Get your head in the game, Julia del Mar.
I straightened my back, determined to fight off the debilitating effects of those gleaming teeth and perfectly pink lips. I had to remember this niceness was probably his way of getting us to let our guard down. He was here to find ways to cut jobs. I was not about to mouth off and get myself fired, but I needed to get some things clear.
“Look.” I was proud of myself for not rolling my neck or pointing at his face. “I know you’re trying to be nice, but you make me nervous.” I pulled on the hem of my blue polka-dot dress and smoothed my yellow cardigan, avoiding eye contact at all costs.
“Why do I make you nervous?”
Uh, maybe because you’re here to close down as much of the foundation as you can.
I refrained from actually saying that because I had not been raised by a Puerto Rican man and Dominican woman just so I could act like I had no home training with the guy who could get me fired. But it was a close call.
“I’m sorry for saying that. You don’t make me nervous.”
Lies.
Rocco Quinn didn’t just make me nervous. He made me want to run my hands all over that big-ass body and moon over his almost but not quite curly hair and blue eyes, in spite of the fact that I knew he was out here gunning for my entire program. And yet, I still wanted to kiss the hell out of him while I climbed him like a sequoia.
Enough.
I cleared my throat, while he looked at me like he was trying to read my mind. Jesus, I’d probably just jumped up like ten spots on his list of people to fire. In an effort to calm myself down, I looked down at my cream and navy blue Mary Janes and resisted the urge of tapping the heels to see if I could Dorothy my way out of this mess. When I looked back up, he was still looking at me expectantly, like he was watching his favorite telenovela and could not wait to see what bananas plot twist was coming next.
I jerked a thumb over my shoulder, still flustered but powering through. “I have to go see my boss.” Nod. Smile. Eye contact. “Have a good day, Mr. Quinn.” There was no way I was calling him Rocco.
I stepped into the large conference room thinking that little interlude could not have gone more perfectly terrible, and made my way to Gail, who was sitting on her own at one end of the table.
As soon as I reached her, I knew shit was worse than I’d thought. Gail’s usual calm demeanor was gone and she looked full-on frazzled.
“Hey, sorry it took me so long to get up here,” I said as I sat down next to her, trying to figure out what were all the papers strewn around the table.
Gail usually wore some colorful tops and slacks to work, but today she was in a very solemn slate pantsuit and blue oxford shirt.
“I just met with the executive team.” She closed her eyes as she spoke and pushed her fingers into the space between her eyebrows, as if trying to fend off a tension headache. This was a woman who meditated during lunch every day.
This could not be good.
“Okay.”
She sighed, and opened her eyes. She looked exhausted and it was barely noon. “Basically all our programs are being looked at closely and some will get cut.” A hole opened in my stomach and I had to force myself to speak calmly.
“What does that mean?”
Gail ran a hand over her white hair. Her carefully styled pixie cut was a bit in disarray today.
“For now, it means that we need to make sure we show the consultants why our programs are important.” She scowled at whatever popped into her head and looked to the conference room door, expectantly. “The twins are not happy about this and they will fight like hell to keep everything going. Davidson’s, this firm they’ve brought in, has a good reputation and it’s known for making transitions that don’t steamroll the company’s values. Still, they’re here to do a job.” She lifted her hands like that could placate the panic that was probably written all over my face.
I was too freaked out to answer so I took a moment to mull over the information Gail had just thrown at me. The Twins were Mitzy and Muffy Sturm, the granddaughters of the founder of the company and two of the three majority owners. They had been the ones who’d, after watching the news and what was happening to children at the border, had come to Gail and expressed their desire to fund a program for immigrant and refugee children. Gail had come up with a trauma-informed after-school program for middle and high school kids and a trauma-specialized counseling center for families. I’d been hired to develop and run the after-school program.
Gail cleared her throat and I braced for whatever she was going to say. “But Mitzy and Muffy are not the only ones who get a say.” I knew there was another sibling, but he was sort of a mystery to me. “Their younger brother, Duke, is the one behind the push to go public, and he does not seem to have any use for the foundation, much less new initiatives costing the company millions. He’s the one who pushed for hiring the consulting firm.”
Bile rose up my throat when I thought of how messy I’d been with Rocco. Fuck.
“We’ve barely started the semester. Where does this leave us?”
I’d arrived in Dallas in late spring in order to set up the program for the start of the school year. It had taken an enormous amount of work to get everything ready, but we’d managed. Gail had been a huge driver in that effort. She was not one to cower in front of a challenge and at my question, the woman who I’d grown to admire and respect in the six months we’d been working together was suddenly in front of me.
“We show them we’re too important to cut.”
I nodded woodenly, definitely not feeling as fired up as Gail. It didn’t help that she gulped for whatever she was saying next. Whatever was coming was some bullshit, but before she had a chance to say it there was knock on the conference room door. Gail’s back went up and my stomach dropped somewhere around my Mary Janes. This would not be good.
I turned around to catch my elevator buddy poking his head in with a big smile on his face. All of a sudden this asshole was all teeth. “Are you ready for me?”
