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I take a sip of my cappuccino and ruminate about my coffee house. I take a few moments to wonder what I would be doing right now. Glancing at the clock, I note I would probably be ordering inventory. I set the cup down, pick up the file and walk over to the copier room. Out of curiosity and eagerness to learn as much as possible, I make an extra copy for myself.
Due to the foot traffic, the incessant ringing of the phone, and the meeting to finalize the sale of the building, I don't get to read the file for some time.
During a lull, I grab another cup of coffee and sit back down to peek into the documents Brando asked me to copy.
To my surprise, they outline a plan to revolutionize the business through green initiatives, making it more environmentally friendly and efficient. One of the documents is a proposal for a foundation that would give back to the community. He wasn’t fibbing yesterday when he told me about it. As I flip through the pages, it becomes clear that it's a solid plan. I wonder why the board and his father are pushing back on it.
It's surprising to see a different side of Brando. I had pegged him as a corporate shark, greedily taking whatever profit he can. However, these documents reveal that he is also looking to contribute to more than his own pocketbook. While his father's company operates with outdated and inefficient processes, Brando's plan aims to bring the business into the twenty-first century. His proposal includes initiatives to eliminate paper waste, introduce electronic processes, make use of artificial intelligence and technology to improve efficiency, and reduce pipeline waste by nearly one hundred percent.
With this document, in one fell swoop, Brando went from being a money-hungry tycoon to a philanthropist. I may have to reconsider how I feel about him.
I reprimand myself. He might be heart-throbbingly handsome, but he’s way too old for me.
As I start conducting research and gathering information that might be useful, thoughts of him swirl through my mind. His proposal to the board reveals a different side of him, and I watch as my initial barriers crumble.
Hold your horses, lady. It’s only your first day.
I discover that the board's main concerns revolve around the viability of the new initiatives and their legal implications. Gathering information related to business law, I organize my research and begin typing. I can’t stop myself from adding an idea for a green initiative I heard some folks in Australia have implemented that allows ordinary citizens to trade alternatively generated energy among themselves using blockchain-based trading systems. It turned out to be wildly lucrative for the firm that put the trading system in place, and it could be just what Brando would want to add to his new project portfolio.
Perhaps there's a straightforward way for Brando to achieve his goals of maintaining profitability, while at the same time moving the company profile toward green energy .
Interrupting my thoughts, the phone rings once again. It feels like the hundredth call of the day.
On the other end is a woman with a sultry voice, asking to speak to Brando. Her curt and borderline rude demeanor tempts me to hang up on her. However, reason prevails, and I put her on hold while I press the intercom button.
“Brando, you have a call. She says it's urgent,” I inform him. The call light remains steady, indicating that he has picked up the line.
“Thanks, Ana,” I sarcastically mimic Brando's voice.
The woman's demeanor on the other end leaves me pondering whether she's a girlfriend or a client, and a strange sensation akin to possessiveness washes over me. I wonder if he has multiple girlfriends. According to Charlotte, he's single. But surely, he must be dating someone. Does he have a preference when it comes to hair color? Blondes, brunettes, or redheads? I imagine the woman on the phone as a brunette.
Why am I even thinking about who he dates? He's not my type. And he’s way too old for me.
I refocus my attention on my research, determined to clear my mind of any thoughts concerning Brando. Whatever this feeling is, I have no intention of acting upon it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Charlotte's gaze on me. I realize that she asked me a question while I was lost in thoughts.
Stop daydreaming!
“I'm sorry, Charlotte. Did you say something?” I inquire, hoping to catch up on what I missed.
“Do you want to grab lunch?” Charlotte chuckles.
“Sure,” I respond, glancing at the clock. It's past one already. My stomach growls loudly, prompting a laugh from Charlotte.
“It appears I'm pretty hungry. Skipped my usual breakfast this morning.”
Charlotte notifies Brando through the intercom about our lunch plans, and we grab our purses before heading to the elevator.
“I know a great restaurant just a block away. It's reasonably priced and has delicious food,” she suggests.
“Sounds perfect,” I reply, taking a moment to send a quick text to Race, updating him on how my first day at the new job is going. He responds with a thumbs-up emoji.
Arriving at the restaurant, we find a booth and order water along with our choice of salads.
“So,” Charlotte begins, “Brando mentioned that you used to own your own business—a coffee house, right?”
“I did. The building was in my family for three generations. It started as a diner. When I inherited it, I transformed it into a coffee shop,” I explain, hearing a hint of nostalgia in my voice.
