by Katie Ashley
“Fuck!” he shouted, the veins in his neck bulging.
“Would you like me to call them for you?” I offered, thinking it was the least I could do given his present state of hysterics.
He scowled at me. I was sure he thought I was coddling him, and men like Thorn refused to be coddled, even in times of emotional distress. “No. I’m fully capable of calling them myself.”
“Yes, I’m sure you are.” I held out the folder. “If you’ll just sign these, I’ll get out of your hair and let you take care of this.”
Thorn snatched a pen out of his suit pocket before jerking the folder from my hands. He made quick work of scribbling his name, and when he finished, he thrust them back at me.
Giving him my most sympathetic smile, I said, “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.”
He gritted his teeth before biting out, “Thank you, Ms. Flannery.”
I nodded then started out of the office, not daring to look back. I was too afraid the part of my conscience that was still working would be horrified by what I’d done.
After I got back to my office, I threw myself into my work. The afternoon hours flew by, and suddenly it was time for dinner. With the end in sight, I pushed on and finally finished shortly before eight.
As I started to leave, a food runner hustled past me. When I glanced back at him, I saw him stop in front of Thorn’s office. Since the lights were still on and he was ordering in, I had a feeling he was going to pull his first corporate all-nighter, and let’s face it: it was way past time for Thorn to actually put in the hours required by his work. Once again, my pesky conscience reared its head, but I quickly let the devil on my shoulder override it.
The next few days passed without any incidents. The IT gods worked their magic and managed to get Thorn’s work back, but he did end up losing a day and a half of work time, which he had to make up by burning the midnight oil.
When I told Mila what I’d done, she high-fived me, and I wasn’t sure what it said about our friendship that she was praising me for underhanded behavior. Of course, it had been her idea in the first place. I supposed I didn’t have the moral fiber I’d thought I did since I’d been so easily swayed over to the dark side.
On Wednesday, things took an unexpected turn. Just before lunch, I went to Thorn’s office to inform him of a call I’d just received. With his head buried in his computer, he didn’t bother looking up at me. “Yes, Ms. Flannery?”
“Mr. Gregson just called to say he took an earlier flight and will be arriving this afternoon.”
Thorn grimaced as he raked his hand through his hair. Ronald Gregson was the prime investor we were courting for The Tailsmen Coccyx Massager. “Of course he would pull one of the oldest tricks in the book—the sneak attack.”
“In spite of that, I assured him we would be ready for the presentation this afternoon.”
“Good.”
“Have you had a chance to review the information the analysts prepared?”
With a shake of his head, Thorn replied, “No, but I’m sure it’s fine.”
My mouth dropped open. “You’re joking, right?”
“No, Ms. Flannery, I’m not. I’m pretty sure the analysts are capable of completing reports clean enough for the investor’s eyes.”
Pretty sure? He was pretty sure the reports were clean. I wondered if he would have gone on a combat mission if he were pretty sure the intelligence was right.
“With all due respect—”
He held up his hand to silence me. “Instead of berating me, would you make yourself useful and go set up the conference room?”
I bit down on my lip to keep from screaming at him, and it took a lot of my willpower not to reach over and choke him. I couldn’t believe how flippant he was being. There was no room for error when it came to client presentations. “Yes, Mr. Callahan,” I replied through gritted teeth.
After marching out of his office, I went straight to the conference room, and it didn’t take long to ensure the laptop was hooked up to the projector. Although I could have walked away then, the perfectionist in me wouldn’t allow it. Thorn might not have cared about going over the files, but I did.
I was halfway through the first set when one of my office buddies, Justine, poked her head in. “Here you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“Sorry. The bastard boss ordered me here to set up for this afternoon’s surprise presentation.”
“I should have figured as much. Anyway, it’s a gorgeous day so Tracey and I are going to grab a sandwich from the food trucks. Wanna come?” Justine asked.
“Nah, I better hang back and finish this up.”
“But it’s not your job to set up for presentations.”
“I know.”
Justine rolled her eyes. “I wish I had your commitment.”
I laughed. “It’s probably more my mania you wished you had than my dedication.”
“Can I bring you something back?”
“Yeah—club on wheat with no mayo.”
She nodded. “Got it.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Once I’d run through the first file, I opened the next. This one was full of research backing up how much the coccyx massager was needed. I clicked on one of the links and seconds later a giant, throbbing cock appeared on the screen in front of me. “Holy shit!” I cried as moaning noises filled the room.
From what I could deduce, the analyst had accidentally typed “cockx” instead of “coccyx”. Normally, one typo wouldn’t be a huge deal, but in this case, it took you to a triple-X porn site featuring giant dicks. God, what a nightmare it would have been if I hadn’t caught it and the investor saw a giant cock.
Hello, light-bulb moment.
I’d said I wouldn’t actively seek ways to sabotage Thorn, and here was a prime example of something just falling into my lap. If I left in the typo, it would serve Thorn right to be embarrassed in front of Gregson for not doing his work. No one would ever know I’d caught the mistake and had the opportunity to change it. I would just sit back and act as horrified as everyone else. Sure, it would hurt the clients if they didn’t get the funding they needed, but that wouldn’t be on my shoulders. It would be on Thorn’s.