“Yes, of course.” Gail’s voice sounded mad fake as she waved him over.
I shot a look at her, certain that whatever she didn’t get to tell me had everything to do with the fact that this gorgeous, oversized motherfucker was sauntering over to us, looking like poorly dressed perfection.
I stood up and knocked over a can of Diet Coke, hitting my elbow on the table so hard I belted out a curse. As I stood there rubbing my injured limb, I realized Gail had stayed in her seat and was looking at me like she might have seriously misjudged my ability to be helpful in this situation.
“Julia.” I had no idea how Gail could pack so much warning and encouragement into one word, but I had to admit, I was impressed. “Part of what the executive board has asked for is that we fill Mr. Quinn and his team in on the work our programs do.”
I didn’t really fully panic until I saw Gail doing Vanna White hands between me and Rocco. I opened my mouth to say something but Gail started talking before I put my whole foot in my mouth.
“Rocco, Julia will be showing you around our programs over the next few weeks. She’s the best person to do it, since she developed our new after-school program and clinic. I believe those are the areas of most interest to Mr. Sturm.”
No wonder Gail was stressed out.
I turned to Rocco and flashed him my best attempt at a smile as I very quickly tried to roll with the bomb Gail had just dropped on me.
“I’ll be happy to fill you in on whatever you need to know.” I glanced over at my boss, who was starting to look a little pale.
He dipped his head, with that smirk that I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to kiss or bite off his face. Either way, teeth would be involved.
“Excellent.”
I managed to produce a nod and some upward movement of my lips.
“Sure,” I choked out
as he beamed at me.
The programs, the funding, and my job now depended on me not fucking this up. On me not making a fool of myself with this man, whose mere presence made me act like a full-on wreck.
Forget before, this was perfectly terrible.
Chapter Two
Rocco
Julia Ortiz was throwing me off my game. Just my luck to finally take a project out of the Tristate area and I land in a place that was literally crawling with New Yorkers.
One of them in particular was bringing me to distraction a lot more than was advisable. Julia was a Queens girl through and through—and a diversion I could not afford. Her flawless skin was like a beacon every time I saw her around the office. It was like the woman walked around with the access code to all of my fucking buttons. My plans to be the hard-ass on this job had been utterly blown out of the water once I learned I’d be working with her.
It wasn’t like she’d given me any reason to think I had a shot with her. Julia knew I was the enemy and she treated me as such. The look on her face when her boss told her she’d have to show me her programs was acidic enough to melt the paint off the conference room wall. She’d twisted her mouth to the side and narrowed those gorgeous brown eyes, looking just a little bit murderous. I couldn’t blame her either. I was here to disrupt her life and possibly shut down her job and the entire fucking foundation.
It was what I’d been sent here to do.
Sure, we could pretend I was “assessing,” but the truth was that even though technically we’d been hired by all three Sturm siblings, Duke Sturm and the board brought in Davidson and Partners for one reason: to get this company ready to go public.
My promotion and more depended on making sure it happened. No matter what Julia Ortiz’s luscious ass and full mouth did to me, there was too much riding on this for me to fuck it up. There was just too much depending on this for the firm and for me to let my head get turned by a woman who looked like she could barely stand the sight of me. The only sensible thing to do was to focus on my work and keep my thoughts as far away from Julia’s curves as possible.
I looked at my monitor and saw there were two new emails. One was from Julia, probably to arrange times for me to go see the programs. Instead of opening it like I was dying to, I ignored it. Nothing good could come of giving in to my urges when it came to this woman. Instead I clicked on the email from Tariq Ozuna, one of my team members, who was usually distracting in ways that wouldn’t get me fired. It was a forwarded evite and the subject line was “Gotham Exiles Club.” It looked like it was for some kind of happy hour.
The title of the meetup was a little extra, but I could use a drink and some time with people who took the edge off the homesickness I’d been feeling since I’d been in Dallas. Before I got a chance to look at the link to the event, I heard the staccato of killer heels coming down the hallway to my office, and prepared for the incoming barrage of “y’alls” and “sweethearts” headed my way.
“Oh, Muffy, he’s still here.”
As soon as I heard the Southern drawl of two of my new bosses, I turned my chair around to face them. Mitzy and Muffy, two-thirds of the Sturm empire.
“Ladies, how can I help you?” I stood up to greet them as they made their way into my office. I didn’t have to fake a friendly smile with Mitzy and Muffy. Even though they were not on board with the plan to go public, they’d been nothing but kind to me.
I extended a hand to the leather club chairs in front of my desk. “Please take a seat.” Without a word, they both sat down, their movements almost identical. I showed my teeth in what I hoped was a smile and smothered any thoughts related to Julia, happy hours, or anything that could interfere with me getting this job done.
“Thanks goodness we caught you. We just wanted to check on a couple of things now that you’ve connected with Gail at the foundation.” I could tell they were going with the “kill ’em with kindness” tactic. I didn’t doubt they were sincere, but they were also going way out of their way for these check-ins, when nothing had happened yet. But between them and their asshole brother, I’d pick them any day.
