by Zoey Derrick
“Certainly,” I state with a smile and I lapse back into the sales pitch I’d given Shelly and the two, now silent, gentleman in the room. Making a few alterations as I go along, hoping to avoid having it sound scripted.
My eyes are focused on Mr. Wellington, Shelly and the other two gentlemen in the room in an attempt to avoid the cocky asshat in the corner glaring at me. He is throwing daggers in my direction and the more I ignore him, the harder his stare becomes.
When I’m done, Mr. Wellington asks a few more questions of his own. Ones not previously asked, and Shelly jots down notes, or the questions, I’m not sure which. Then he launches into a couple of rapid fire marketing questions, slogans mostly and I’m able to rattle off the company or product they’re associated with until finally he throws one at me that I don’t recognize, but I scrunch my nose at it.
“You don’t like that one?”
I shake my head. “Personally, no. Professionally, it works, depending on the product.”
“Let’s just say it’s a new communication device that will revolutionize the way we communicate,” the suit in the corner chimes in. The scowl hasn’t left his brow but at least I feel confident that he’s not throwing daggers at me anymore, for the moment.
“What else does the company do?”
“A little of this, some of that,” the suit says vaguely, not wanting to provide me with too much information, which I completely understand. I’m being put on the spot and my heart races with excitement for the first time in more than a week. This is what I live for.
I cock my head at him. “Are you under patent? Ready to go to market? Where does the product stand?”
He smirks. “It’s light years ahead of anything else out there right now.” The cocky-asshat showing his colors, again. His superiority complex is palpable and I do my best to ignore the animosity rolling off him. I can’t begin to imagine what it is he’s claiming to have in his portfolio, but whatever it is must be good if it is granting him this overly cocky attitude about it.
“Infinite possibilities, today,” I rattle off and a few eyes bulge in my direction, including the suit.
“That’s it,” Mr. Wellington exclaims with so much enthusiasm he makes me jump, forcing my eyes away from the dark blonde, blue-violet eyed god. “Hot damn!” He claps and looks directly at me. “You’re hired, Ms. McKidd.”
The look the man in the suit throws my way tells me otherwise, but I do my best to ignore him.
“Michelle, whatever it is you need to do, get it done and get her in here. She’s young, fresh and I’m excited to see what she can do when she’s given the entire portfolio to consider before coming up with a new strategy.”
“Yes, sir,” Shelly replies and she smiles at me. “Congratulations, Ms. McKidd.” This time, the smile reaches her eyes. And I too find my smile.
Chapter 4
DYSON
“Vice” - Miranda Lambert
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wellington, I’m Ireland McKidd.”
Fuck my goddamn life.
I glare at her. I’m unwilling to accept the fact that the person I was hoping she was, truly is the woman I want her to be.
It’s fucking her! God, nearly ten years have done her good. She looks stunning. Stop it, Dyson. Of all the places on this green earth she could land, she has to throw coffee on me and waltz her way right back into my life. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The only way this is going to go any better is if she doesn’t know who I am. I can only hope at this point she hasn’t put two and two together. This will make this so much easier. Who the fuck am I kidding? For the last seven years, I’ve been looking for her.
There is no denying the fact that I need her to know. I want her to know so bad I can’t stop glaring at her. Willing her to know. I’d imagined this day so many times in my head, but in my head she knew me immediately, and in my head, she spewed hatred at me and stormed off. At least that’s what I thought I would need to hear, because then, maybe, I could get over her and move on with my life. It wasn’t for a lack of effort, but karma has been a real bitch to me these last ten years. This way I can know she’s pissed off at me, and I can have a real reason to be mad at her over the superficial one I’ve made up in my head.
God, she’s so fucking gorgeous.
She’s not the lost, little fifteen-year old girl I left on a pile of hay on a barn floor nearly ten years ago. She’s a woman, a beautiful woman. She changed, she’s grown, she’s lost so much weight and she’s still the woman of my dreams.
I’m so unbelievably fucked.
I try and settle into the corner, hoping to catch some of what she’s saying as she explains to Wellington why she wants to work here. She graduated from ASU. I internally shake my head. She’s been around the goddamn corner for how long now? Three years? While she does her best to convince Wellington of her worthwhile employment, I contemplate the steps I need to take to ensure she doesn’t work here. I don’t need the constant distraction of knowing she’s right downstairs, especially if she never figures out who I am. For some reason I need her to come to that conclusion on her own. She may not figure out who I am, but I have no intention of telling her myself. If I allow Wellington to put her in close proximity to me on a daily basis, there is no doubt in my mind she will figure me out.
I watch her carefully. There is a passion in her eyes as she speaks about Wellington Ad Management, about her school background and her internships at Stauffer over the last three summers. That passion she exudes is the biggest turn on and my already aching cock throbs, straining relentlessly against my pants. Watching her talk, listening to her voice- sweet torture. She has a sexy little rasp to her voice that makes her sound like the best fucking phone sex operator in the world and she’s nearly got me coming in my pants. Jesus, I could get off just listening to her talk.
