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My one eyebrow lifts. “Dare I ask why?”
She shrugs. “No clue. But thank God for small miracles.”
Thank God is right. If I had to endure his grumpiness for any amount of time tonight, I might go off the deep end. His moods give me whiplash, and I’m bound to snap one of these days.
“I’m going in. Have a good night.”
“You, too,” she says, raising her brows.
I knock and wait until he calls out for me to come in.
“How did the afternoon go? Did you get things sorted with the pubs?” He assaults me with questions before I can even make it fully into the room.
So, this is how it’s going to go?
Twenty questions, interrogating me on the job I did, because heaven forbid that the man relinquishes a modicum of control. As if I can’t do the job to his expectations.
I plaster on the largest smile I can muster and jump into the details, hoping it shuts him up.
“I did. Holly is booked withPeople,Elle,Cosmo, andWomen’s Health.”
I focused all my energy on getting all four booked out within the next two months, getting ahead on the job he asked me to make my project for the whole week. He might not be used to people getting shit done, but I’m not those people. I’m a go-getter, and I’m damn good.
“Spencer and Catelyn will team up for a double feature inPeopleandCosmo.I’ve reached out to a few additional publications, and I’m just waiting on their response. I’ll look for some smaller magazines, including online publications, to focus on AlteredX and Icon as well.”
He nods, not looking up from his computer. “Good. Send me a list of all pubs you’ve reached out to.”
My lips slam together, and my teeth grind at his less than impressed response. Now he needs a spreadsheet of who I’ve contacted? “I didn’t realize I was going to be micromanaged.”
He looks up at me, brow furrowed. “I’m not micromanaging, Miss Bennett. I’m asking so I can send Sergio an update. I told him I’d keep him in the loop.”
Shit. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.
My cheeks warm, and I fidget in my seat, wanting to crawl under the desk. I tamper down the embarrassment and dive right into work, hoping the tension dissipates soon.
“What is it you’d like to work on now?”
His jaw ticks, but he eventually looks away from me, eyes back on his computer screen. “I think it’s best if we nail down the ad locations and get some copywriters on board to have the scripts done by this time next week. Holly needs to shoot the commercial before the eighth of May.”
I pull out my phone and check the calendar. Forty-five days as of tomorrow to have this all ironed out and the first commercial shot.
That’s pushing it. Really pushing it. But I won’t say that to Charles.
“When will she be available for more shoots? I’m assuming we’ll roll out a new commercial every ninety days?”
“That sounds about right. She said she could be ready in August.”
“Hmm,” I murmur, thinking things through. “We need a location that can provide four wardrobe changes and be spliced to create multiple ads. To be on the safe side.”
“Very well. Any ideas?” he asks, eyes remaining fixed on his computer.
“I have everything I’ve mocked up on this flash drive if you want to see it,” I say, waving the drive in the air.
He finally looks up and reaches out for the drive.
“Let’s take a look,” he says, motioning for me to move my chair around to sit by him.
My anger prickles.