Once again, I let the evil side of me override the good.
Chapter Eight: Thorn
I’d like to say the more time that went by in my job, the better acclimated I became, but that wouldn’t be accurate. Regardless of how long I spent evaluating figures and reading files, it never seemed to click. Even when I tried looking at it from a strategy standpoint, it didn’t work. In the end, my frustration led me to half-assing things. No one else seemed to notice it except Isabel. Of course, each time she called me out, I realized how much more she belonged in the position than I did.
With today’s meeting, I had the chance to turn things around. Sure, I had blown off proofreading the analysts’ files, but in my defense, these were Ivy League grads hungry for advancement. They weren’t going to screw up.
When the front desk alerted me that Ronald Gregson had arrived, I walked down to the elevators to meet him. As he stepped out of the elevator car, I threw out my hand. “Mr. Gregson, I’m Thorn Callahan. It’s a pleasure meeting you.”
He smiled. “Nice to meet you as well. Please call me Ron.”
“Sure thing, Ron. Did you have a nice flight?”
“I did. Thankfully, it was smooth skies the entire way here.”
“You’re based in Utah, correct?” It was part of my job to become personally familiar with the investors, and that part I could do easily. “How’s the weather in Salt Lake?”
“Snowing like mad even though it’s almost April.”
I chuckled. “I don’t envy you on that one. Of course, it’s such a beautiful part of the country.”
“Have you visited before?”
“We did some camping there when I was a teenager.”
Mr. Gregson appeared somew
hat surprised by my response. I guess he didn’t imagine a white-collar guy like myself would enjoy roughing it. “You like to camp?”
“I do. It’s been my life for the past decade in my military career.”
Mentioning my military service might have been a little over the top, but I was willing to pull out all the stops to ensure my client got the funding they needed.
Mr. Gregson gave an appreciative nod. “Thank you for your service.”
I smiled. “And thank you for recognizing it.”
When we got to the conference room, Isabel was waiting for us along with two of the analysts who had been working on the project. After introducing everyone, I motioned for Ron to have a seat. With a deep breath, I began walking him through the presentation.
It was all smooth sailing until I got to the portion on the scientific research involving the coccyx bone—though I suppose I should say boner, because that was what suddenly filled the screen before me. My world slowed down to a crawl.
Shaking my head, I tried jolting myself out of the nightmare I suddenly found myself in. How was it possible that there was a giant dick on the screen? Considering the coccyx bone was in your butt, I could have fathomed a bare ass, but a dick? That was totally out of the realm of normalcy, not to mention the groans of pleasure echoing off the walls of the room.
My gaze spun from the screen over to Mr. Gregson. His eyes bulged in horror while his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Of all the clients to assault with the supersized image of a cock, the nice, somewhat uptight Mormon from Utah was the worst one it could have possibly happened to.
I quickly fumbled for the mouse to click off the offending website. When the screen was finally clear, I exhaled a ragged breath. “Mr. Gregson, I’m so terribly sorry,” I croaked.
“What was the meaning of that terribly offensive image?” he demanded, his face blood red.
“I’m so sorry. I would imagine it just comes down to a mix-up.”
“A mix-up? Do you normally experience mix-ups that involve pornography?”
“No, sir, we don’t.”
Mr. Gregson grabbed the handkerchief out of his suit pocket. After dabbing his face, he rose out of his chair. “I don’t need to see any more.”
FUCK. “I’m sure the rest of the presentation is fine, and this was just a minor oversight.”
Ron narrowed his eyes at me. “Can you assure me there is nothing else so offensive?”
Since I hadn’t gone through the files to check them, I couldn’t. Glancing at the analysts, I said, “Can you two?”
With sheepish expressions, they shook their heads. I momentarily closed my eyes in defeat. I also wanted to avoid looking at Isabel. I was sure she was seething because I hadn’t taken the time to check the files like she’d told me to. “Mr. Gregson, while I cannot assure you of the rest of the presentation’s content, I can assure you this is a product worthy of your investment.” When he started to gather up his things, desperation rocketed through my body, and I held up my hand to stop him. “I’ll be happy to run through it without the slides for you.”
Mr. Gregson stared curiously at me. “You want to try to sell me on a multimillion-dollar investment by just telling me about it?”
“I’d like to try—well, that and I’d like to draw it out for you.”
“While everything within me says to walk out of here, my curiosity is piqued by how you can possibly pull this off.”
Inwardly, I did a little victory dance while at the same time panic pricked its way up my spine. While I might’ve sounded confident to Mr. Gregson, I was falling apart on the inside. I motioned to his chair. “Please have a seat.”
After flipping on the lights, I armed myself with a few Expo markers before taking my stance in front of the white board. I put on my game face and started going through everything I knew about the coccyx massager. When I finished, my mouth was dry, and the white board was a mess of multicolored marker ink.
Silence hung heavy in the room. While it seemed like everything had finally clicked into place for me, I wasn’t sure if it had even made sense in the heat of the moment. After capping the marker in my hand, I placed it in my pocket. “So, what do you think?”
