.”
“Go into my office and look on my desk.”
“Hold on.”
I walked over to the sliding wood door across from my desk, and pulled it back. My mouth dropped open again for the second time today. In the almost two years I’ve worked here, I’ve never seen an office like this one. It’s not an office, but a loft. The very masculine scent greeted me at the door…tobacco, musk, leather and something spicy I can’t name.
The walls were the same color black as the ones in my office, but in a flat finish. In the far left corner was a lounge area with a large black leather sofa, a couple of oversized brown leather club chairs, and a large square distressed wood coffee table with a large art book opened to a page on vintage cars. To the left of the door were shiny black bookcases filled with books, albums and a vintage record player.
In the other corner, was a large rectangular dark wood table with eight square black leather and brass chairs around it. Above the table, was a cool vintage light fixture expanding the length of the table. An antique brass open shelving unit was on the wall facing the conference table. On the wall above the shelving unit was a large, round mirror. An incredible plaster and iron sculpture sat on top of the shelving unit.
I stepped inside and the view of San Francisco took my breath away. The wall facing the conference table was floor to ceiling windows…a billionaire’s view. I looked around and finally cast my attention on the large, sleek and shiny black lacquered desk. It looked more like art than a desk. The only things on it were a large Apple iMac, a telephone, a couple of black lacquer trays, and a small tray filled with black Montblanc pens and black old school pencils. The chair seemed out of place in front of the desk. It was black velvet, with a feminine shape to it.
It was clear Phillippe was an art lover. There were interesting pieces accessorizing the space. The large black and white print on the wall behind the desk was my favorite…a pair of hands. It was simple and dramatic. Instead of a light cluttering the desk, there was a cool, bubble bulb chandelier hanging over the desk. Behind the desk was a black vintage credenza with a tray of bottled water, glasses, napkins and three glass canisters…one with mixed nuts, one with black and white M&Ms and one with pretzels. I see Mr. Marchant likes to snack, which explains the identical set up in my office.
I walked up to the desk and inside one of the trays was a black folder with “Gabriella” written on it. I picked up the folder and went back to my office.
“I have it.”
“Do you see an itinerary?”