Wellington puts her through her paces and she doesn’t falter in the slightest. She’s good. Damn good. Suddenly her working at Wellington isn’t so much about having her so close and yet so far away. Her working for him makes it so she can’t work for me. The more I listen to her, the more I realize Wellington might not be the place for her. I think she may be better suited upstairs. It would be fitting after all.
I listen more intently as he gets to the slogan he’d hit me with in his office. That’s what he wanted me for when he called Andy. He wanted to go over it, run it by me and I absolutely hated it, but his delivery told me he was pretty put off by it too. His office has had more than a month to come up with a slogan and a marketing plan and the truth is, Wellington’s people are old, tired and highly unimaginative and that doesn’t work for me.
She shakes her head. “Personally, no. Professionally, it could work, depending on the product.”
Wellington opens his mouth to speak and I stave him off. “Let’s just say it’s a new communication device that will revolutionize the way we communicate.”
I watch her intently. I can almost hear the wheels turning in her head as she thinks through what I’ve said. I didn’t exactly make it easy for her. “What else does the company do?” she asks.
“A little of this, a little of that.” I don’t want to give her any more information. I want to see if she’s as good as I’m afraid she is.
She cocks her head at me, exposing a neck I desperately want to run my tongue along, and asks me directly. Her eyes bore into mine as if she’s trying to find my secrets. She is unaffected by my smirk. “Are you under patent? Ready to go to market? Where does the product stand?”
“It’s light years ahead of anything else out there right now.”
It takes her all of ten seconds to say something that will alter everything I know about the woman standing in front of me. “Infinite possibilities, today.”
My eyes bug out of my head and Wellington erupts in laughter and excitement. She just did in thirty seconds what Wellington’s entire team couldn’t come up with in thirty days. I can’t say I blame him when he hires her on the spot.
I, on the other hand, decide that whatever Wellington will pay her, I will offer her triple just to keep her closer to me.
Chapter 5
Ireland
“Never Say Never” - Tristan Prettyman
What the hell just happened in there?
I walk out of the conference room and wait for Shelly to join me.
I can’t believe it; I’ve landed my dream job.
The smile on my face no doubt stretches from ear to ear.
I walk a couple steps past the door, my hand still on the handle when I hear, “You can’t hire her.” It’s the suit’s voice that reaches my ears.
“On the contrary, she just saved your company and didn’t even think twice about it,” Mr. Wellington’s voice fires back.
“Just because she spouted three words doesn’t mean she’s worthy of a full-time job…” The voice continues but it’s muffled as I let the door close behind me. My heart sinks. What the hell did I ever do to him?
Wouldn’t that be the icing on the cake to an already shit week? Some fucker, who I don’t even know, forces me out of my job before I’ve even started it?
When I introduced myself to Mr. Wellington, I’d seen the flare of recognition in his eyes when I said my name, but I can’t for the life of me imagine where it is he’s met me before. Sure, those blue-violet eyes are a little too familiar, but the notion that it could be him is just too absurd to consider. They moved to Atlanta all those years ago. Why on earth would he be in Phoenix? Probably for the same reason you’re here, something new. My subconscious is meddling again.
The door opens again, the voices continue arguing about something, but I can’t quite make it out before the door closes and Shelly strides over to me. “Don’t worry about them. Mr. Cole has no real ground here.”
“He doesn’t work here?” I ask in disbelief.
She smiles. “No, he’s a client of Wellington, though that’s putting it mildly.”
The flood of relief that washes through me is almost tangible. So he has no power over whether or not Wellington hires me? Sure, he can argue left and right and Wellington can certainly give into him if he’s a large client, but if he’s only a client, what ground does he have?
The sense of relief spills over when I realize I don’t have to work with the bastard in a suit who’s done nothing but treat me like a lowlife pariah since I ran into him downstairs. “Thank god,” I mutter.
“You know him?” Shelly asks me. Something in my reaction has her curious. I shake my head, unsure if I want to go into the details of why I’m relieved I won’t have to work for him. “Well, he seems to know you.” She gives me a quizzical look.
“If he is referring to our run-in downstairs, then sure, he knows me. He’s the reason I’m a mess.” I gesture toward my torso and my blouse.
“Oh,” she says in surprised understanding. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“What do you mean by that?” I ask her.
“Mr. Cole isn’t exactly the kindest person when it comes to people who are unlike him.” There is a bit of disdain in her voice and I wonder why that is but I can’t fathom a guess without assuming it’s some sort of jealousy on her part. He’s drop dead gorgeous. Just the kind of man who remains aloof and out of reach for anyone who doesn’t have the bank account to match. I find my senses and nod my head as she leads me back toward the reception area. I refuse to look at the seating area, afraid my high of getting a new job will be overshadowed by what happened last week.
Shelly leads me to the front desk. I check out a little, thinking about the suit in the conference room, and don’t pay much attention to what Shelly and the receptionist are discussing until she turns to me. “Cara from Human Resources will be meeting with you. She’ll be right out. Why don’t you take a seat,” Shelly says, ushering me toward the chairs. “We will get all your paperwork done and then set you up with some tests.”
I squint at her in confusion. “What kind of tests?”
She chuckles. “Background check, drug test, things like that. Once we have all that stuff back, we can get you started.”