Mr. Gregson cleared his throat. “That was very impressive, Mr. Callahan. I’m not sure I’ve seen a presentation like that since the early days before technology took over.”
“I thank you for the compliment. Does The Tailsmen have your support?”
Across the table from me, Isabel leaned forward, anxiously waiting to hear the verdict.
“While I certainly don’t appreciate what happened here earlier, I can’t help but be impressed with the rest of your presentation.”
“Once again, you have my sincerest apologies as well as my word that anything else that comes to you will be triple-checked to ensure there is nothing inappropriate within it.” I narrowed my eyes at the analysts. “I will also be handling the repercussions on our end by changing up the team when we move forward.”
Ron nodded his head. “I will hold you to that.”
I held out my hand. “Do we have a deal?”
“There are some specifics I’d like to fine-tune in pricing and distribution before I sign on the dotted line.”
“I’ll be happy to redraw those figures for you and then go back to the Tailsmen people.”
“Good. Then we have a deal.”
Holy fucking shit. I’d pulled it off. As he shook my hand, I tried not to show my utter and complete disbelief that we actually had his support. “We’re happy you’re on board.”
After taking down some of Gregson’s concerns and running some numbers, we came to an agreement to go back to the Tailsmen people with.
“It’s been nice meeting with you. I’ll head back to the hotel to await the updated information.” When I started toward the door with Ron, I glanced over my shoulder at Isabel. She wore an expression both of disgust and disbelief. I got the impression she wasn’t too thrilled that Ron had given me a second chance. She would have probably preferred I go down in flames because of my carelessness, and the truth was, that’s probably what I deserved.
Chapter Nine: Isabel
ONE WEEK LATER
Apparently, the universe hated me. It was the only explanation I could come up for on how Thorn had managed to save the presentation. When I’d executed my evil plan, I hadn’t known Ron was a devout Mormon. I happened upon that little tidbit shortly before the meeting started when one of the analysts brought in decaffeinated coffee. It was then I realized just how much worse a giant, throbbing cock on the screen was going to be. Cue me as Hannibal from the old 80s TV show The A Team saying, “I love it when a plan comes together.”
Even so, all my hopes were dashed when Thorn somehow managed to pull a Hail Mary with a few Expo markers and a whiteboard. As much as I hated to admit it, I was just as impressed as Gregson with how Thorn explained fairly detailed and intricate information without a digital presentation. He knew the material, and that in itself both ticked me off and impressed me. Damn him. And, of course, he salvaged the deal, although the rumor mill started saying he had been called into Murray’s office for a dressing down.
Today found us doing some last-minute tweaking in preparation for our dinner meeting with George Halliwell. Although it was just a typical business dinner, Thorn appeared exceptionally tense. He kept popping his neck and jerking his hand through his hair. I hated when he did the hair jerk because it made his sandy blond hair look all tousled and sexy like he’d been rolling around in the sheets during a sexathon.
Yes, I utterly despised myself for thinking that.
We’d just hit a tedious part of reviewing the files on the computer when Thorn leaned his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose. “If I’m going to get through the rest of this, I’m going to need some strong coffee.” He stared pointedly at me.
Oh. Hell. No. He was not suggesting I get his coffee.
In a sugary-sweet tone, I replied, �
��I believe I showed you where the break room is last week, but if you’ve forgotten, it’s down the hall and then take two lefts.”
“I want an espresso from Starbucks.”
“Then you’re going to need to take the elevator and go down the block.”
“How much plainer do I need to make this, Ms. Flannery? I want a Venti espresso from Starbucks, and you’re going to get it for me.”
“Well, Mr. Callahan, there are a lot of things I want that I don’t get. That’s just life. Furthermore, I know you’re still new to the workforce, but being a coffee runner is not part of my job description. You have an assistant, AKA a secretary for that, not to mention a Secret Service agent who is outside thumbing through Cosmo.”
His blue eyes narrowed at me. “I never said it was part of your job. However, I do believe it is part of your job description not to be insubordinate to your superior.”
If I had been a cartoon character, this was the moment imaginary steam would have billowed from my ears at Thorn’s audacity. At that moment, I had two choices—my own version of Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken. Fearing for my job, I could bow to Thorn’s will and get his damn coffee, or I could throw caution to the wind and put Mr. Trust Fund Baby in his place. By now, you should know me well enough to know which one I chose. It also didn’t help that I’d caught the end of Nine to Five, one of my all-time favorites, on HBO when I got in from work the night before. Facing down my own version of Franklin Hart, I was going to make Violet, Doralee, and Judy proud.
I jabbed his chest with my index finger. “Look, soldier boy, I know you’re used to barking orders and having your men and women scramble to obey them, but we’re not in Afghanistan anymore, Toto. Now I’m going to walk out of here and tell your secretary you’re about to piss yourself for an espresso.”
While I fully expected Thorn to be enraged by my declaration, I didn’t expect the amused smirk that twisted on his face. “Alice isn’t here.”
“Excuse me?”
