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Cole raises a single eyebrow.
“I trust that our interests are aligned,” he says.
I hesitate. What he’s saying sounds simple. But the problem is, I know how this starts. Someone in another department asks me for a favor. I give him one favor, then another. Then before I know it, I have a broken heart and an exercise bike in my apartment.
Not that Cole’s interested inthatsince he basically just called the idea of sex with me “terrifying.” But I can already tell he’s sharper and more determined than my ex ever was. I have a feeling that once I say yes to Cole, it will be a slippery slope to somewhere I don’t want to go.
You left the old Amelia behind for a reason, I tell myself.This time, you won’t get guilted into doing extra credit that never gets rewarded. This time, you have to know your worth.
“What’s holding you back, Amelia?” Cole asks quietly. Smoothly. And in that moment, the cranky businessman from this morning is entirely gone. In his place is a powerful man who probably closed hundreds of deals before he turned thirty.
I kind of miss the grumpy businessman. At least he was honest.
“Amelia,” he prompts, exasperation creeping in at the edge of his tone, and there’s enough of the real Cole in there that I relax.
Not that I know the real Cole. Obviously.
His scowl is creeping back into place, so I rush out my answer.
“I don’t want to lose this job. But I also don’t want to sign up for endless unpaid overtime, just because I made one tiny mistake on my first day.”
“You thought I was a serial killer,” Cole deadpans.
“The point stands,” I insist.
Cole studies me, so I study him right back. I feel like I’m out on a ledge. I’venevertold a boss no.
Much less a boss like Cole. His eyes might be the most intense thing I’ve ever seen. Which is weird. They’re just eyes, right?
I’m about to blink when he leans back, crossing his arms.
“Fine. We’ll limit it toonefavor. Most of this project will happen in the next week. But I may request small additions over the next two months.”
That means he’s preparing this secret project for something that will happen in two months. I know I should nod and keep my mouth closed. Maybe I could, with someone else. But I’m weirdly curious about this man. “What happens in two months?”
“None of your business,” Cole says.
Fine. If he doesn’t want to tell me, I’ll just ask the other graphic designers.
I stand up to go. I need to think. And I can’t seem to think clearly in his presence.
“I didn’t say you could go,” Cole says, and myGodthe man is arrogant.
I turn back to him and raise my chin. “You know the thing about mutual interest, Cole? It’s mutual. You need me. At least for the next two months.”
He stands, looking all powerful and business-y behind his desk. My stomach only flips a little bit. Every time I push back against him, I keep waiting to find out ifthisis it. The moment of impudence he won’t forgive.
But instead of yelling at me, or firing me, Cole looks at me approvingly.
That look sends a jolt of adrenaline up my spine.
“Does that mean you’ll do it?” Cole asks.
“It means I’ll think about it,” I say.
And then I leave Cole Ashford’s office, trying to ignore the sense that I’m playing with fire.
It takesme approximately five minutes of asking around to figure out what’s happening in two months. The Ashford Marketing board meeting.
