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I smiled at her proudly. I had just been hired to work at one of the most successful media firms in the industry.
“MIM,” I grinned. “I’m on the PR team.”
Aleshia’s jaw dropped. “MIM like Matos Image Management? As in CEO Jeremy Matos?”
I nodded.
“Girl, have you met him?” she asked, suddenly swooning. “Whenever I see him online or on TV, I get hot! You know he’s one of New York’s most eligible bachelors!”
I laughed. I, too, had seen the pictures- and he was every bit as gorgeous as Aleshia was making him out to be. The dark blonde hair, blue eyes, and perfectly chiseled jaw were enough to make any woman believe in love at first sight- not to mention the body. He’d had a stint as a pro baseball player and was in the military before rebuilding himself as a mass media mogul. It was easy to see why he was constantly garnering so much female attention.
“I haven’t met him,” I said. “I probably won’t, either. I’m new and not very high up the food chain. He probably only rubs shoulders with the big guns, you know?”
“Well, work your way up because I want to meet him!” she joked, nudging me with her elbow.
Thinking about work, I suddenly remembered that I was facing a transportation complication. “Can I ask a probably dumb question?”
“You can ask me anything!”
I bit my lip awkwardly. “I don’t have a car, obviously- and I don’t really know my way around the city, but I was told when I was hired that there’s a Subway stop near the office. Is there one near here, too?”
“Absolutely! Just right down the road a little, actually. I can walk you down there.”
“That would be great,” I said with a sigh. “Another question, though- is there a schedule? How do I even use the Subway?”
Aleshia looked at me and giggled.
“You know what? Let me grab my coat. We’ll go on a little subway adventure, and I’ll teach you all the ins- and- outs. Who knows? Maybe we can even glimpse the city’s most eligible bachelor there!”
Chapter Two
JEREMY
IftherewasanythingI hated worse than Monday morning traffic, it was lukewarm coffee.
Unfortunately, in my life, the two often came hand-in-hand. No matter how frequently I asked my assistant, Stacey, not to go to the corner shop for my morning coffee until I was already in the building, she always seemed to forget. I’m sure having the coffee already on hand as I entered the door was efficient in her mind. She probably felt it would make my morning run smoother.
Usually, it just set me back.
I carried the cup of cool sludge to my office and dumped it down the sink in my private bathroom.
As annoyed as I was with her constant forgetting, I could never be too upset with her. She had worked for me for a long time and was invaluable in other areas. Together, we ran a tight ship at MIM. She kept my daily schedule flowing, and I was the figurehead responsible for making swift decisions with a seemingly heavy hand.
Stacey was good at ensuring I kept my tough-but-fair reputation working among the staff, always reminding me that pushovers get walked over and the only way to keep the company succeeding was by refusing to back down, even to larger figureheads from larger companies that sought to overtake us in the field.
Stacey was tough and the oldest friend I had. She and her husband had welcomed me with open arms when I first moved to New York after being discharged from the military. I’d served overseas with her, so when I started to build the company up and needed a right hand, I knew she was the woman for the job. She was the true heavy hand of Matos Image Management, and I ensured she was handsomely compensated.
I was merely the brains.
However formidable she was, though, I knew there was a more sensitive side to her. She was a friend before she was a colleague, so despite how annoyed I was at the temperature of my Monday morning cup of joe, I never complained. Always, without fail, I opted instead to quietly make my way to the corner cafe and order myself a fresh cup before the morning meeting.
I stood in line at the coffee shop, listening to the young woman at the counter explain their selection of syrups to an elderly couple in front of me. I kept checking my watch, sensing that I was dangerously close to running out of time.
When they finally moved, I stepped toward the counter to order. “Large, fully caffeinated, two sugars, no cream, please,” I said, barely looking up.
“A man who knows what he likes,” the young woman giggled, moving the card reader across the counter for me to pay. I selected the highest tip option and tapped the chip on the reader, waiting for the beep.”
“You’re Jeremy, right?” she asked. “Jeremy Matos?”
