Crazy for the Boss (Crazy in Love Book 1)

by Ashlee Mallory

  James Thornhill II. Seriously? Could he be more pompous?

  Heaving a sigh, she pushed the numbers in and waited for the dial tone.

  He answered almost immediately. “James Thornhill.”

  She rolled her eyes. Really? Who answered like that? “Yes, Mr. Thornhill. It’s Quinn Taylor. I was calling to talk to you about your job offer.”

  “Ah, Ms. Taylor. Glad to hear you’ve been giving my offer some consideration.” There was definitely an edge of humor in his voice. “Did you call to see what the profit-sharing plan entailed?”

  “That’s not what I’m interested in hearing about right now, no. I actually have a counter offer for you.”

  “Of course you do.”

  “I understand that, technically, the settlement terms have already been agreed to, and as Dennis Monson and your cousin were adamant that Lauralee Bishop would not be rehired, this item wasn’t discussed today. However, Lauralee was a loyal and dedicated manager for six years, with only glowing reports and positive annual evaluations up until the time she was fired.”

  “I remember her. She was fired for absenteeism. She’d missed seventy-five percent of her shifts in the last month of her employment if I recall correctly.”

  Quinn’s grip on the phone tightened. She was still angry as she remembered Dennis’s smug recital of the same information. “Yes, that’s never been denied. However, if you’ve read our briefs and the medical documentation, you also probably now know that two months before that, Lauralee’s ex-husband sexually assaulted her and then beat the crap out of her so badly that she had to be hospitalized. Yes,” she added before he might make Dennis’s same old argument, “at the time she returned to work at the restaurant, she’d been physically cleared for work. But unbeknownst to her, Lauralee was suffering from PTSD, something that, had she been properly diagnosed and treated for, would have entitled her to some accommodations to her schedule, and her job would have been protected.”

  Facts that had drawn Quinn to the case in the first place, based on her own familiarity with mental health and accommodations in the workplace.

  “I agree with you,” James said. “Which is part of why I authorized the settlement today.”

  Now or never. “Then I’d like you to give her a second chance.”

  Silence.

  “You’re asking me to give Lauralee her job back?”

  “I am.”

  There was a long pause. “I think I could probably swing that. I can call HR tomorrow and have them get started on the paperwork. Along with your own employment contract?” he added, his tone hopeful.

  “There’s one more thing. I’d like the company to offer an employee-assistance plan to all employees. It’s an insurance program of sorts, a short-term counseling service for your employees who might be struggling with dependency and mental health issues. It’s a simple plan that, had it been available to managers like Lauralee, would have helped her in finding the right medical provider and obtaining the right diagnosis and counseling that might have prevented the excessive absenteeism that led to her termination.”

  “That’s a tall order. But…I think we could probably make it work.”

  Wow. That was easy. Too easy. “What kind of assurance do I have that you’ll honor this agreement?” she asked skeptically.

  He chuckled. “You’ll just have to take me at my word. However, although I’m open to offering this employee reemployment—that is, if she’s still interested—if for some reason she isn’t able to perform her duties, the company still reserves the right, after your counsel, of course, to terminate her employment. Will that be acceptable?”

  “Of course. As much as I may disapprove of how some of your company’s managers’—”

  “Actually, if you are coming on board, you need to remember that they’re ‘our’ managers,” he added cheekily.

  She gritted her teeth. “As much as I might disapprove of some of our managers’ business decisions, I wouldn’t want to reward poor-performing employees at the cost of other hard-working employees who are expecting the company to do the right thing.”

  “So does this mean you’re accepting my offer?” he asked entirely too cheerfully.

  Oh, Lord help her. She was going to do it.

  “I suppose it does,” she said in a voice that sounded of defeat.

  “Well, cheer up. I’ll be sure to have my assistant send you a state-of-the-art fruit-and-cookie basket on your first day.”

  “Great. But I’m going to need to give at least two weeks’ notice at my current job.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything else. I’ll have my assistant call you tomorrow to schedule a time for you to come in and talk to our HR and Payroll Department. They’ll be able to give you more details about the offer. I’ll give a call to Dennis, our general counsel, as well, to get started on drafting up your employment contract.”

  “He doesn’t know?”

  “He will.”

  She paused, not having previously considered this prospect. “Under this arrangement, since I’ll be joining the legal department, does this mean I’ll be reporting to Dennis?”

  This was make-or-break. She couldn’t possibly work in a place where that man had any control over what she did or didn’t do.

  “Hardly. No, you’ll be reporting to me. No worries.”

  With that settled, Quinn’s shoulders relaxed some of their tension. A smile crept across her face at the prospect of seeing Dennis’s face when Lauralee, who he’d refused to consider rehiring up to now, was rehired under James’s direction. “Okay. I guess we’ll be in touch.”

  “We most definitely will.”

  Chapter 4

  On a bright and unusually sunny day for mid-November in San Francisco, Quinn walked up to the front entrance at Thornhill Management and stared, trying to still the lingering doubts plaguing her mind that she’d made a mistake. That she’d sold out to the other side. The Dark Side.

