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CHAPTER 1
SOPHIE
The ticking clock thuds inside my head with every juddering movement of the second hand.Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.And there we go! Six p.m.
I don’t know what’s worse: the fact I’m still stuck in this office even though my contracted hours are clearly stated as eight a.m. to four p.m., the fact that my boss is giving me a lecture about ideas that were mostly mine for a presentation I’m mostly going to have to give, or the fact I’ve been holding this vast stack of papers for almost forty-five minutes and my arms are on fire. At least this is my arm workout for the week.
Still, the most important part of my job — unwritten, of course — is to smile and nod every time Lucas says anything at all. I used to hate it so much, but it was an upgrade from my last office job at a real estate agent’s, so I never used to argue.
These days, I know Lucas a little better, even if he couldn’t tell you three things about me. I know how to pull his strings to get him to agree with me. I’m so good at directing him that he barely even notices, and I don’t even have to raise my voice. That takes a lot of mental energy, though. Which I don’t have today.
It’s late, I’m barely going to get time to sleep, and to be honest I just don’t care. It’s not like I’m going to be doing this for much longer.
“Sophie? What do you think?”
Lucas waves his hand in my face, so close that I can smell the chips he’s been snacking on this whole time. I grit my teeth so I don’t flinch.
“What, sorry?” I ask, doing my best to look sheepish and not annoyed and tired.
He sighs like I’m a naughty child. Somehow, despite only being a year older than me, he makes me feel like I’m about four. It amazes me that anyone thinks he’s attractive. Okay, so he might have an imposing square jaw and broad shoulders that would be huggable on anyone else, but he wouldn’t be making anyone’s “top ten most handsome CEOs” lists if they had to experience his piercing blue eyes looking at them like they were utterly stupid.
“Really?” he says, rolling his eyes. “What do I keep you around for if you’re not going to listen to me?”
A twist of guilt makes me frown. Not that I have anything to be guilty about, not really. It’s just a job that I could not be more sick of, and if I want to apply for something else that I’m going to care about even a tiny bit more, then why shouldn’t I? To be honest, I’d take anything where I could work a normal number of hours a week at this point. Sixty is too many.
For a long time, the pay made the stress and the boss worth it. I used to justify it by hearing Mama’s voice in my head: “Whatever are you going to do with a history degree?” Mr. Adler is generous with his pay, but that’s about it.
The second someone else wants me, I’m out of here. I want a life again.
In that patronizing way he’s so good at, he says, “The presentation tomorrow. What color tie do you think is best? These manufacturers are important to us.”
I open my mouth and close it again. “Blue,” I say, picking a color arbitrarily. So often this is my job — nothing to do with admin or assisting, but more like being a personal handservant to a fussy king who’s never so much as had to wipe his ass by himself. I can’t even drive.
Not thathereally does either. Adler Motors relies on him for business ability and money, not engineering prowess. Which is a good thing, really, because regardless of how shit my job is, he works hard too and he’s damn good at what he does.
“Blue,” he nods thoughtfully. “Excellent. So, to recap. The reps will be here at nine a.m., so I’ll want you here at seven so we can rehearse everything. We need to get this contract or else we’ll have to raise prices. And I don’t need to explain to you how bad that would be.”
“No, sir,” I mumble. Bad for company profits maybe, and other millionaire consumers who want the newest, shiniest car in which to get stuck in New York City traffic. I’m still promised a raise at the end of the year, no matter what happens. If I last that long.
“So, we’ll need that presentation ready to go. I also want you to finish up that packet for the reps — it’s just notes right now; I want it to look real professional, full of all those big words you like to use. Make it look fancy, too. Stylish, sleek — you know the thing. Oh, and maybe add in a Q-and-A too? A quick overview ofthe proposals, the parts, the designs, the future. You can just use my printer for it all. Maybe come in earlier, then, so you’ll have time to get it all set. There’s going to be twenty or so of them, and I want them all to have a packet. Got that?”
I just nod, my head swimming with information, already starting to split it down into a to-do list that’s terrifyingly long.
If I start when I get back — and that’s assuming I can catch the subway straight from here and make my change without too much drama and be back for just after seven p.m. — I can eat while I write and probably be done before three a.m. I’d love at least two hours’ sleep tonight.
Or maybe it’s just time to dig out that sleeping bag I hid in the office the last time we went through this whole charade. Different manufacturers, same old Lucas. In all the years I’ve known him, he hasn’t mellowed at all. If anything, he just keeps on getting grumpier.
“Awesome,” he says, clapping his hands together mirthlessly. Something has to really please Lucas Adler to make him smile. It’s not a sight I’ve seen often. “Let’s get home and get some sleep before the big day then, hmm?”
I force myself to turn the grimace into a polite smile. I swear he thinks work gets done by magic around here. Except the only magic is me and my unfortunate, unwavering dedication to this stupid job. “Good night, sir,” I say as mildly as I can.
He barely looks at me as he pushes past me for the door. “Remember,” he says, glancing back, looking me up and down like he’s just noticed I’m a real person, “we want to impress them. Let’s look our best, okay?”
Without another word, he flaunts out the door, leaving me with the sinking feeling of a long night and the uneasy knowledge that he doesn’t think I look the part to sell our pitch, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Guess I’m not thin and blonde and botoxed enough for him.
Finally alone, I sigh and throw the pile of files down onto the desk, shaking out my aching arms. Thank goodness I have a spare pantsuit and a random toiletries bag kicking around here somewhere too. This isn’t the first time he’s done this to me.
As I settle down for a long night of work in the office, I am sure of one thing at least. This will be the last.