“How long does that usually take?” I ask. I don’t want to sound desperate, but I need this job to start sooner than I’d planned. Having to rush off to Missouri at the last minute has left my finances in shambles and if I can’t start in the next couple weeks, I’m going to have to find a part-time job to keep myself afloat. We don’t need to go into the fact that my mother left all her money, life insurance and the insurance payout for the car to my brother in her will. I was left with a cryptic note on the outside of an envelope that says, ‘All will be taken care of shortly’, like I’m supposed to know what that means.
“Depends on how fast you can get the test done, but assuming your background is clear and you’re not a drug user, we should have them in about a week or so. HR will go over your salary, and give you some material to read up on before you start. We’ll set a date once we’re ready. Probably two, maybe three, weeks, tops.”
“Sounds great.” I extend my hand to her again, this time it doesn’t hurt quite so bad when she takes it. The last thing I need right now is a trip to the emergency room because of a prickweed.
Shelly leaves me in reception and I pull out my phone while I wait.
I start to text my mother to let her know I got the job, but I stop myself. The reminder that no one is there anymore sends a single tear down my cheek.
I text my friend Reese instead. He’s the reason I have this interview in the first place, not to mention Kerrigan will be happy to know all her hard work with me has paid off.
Got the job. Starting soon. Squishy kisses! xx
Reese: Congrats, baby girl, you deserve a slice of happy. K says well done. Dinner soon?
Ireland: Call me soon. I need some time.
Reese: Still on for Lee at Blu?
Ireland: Definitely.
Next I text Becca:
Got the job! Details soon.
Becca: YES!!! We’re celebrating tonight.
Arguing with Becca through text is like throwing spitballs at the wall and so not worth the mess afterward, but I’m not going out. Sure, I may have gotten a new job, my dream job even, but going out and celebrating is the absolute last thing on my mind right now. All I really want is a big ass glass of wine, my most comfortable sweatpants and my Kindle. Another tear slides down my cheek before I can stop it. Thankfully I can still see my phone clearly so I know a meltdown isn’t on the way.
I was hoping the high of getting a new job would overshadow the sadness I feel, and it did, until I remembered that I don’t have anyone else to tell besides Becca and Reese.
I swipe away the tears as the hair on the back of my neck prickles once again and I look up in time to see the asshole-suit walking toward me. His eyes are scrutinizing me like I’m some sort of enigma.
I turn away from him by burying my face in my phone and hiding the fact I was crying. This man has seen too much of my vulnerable side since I met him downstairs and I can’t give him anymore. A set of shoes that probably cost more than my entire bedroom come into view.
“You got a new job, hardly a reason to cry.” He tries to sound sweet but instead it comes out sarcastic and cocky.
My eyes dart to his and that all too familiar violet shade in his eyes sends butterflies flying around my stomach. “If you had it your way, I wouldn’t have a job,” I snap at him.
His eyes flare and then they dart down the hall and back to me as he realizes I overheard part of their conversation.
“No, most definitely not.” His voice is full of anger.
My whole body vibrates with my own frustration at him. I cannot fathom a reason why he thinks I don’t deserve a job. There are all kinds of things rolling around my tongue to spout at him, but we’re interrupted by a soft, female voice. “Ms. McKidd?”
The interruption breaks our eye contact and in a huff he turns and walks to the elevator and presses the up button. The only thing ab
ove Wellington is Tigress. So that’s where you belong, isn’t it? I find my legs, toss my phone back in my bag and follow the petite woman down the hallway he’d disappeared down earlier.
I spend over an hour with Cara from HR going over some rules, signing papers, including a NDA (non-disclosure agreement) pertaining to clients and working projects. I knew this was coming. Marketing firms are held in the strictest of confidence by their clients and anonymity is the highest priority.
When it was all said and done with, she handed me a folder with copies of everything I’ve signed, plus a bunch of other materials pertaining to employment guidelines and the rules of the office. Somewhere in that folder is my official offer letter. I haven’t even looked at it yet; it’s tucked inside an envelope.
For an entry level position, I’ll be surprised if I’m making twenty-five grand a year. But, like my internships, it’s completely worth it. I’ll get a second job if I have to.
I manage to escape the office and the building without coming in contact with Mr. Stubborn-Ass-Expensive Suit Wearing-Prickhead. Thank god for the little things.
I hopped on the next train and headed home.
Becca wasn’t home when I got there, thank god.
I don’t need the comments about how messed up I look. Despite getting the job, Becca is usually only good for pointing out my screw-ups. Like the fact that I have coffee splattered all over me.
Stepping inside my apartment, I freeze, dropping my bag to the ground for the second time today.
My eyes have got to be playing tricks on me or I’ve walked into some sort of twilight zone. Sitting on the kitchen island that separates the kitchen from the living room is a crystal vase filled with white and purple roses, just like the ones that were here a week ago when I’d come home to pack for Missouri.
My heart freezes in my chest, tightening, making it nearly impossible to breathe. I put my hands on my knees in an attempt to tamp down the rising panic attack, but my stomach rolls and I dart for the kitchen sink. Unleashing nothing more than dry heaves because I honestly can’t remember the last time I ate.