  Well, the contract had been signed and her other job was in the process of being filled, so she’d better just come to terms that this was where she’d thrown her lot for the next year of her life, at least.

  A few minutes after stepping onto the twenty-ninth floor—apparently Thornhill Management filled three of the top floors of the office building—a tiny nymph of a woman with a pixie haircut and wide smile who identified herself as Jeannie arrived at the front desk.

  “I help Dennis with the leases and landlord issues for our restaurants, type up contracts and memos, that sort of thing,” she explained as she led Quinn down the hall. “I’ll be assisting you now, as well, so don’t hesitate to ask me for any help. In the meantime, let me show you around.”

  By the time Quinn was shown her office, she could barely remember half of the names of the people she’d been introduced to, and was looking forward to a little sanctuary from the curious gazes.

  “Like I said, I sit right over there, so let me know if you need anything,” Jeannie said.

  “I will. Thank you, Jeannie.” She watched the woman walk away before returning her gaze to her office, not quite moving. The office was not only twice the size of the conference room that she’d worked out of at Meiers and Rooney, but with the large windows, she was provided a stunning view outside at the financial district. She might have gasped as she drew near.

  How did anyone ever do any work with that view?

  Fighting the urge to take a video of the place with her iPhone to send to Anna and Tessa, Quinn began unpacking the few things she’d brought for her first day. She glanced at the walls covered with gorgeous artwork and was glad she’d decided not to bring her poster print of a field of poppies since it would have been sadly out of place. Her ceramic turtle with the hidden compartment in the underbelly filled with her stash of peanut butter M&M’s she had no similar compunction about as she set it reverently on the corner of the desk. She was just about to steal a couple of the candies when there was a knock on her door, and she whipped around guiltily.


  James Thornhill II in the flesh.

  And looking impeccable and dashing in a black tailored suit and a crisp lavender shirt that he somehow pulled off—and quite well. As he no doubt knew.

  “I trust you’re finding everything you need?”

  “So far so good. Jeannie already showed me the supply room and the break room, so that’s a good start.”

  “Good. Very good.” Only, now, as he drew nearer, she could see that he didn’t appear quite as polished as she’d thought. Tired might best describe him. Distracted as he rubbed his jaw that was peppered with a few days’ worth of growth. “Actually, if you had a minute, I was hoping I could have you review something for me. It’s some paperwork that Blossom Brew sent over last night.”

  “You want me to review it?” she asked. He nodded. “Um, sure, I’d be happy to, but you should know. Contracts and franchise agreements aren’t exactly my forte, so I don’t know what my opinion will be worth.”

  “Dennis has already looked them over, of course, but I thought another set of eyes wouldn’t hurt. And you are part of our executive team now, so it might give you some idea of what we’re doing.”

  With a last glance at her personal things, she followed James down to the end of the hall where they stopped at a large corner office. Three entire freaking floors and she was practically neighbors with the spawn of Satan?

  Wait. She had to stop thinking like that. She worked with him now.

  After a quick introduction to James’s secretary and personal assistant, Pauline—an older lady with shrewd eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor—Quinn followed him inside. She took a seat in a leather chair across from his desk, trying not to gape out at the view over the bay that his corner office provided.

  He handed her a few pieces of paper, and she skimmed through, trying to familiarize herself with some of the terms all while very aware of James, standing silently with his back to her as he stared out the windows.

  Something didn’t seem quite right. She read it again.

  “I don’t think this clause here is correct. As it reads currently, the duration of this subsection could continue into perpetuity. It needs to be more close-ended.”

  He turned around, scanning his desk for a moment before grabbing a pen. “Here, why don’t you just take down your notes and I’ll have Dennis take another look. In fact”—he paused—“later today, Dennis and I are heading to Chicago for a meeting with the folks from Blossom Brew. What would you say about tagging along? I think it might be helpful to have your perspective on things.”

  Just up and take off to Chicago? Just like that?

  “Today?” she asked, just to be certain.

  “Sure. Our plane takes off at ten and we could wrap things up and be back around dinnertime.”

  Our plane? She hoped her eyes hadn’t bugged out at this last bit. As a daughter of a coal miner from a small town in northern Idaho, she could count the number of times she’d flown on any airplane on one hand. She’d found it more economical to drive back and forth between her hometown and college over the years. And here he was actually proposing they just jet off to Chicago in their own plane?

  But she could play it cool. “I guess Chicago it is.”

  “Great. Why don’t you hold on to that,” he said, nodding toward the contract still in her hand, “look it over, and then get it back to me. I have you scheduled to meet with some of our top executives this week. Also, Paul Jansen will be taking you out to a few of our restaurants to get a feel for our operations, have you meet a few of the managers.”

  She knew Paul well after conducting his deposition. Quite well, and she had to admit the prospect of a tour with the man sounded somewhat…challenging. But she could adapt. She’d worked with less cooperative people before.

  She nodded and headed back to her office, making a mental list of all the things she had to do before they left for Chicago, not to mention the rest of the week.

  Update the employee manual for the more than five thousand current employees.