“Anything you need,” I said, with a dip of my head, smile still very much firmly in place.
* * *
Mitzy and Muffy were an interesting pair. They were both “bachelorettes” in their mid-fifties, and nothing about these two women could ever be called average. For one, they were always wearing clothes I’d only ever seen in high-fashion magazines. But what made everything just a bit on the surreal side was that they almost always dressed in different shades of the same color. Mitzy always wore skirts and dresses, hair styled in a short bob that reminded me of that famous fashion lady who ran the Met Gala. Muffy on the other hand went for bespoke pantsuits, her silver hair cut in a no-nonsense crew cut.
Today was apparently blue day. Mitzy was wearing a long skirt in like ten shades of dark blue, and a denim top, and Muffy was in one of her trademark pantsuits, this one navy. I tried not to stare for too long, and waited for them to get on with whatever it was they were here for. So far they seemed set on bringing me over to their side. I would be staying on whatever side got me a promotion and back to New York City at the end of this job.
“Did things go well with the program director?”
The twitch in my eye at the mere mention of Julia was going to be a real fucking problem. “Things went well. We have to hammer out the details, but I should be able to get a sense for the work the foundation does. Mind you, I am not the last word on any on this.” I tried to smooth out any trace of an edge in my voice as I spoke. I could stay on task without being rude. And besides, though the twins and I could’ve been from different planets, I liked them.
I appreciated how invested they were in their company and their people. It was clear Mitzy and Muffy felt a lot of pride in the fact that Sturm’s was a family-owned business; they took that “family” thing seriously. From the first day, they’d been worried about how I was getting on and made sure I got everything my team needed. I was a New Yorker and by nature assumed anyone being nice was up to something, but my spidey senses kept telling me these two were the real deal.
I cleared my throat as they both waited for me to get to the point. “We make recommendations, the board and you decide what stays and what goes.”
“Right.” Muffy rolled her eyes as she crossed her legs into a pose identical to her sister. “We just wanted to make sure things were on track. We know you’re thankfully not in Duke’s pockets.”
I swallowed hard at that. I wasn’t in anyone’s pockets, that was true, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have me by the balls.
Mitzy nodded at what her sister had said and gave me an angelic smile that rivaled the one my two-year-old niece gave me when she wanted a treat. “We also wanted to hear if Phil talked to you about that little thing he seems so worried about.” She said “Phil” like she’d just bitten into something sour, and I couldn’t say I blamed her.
As far as I could tell Phil Brentwood, their CFO, was a bully with a short fuse. “The little thing” was his hard-on for doing away with anything that could put the IPO plans in jeopardy. He couldn’t care less about the foundation and would be thrilled to see it shut down.
My stomach roiled as it hit me, again, the shitty position I was in. I had the people who hired me pulling me in two different directions. No matter what my team and I ended up recommending, one side wasn’t going to be happy. And again I reminded myself the only thing I was here to do was get that IPO off the ground, not make friends in Dallas high society.
Despite the stress I was feeling, I had to smile at the twins. They looked so innocent waiting for me to spill my guts. They could play the “we’re just clueless Southern belles,” but these two were sharks. Sturm’s was already a big name when they took over after their father died fifteen years ago. But since then, the twins had done for Sturm’s what Marc Jac
obs did for Louis Vuitton. They turned it into a brand that people associated with luxury, but made it accessible. Sturm’s commitment to social justice causes was one of the things that made it appealing to millennials.
Their foundation—which the twins had tripled in size since they took over—had supported hundreds of first-generation college students. And recently they’d sponsored multiple LGBT+ and PoC political candidates to run for office. Those efforts made them unique in the world of high-end retail, and the twins were right to want to protect that side of their business.
“I’ve spoken to Phil,” I confirmed, and waited for whatever it was they were actually here to say.
Muffy spoke this time and, like her sister, she was treating me with kid gloves. “Rocco, we have appreciated how you’ve come into the company and worked on getting to know all the players. That is one of the reasons we agreed to work with your firm. You have a reputation of really trying to understand the culture and values of the businesses you’re working with.”
She was right. The way Davidson’s worked was by immersing ourselves in the company before we made a single suggestion. The firm built rapport and gained the trust of the company and staff first, so the sometimes-drastic adjustments that needed to be made before a public offering could go smoothly.
It sounded a lot more heartwarming than it was. It was all calculated and strategic and we were not actually supposed to start liking the people we were working for. We just needed to get them malleable enough to achieve our goals.
Part of that was reassuring them their priorities were being considered. “Of course. I know your foundation programs are important, which is why I’m taking the time to see them myself.”
And the fact that Julia will be my guide has nothing to do with my motives.
Muffy leaned in as if to drive in the point she was about to make. “Sturm’s is known for having a robust and innovative charitable arm. It’s part of the brand.” She leaned in and winked at me like she was about to let me on a secret. “Rich people can feel good about spending money here because they know a lot of it goes to a good cause. That’s why we have more exclusive lines with the hottest designers in the industry than any other luxury department store. People spend fortunes here because of our mission.”
Here to Stay Page 2
