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“Sara!” Lia laughed so hard she snorted something legitimately startling that had us cracking up harder. “Oh God. You need to get out of here or I’m never going to finish this batch,” she wheezed. “And don’t you have your super important meeting with the Perv Bros today?”
“Yes. But I can be a little late. I have to pick up lunch for the meeting from some restaurant in SoHo.”
“And you’re wearing that?” Lia asked, nodding at my outfit.
“Totally,” I said as we both turned around to peek at ourselves in the mirror. We were twins in butter-smudged aprons, our messy topknots stuffed into yellow hairnets to protect the chocolates. If there was anything sexy in the room, it was the chocolate. Next would be the stainless steel fridge. “I brought a change of clothes, obviously.”
“Okay, phew. Then get your cute butt going,” Lia giggled, nudging me toward the door. “And girl, you better kill it ‘cause I’m pissed at Julian on your behalf and I want you to torture him with how hard you bring it for this meeting.”
“Trust me, I’m well prepared, and I have every intention of making it hurt for him today.”
“Atta girl. Is that what that thing is about?” Lia grinned, nodding toward the garment bag I’d hung in her office.
“Mm-hm,” I smirked as I shed my hairnet and apron.
The one bright side of having worked for a magazine was having had access to clothes I’d never dare to buy, and today’s dress most certainly qualified as one of those “I could never” get-ups that I was finally working up the nerve to wear. With it, I was prepared to rock platform heels a full two inches higher than I’d ever walked in, and matte lipstick so lusciously berry-hued that it was almost audible in the way it screamed sex.
On most days, the prospect of wasting my one tube of MAC lipstick, or maybe falling flat on my face was enough to deter me from dressing like this. But today, I had all the motivation to be fearless. In every way – the way I looked, the way I spoke, and the way I commanded a room. I was meeting with the infamous Turner and Carter Roth, but on top of that, I had a gorgeous prick of a boss who talked dirty to me one second and shunned me the next. Irritating to say the least, but nothing I couldn’t get over by simply hitting it out of the park today and leaving him as stunned as he left me yesterday.
With a kiss on Lia’s cheek, I grabbed my bags and said bye, shaking out my hair and heading breezily for the door.
Julian Hoult, today’s swagger is dedicated to you.
9
JULIAN
She was late.
Or at least my definition of late, which was anything but seated five minutes early. Drumming my fingers on the conference table, I glanced at the lacquered dial on my dad’s old Rolex. Fine. It was a whole quarter till noon. She wasn’t late, I was just anxious to see her get in. The Roths were miraculously early for a change and they were already kicked back, tossing a baseball from my desk to and fro while asking about “the assistant.”
“Sara. She looks like a Sara,” Turner decided after asking for her name.
“What does a Sara look like?” Carter asked.
“Brunette. Long legs. Great tits.”
“Gentlemen.” I flashed a look of apology to my office manager of six years, Tori. She was no-nonsense even before getting pregnant. At eight weeks now, she was incapable of entertaining this kind of bullshit. Her lips were pursed as she set the bottles of water down before us, and she said nothing before she exited the room.
“Jesus Christ. She seems fun,” Turner snorted. Because women exist to be fun for you. “My question is who thought it was a good idea to knock her up?”
“I want to buy that guy a beer,” Carter laughed.
“Fuck a beer. Double Scotch is what he needs,” Turner said. “See, that’s the thing about hiring women. You gotta hire them pretty to make it worth it.”
I rapped once on the desk to get their attention. “Don’t talk about my employees like that.”
“Oh… Je-sus. Mr. No Fun right here,” Turner laughed, flashing Carter a look that said yikes.
Eyeing them, I considered calling it quits again, like I did at least once during each of our meetings. But this time, the thought didn’t promptly disappear because I had Sara on my mind. I was quickly regretting putting her in this situation. Considering I could barely stomach the Roths’ idiot misogyny, I had trouble imagining she could. She was the one they’d be staring at, hitting on, touching as much as they could possibly get away with. I could already see all the unnecessary contact – little pinches on her arm, the quick hands on her waist here and there. My lip curled when I pictured Turner eventually escalating it with a hand up her skirt or his hotel key slid in her palm.
I reached for my phone.
ME: Possible change of plans. Call me before you get in.
I sent the text to her before I could think twice about it. I was going to give her an out.
In just the past few seconds, I’d made up my mind on it.