  Start a new employee newsletter.

  Begin scheduling management training for the more than eight hundred managers of the company’s various restaurants and locations.

  Squeeze in some time to read up on contract and property law.

  Instead of feeling overwhelmed by the quickly growing list, however, Quinn had to admit to feeling a jolt of adrenaline rushing through her. This was action, direct action that she would initiate.

  That was what she was telling herself twenty minutes later when James’s secretary, Pauline, knocked curtly on her door. “Mr. Thornhill thought you might want to review these before this afternoon’s meeting.”

  These being a four-inch stack of documents that the woman set on the middle of the desk before heading right back out.

  “Great,” Quinn said a little less enthusiastically.

  She waited a moment to peer out through the glass walls of her office to see if anyone was looking and, the coast clear, pulled off the turtle’s shell to grab a handful of M&M’s. Now all she needed was a six-pack of Coke Zero and she’d be ready to push on through. It would be just like back in law school, cramming before an exam.

  Tossing a handful into her mouth, she went off to the break room with pocket change to see what she could find.

  James had been studying the latest quarterly projections when he sensed someone watching him from the door. He glanced up to find piercing blue eyes much like his own studying him from a weathered but strong-featured face that still managed to be handsome and refined despite his seventy-one years.

  Cyrus Thornhill. His grandfather.

  Did he ever not appear as if he was judging James? And finding him wanting?

  “Sir. Come in,” he said even though the old man was already stepping in, looking round the space.

  “I see you’ve made yourself comfortable. I also saw Pauline earlier. Good to see that you didn’t try to shake everything up by replacing her.”

  “Not even possible. Pauline knows everything about this place and could probably run it better than anyone.”

  Cyrus didn’t bother to reply. It had been three weeks since James had seen his grandfather. Back on that day when he’d been summoned to the emergency board meeting where the board voted to fire Neil and hire James in his place.

  It had been the last thing in the world James had ever expected. Not because he didn’t believe he was qualified. If anything, he couldn’t think of anyone more qualified for the position. But the last time he’d been anywhere near Thornhill’s base of operations had been nine years before, when he’d been similarly summoned. Only that time his grandfather had berated him for refusing a management position at one of the company’s restaurants, something that, at the time, just seemed…boring. Unexciting. And worse…expected.

  Instead, he and some buddies had ideas of opening a new venture capital firm and were heading to LA to give it a go. Two failed attempts and a few years later, they’d been successful. Wildly successful.

  Not that his grandfather had cared. He’d taken James’s decision as a rejection of not just his business but his life. To say things had been strained the few times they’d seen each other at big family events was to put it mildly.

  “So you’re set on this whole Blossom Brew deal, huh? Even though taking on something like this in this economy could be the death of the company?”

  “I am. But like I mentioned in my initial proposal that I sent to you a few weeks ago, I think this is just the kind of change-up that Thornhill needs. It will breathe fresh life into the company, bring in a younger demographic of customers.”

  Cyrus grunted. “Well, don’t forget that your appointment as CEO wasn’t unanimous, and there are still a few members of the board who are loyal to Neil and would love any reason to kick you right back on your ass. Everyone’s looking for a leader. So you’d better deliver.”

  This wasn’t said warmly and James would have been surprised if it had. His grandfather had never been a
demonstrably loving man, not even when James was a mere three years old and sent to live with him after his parents died in a tragic boating accident. As James had heard it, his own father had been very much a disappointment to Cyrus, and he didn’t have much higher expectations for his grandson.

  Not that this had stopped James from trying to earn the man’s love in his earlier years, or his respect years later.

  So he’d stopped trying. Especially in his college years when, away from Cyrus’s direct control and direction, James had decided to enjoy the benefits that having a trust fund he’d come into on his eighteenth birthday afforded him. It had been freeing.

  And after all these years of being away, standing here again felt like he’d gone back in time to when he was a ten-year-old kid who only wanted his grandfather to tell him he believed in him.

  That would never come. James knew this.

  “I’ll do my best. In fact, the legal department and I are flying to Chicago shortly to meet with the Blossom Brew group.”

  His grandfather guffawed. “Legal department. Once upon a time, a general counsel was good enough for this company. Employment counsel? Never heard of such a thing. Just be sure you don’t let the gal cut you off at the knees. Our managers and our employees need to know that some rules don’t change. They do their job or they’re out of here.”

  “That won’t be a problem. In fact, freeing up Dennis’s time from issues such as labor violations and employment law complaints will permit him to focus on more pressing contracts, like licensing and landlord matters, which are only going to pick up. Especially if we’re going to be scouting out locations for the first ten coffee shops I’d like to open in the next year.”

  “Just see that this gal doesn’t overstep herself.”

  Cyrus headed back to the door, stopping short as they both realized that Quinn was already standing there, looking red-faced and mortified. “I’m sorry. I thought we were meeting here before leaving for the flight.”

  James smiled to offer her reassurance. “Of course. While you’re here, let me make the introductions. Quinn, this is Cyrus Thornhill, chairman of the board. And this is Quinn Taylor, our new labor and employment attorney.”