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From what I’ve seen, she knows what she’s doing. She’s too controlled to let anything slip.
Everything I see is for show.
Everything.
I can’t forget that.
Mark Cantor, the intern, works on the ninth floor. So after the whistle-stop tour, I lead her over to where he’s sitting.
Normally, the Director of Corporate Giving has this office, but in her absence with Mark picking up the slack, he’s temporarily in here like he owns the place.
He grins behind his bushy beard as we approach and practically knocks the chair down as he hurries over to shake my hand.
“Mr. Foster! Always a pleasant surprise,” he says like the talking golden retriever he is.
Seriously, the kid is such an ass-kisser he’s probably got a lip balm subscription.
I nod at Destiny next to me.
“Mark, this is Destiny Lancaster. She’ll be leading our Young Influencers program and you’ll be working with her. Destiny, meet Mark Cantor.”
Mark transfers his hyperactive handshake to her.
“So nice to meet you!” He smiles at her, charming in an irritating, clean-cut way.
It’s hard to pin down what annoys me most about him when it isn’t his impeccable work record.
Probably the fact that he’s always so eager to please, fawning over anyone he thinks might be able to forward his career. He’s known around here as the bagel boy for showering the office with breakfast and pastries a few times per week.
But he’s a working beak with a bright future, and Destiny smiles back at him, clearly pleased.
“Hi, Mark,” she says warmly, shaking his hand. He blinks a little, probably more dazzled by her than he has any business being. “Apparently, I’m going to be working with you?”
“Yeah! I’m filling in for Rachel,” Mark explains. “Otherwise, you’d be working with her. But I have to say, I’m pumped for the help. I’ve seen your Instagram. Awesome work! Cool dog, too.”
Destiny laughs and eats it right up.
I flatten my hand against my thigh to prevent it from becoming a fist.
Little ass-kisser, and this time it’s an ass he has no business being around.
“Thank you. It’s nice knowing I have any kind of reach. Sometimes, you wonder,” she muses.
“You kidding? You’re on fire.” He waves a hand frantically. “Have you decided on a charity yet for the big prize?”
“Not yet.” Her lips thin thoughtfully. “I definitely want to take my time and make the right choice.” She shoots me a sharp glance, and her lips curl into a humorless smile. “After all, it’s not about the money, but how it’s used.”
“Oh, for sure,” Mark says, desperate to please as always.
“Thanks, Mark,” I say sharply, ready to put this conversation out of its misery. “When you’re working, you’ll be in here with him, Miss Lancaster. The room is big enough to share, I trust.”
“Sure,” she says, glancing around. The office isn’t massive by any means, but it’s perfectly comfortable, and there are two chairs at a large wraparound desk.
Mark smiles at us both. “I’ll make you a space, Dess.”
Brown-nosing prick.
He’s known her for all of sixty seconds and he’s already resorted to nicknames?
