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“No. Don’t give any excuses. Just tell them I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Shit! Good way to start with your new assistant. I sound like a royal bitch. Oh, well. He’ll get used to me.
“Thank you, Matthew. I’ll see you soon.” I click the cell off.
In my experience, people don’t like to hear excuses, no matter the situation. I have no problem with having them wait. They’re there for me, for the company. They need us, so they can wait.
I breeze through the front door, and the secretary greets me with a smile.
I walk toward her. “The Grand Room?”
“To your left.” She points with her head, smiling as if I’m not the first woman to storm through the doors like my ass is on fire.
“Thanks.” I nod with a quick smile.
I rush through the hotel lobby, searching for the room. I spot the gold-plated sign, primp my hair, lift my chin, and walk into the room.
A young man in his early twenties rushes over to me.
“Mrs. Redmon?”
“Miss,” I correct him.
“Miss Redmon, I’m Matthew. It’s so nice to finally meet you. Can I get you a coffee or anything?”
“A coffee would be great.” I smile, nodding at Erica Tate, our regional manager, sitting at the table.
“Here, let me take your luggage,” Matthew says, reaching for the handle.
“Thanks.” I turn to him with my positioned smile.
Poor guy. He’s probably not happy he’ll have to deal with me for the next few months.
“Erica”—I walk over to the table—“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”
“No. No.” She waves her hand. “We were just getting acquainted. Please have a seat.”
“Thank you.” I sit down and look up at the only other person at the table.
My heart stops mid-beat.
My lungs squeeze shut, forbidding air to enter.
Those eyes!
Sweat beads on my skin.
That mouth!
Heat ignites my blood.
It’s him!
“Cassie, this is Brett Daxon, project manager for Daxon Construction,” Erica says.
It all comes rushing back. The night he found me. The pain. The anger. The fear. The reason I left this place. His face brings all those dark memories back.
