by Emily Bishop
“Don’t be nervous. You’re going to be great,” Lucy says. “Let’s introduce you around the office so you can get more comfortable, shall we?”
“I’ll probably never get comfortable with the boss.”
Booker Knight’s reputation precedes him. Jerk. Major. I’m a little nervous because he was an asshole in my interview, but I was taught never to judge a person from first appearances. Innocent until proven guilty, right?
“Even the boss,” Lucy chuckles. She gestures to the door, and I step out, my gaze fixed on the ceilings far above.
“Ugh.”
Something smashes into me, and I nearly topple over. Instead, I catch my balance on the tip of my heel and right myself. When I look up, I’m stunned.
Booker Knight. His emerald eyes glisten with annoyance, and his dark hair is perfectly styled to offset his chiseled, angular features. His gray suit and vest is perfectly tailored for his body, which appears to be in tip top shape. He towers over me and glowers down into my own green eyes, while I blink in an attempt to recover.
Damn.
“Do your legs work?” His tone is arrogance itself.
I step back, recovering. “I think you can see that they do.”
“Then there’s no excuse for crashing into your superiors, is there? Perhaps you’ve never been taught to look where you’re going?”
“Uh…” I knew this guy had a reputation, but for heaven’s sake. I don’t even have a comeback. He’s my boss!
“Mute, as well then? What a great hire. Good job, Miss Shone. Now if you are capable of moving, that would be very helpful.”
Not knowing what else to do, I step aside. My heart is pumping with anger and indignation, but I’m trying to remember my place here.
Booker Knight owns this entire company. Getting on his bad side on the first day is not a good start.
“Not so hard, now was it?” he says as he walks past.
“Not as hard as being a decent human being,” I mumble to myself.
To my horror, he stops in his tracks and turns back around to face me. I tilt my chin up and face him, ready to accept my termination twenty minutes after starting. That would be a disaster, since I don’t have a backup plan, but I refuse to be cowed by this man.
I won’t.
“Is there a problem?” he asks in a low, lethal tone.
I want to crawl into a hole and die, but I don’t. This man is clearly used to people bowing down to him. I was never raised to grovel, so I don’t.
I shrug. “Just reminding myself that manners can’t be bought, Mr. Knight. I really am sorry for bumping into you.”
His eyes bore into me as he takes me in, his stare piercing right through me. My god, does this man have presence. My whole body is tingling, and I’m not sure whether it’s fear or attraction. Maybe a little of both? He belongs on the cover of GQ Magazine. How can my heart not flutter?
“Time is money. You’ll remember that next time you waste mine.”
With that, he marches off, and I am left stunned in the aftermath of my first real encounter with my boss.
Didn’t exactly go as hoped, did it?
I hear Lucy release a breath behind me, and I turn to look at her. Her amber eyes are wide as she stares at me in disbelief.
“I can’t believe you spoke to Mr. Knight like that. And that he didn’t fire you on the spot. I wonder if he’ll just send an email out later.”
My stomach drops at that comment. I’ve never backed down from a bully. In fact, I’ve stood up for a lot of people in my time. I’m on the tall side, so it’s easy to tower to get one’s point across. Still, my belly goes queasy at the thought of getting fired so soon. I’ve worked so hard to get here. How could I have been foolish enough to risk blowing it on the first day, within the first hour?
“I… I didn’t mean…” I stammer. When no other words come out, Lucy shrugs.
“Well, we can’t do anything about it now. Until we hear something, the assumption is you still work here, which means we need to get you set up and situated. Let’s take a quick tour, and then I’ll sit you down to explore the product.”
I try to get Booker Knight out of my head as I smile and greet a slew of young twenty-somethings around the office. By the time we reach my office again, I’ve already forgotten every one of their names.
“OK, so the first thing you’ll want to do is update your email to have Cupid’s Bow with the arrow logo as your signature. We all streamline that, per Mr. Knight’s orders. He likes things to be a certain way. You’ll get used to it as you acclimate.”
“Sure,” I say. Lucy sits next to me, and I plop into my chair and turn the computer on. The Cupid’s Bow logo appears as my backdrop, a sleek golden arrow piercing a modern-looking heart. I open up my email to see I already have several messages waiting for me, though a quick scan tells me none of them are from Booker Knight.
For now.
I set up my email as asked, and then Lucy reaches over and launches the app.
“We’ve made a few dating apps over the past few years, and they’ve all been a huge success. Mr. Knight has done his research, and I think he’s really got a hit with this one.”
A blurry window with a login appears on my screen, and I glance back at Lucy for direction.
“All of us have created accounts so we can really understand the user experience. It will also help us promote the company. We can’t talk it up if we don’t really know how it works, you know?”
“Sure,” I say.
I’ve never joined a dating site in my life. Never saw the appeal, nor the need. I always figured if I met someone, it would be organic, maybe through a friend or something. Coming from a small Pennsylvania town, I ran out of those kinds of options really fast.
Maybe this is part of my change of luck, in that department. Maybe I can help launch the app that brings a million marriages, and in the process, be one of those marriages myself.
Maybe pigs fly.
Lucy stands and backs out of the office. “I’ll leave you to play, but my office is right next door if you have any questions. You feeling good?”
“Feeling great,” I say with false bravado.
Booker—I can’t bring myself to call him Mr. Knight, like everyone else does—haunts my mind as I think about whether or not I’ll have a job tomorrow. He’s so tall. Taller than me, even. I always wanted to be with a man who was taller, but I never found one back home. At least, I never found one I liked.
Wait, am I thinking about dating Booker Knight? The biggest prick in town? My boss?
Get a grip, Sasha.
I spend the rest of the afternoon going through the back-end of the app. I’m not quite ready to make a profile just yet. I periodically check my email to see if I’m fired, so I don’t waste my time if I am. It’s a terribly unsettling feeling. I’ve always been the office favorite, the teacher’s pet. I get my work done on time, and it’s done well. I don’t procrastinate. I don’t half-ass. I’m the ideal employee.
Somehow, I’ll get Booker to see that.
Before I know it, I hear the sound of people laughing as they leave the office for the day. I’ve kept an eye on my door, but Booker never returned after he left. I wonder if he is often absent. Perhaps I won’t really see him at all, and everything we do together will be virtual.
That’s probably for the best. He probably doesn’t even remember my name, his assistant or not. One would hope he would, but given his behavior, I rather wonder that he even knew Lucy’s name this morning.
As if summoned by my thoughts, Lucy peers in the doorway and knocks twice. “How’d it go? Any questions?”
I shake my head and stretch. I didn’t realize I’d been sitting in the same position all day, and now my body is achy and stiff. I creak my neck from side to side and stand to bring back the circulation to my legs.
I really need to get up and stretch more.
“Not right now. I spent more time on the back-end, looking at how you all are configuri
ng everything. Tonight I’ll make an account and dig through a little more.”
“Tomorrow,” Lucy corrects. “Tonight you celebrate the fact that you sassed the boss and somehow managed to keep your job. I don’t think there is a single other person who can say that.”
I force a laugh, but I still feel uneasy. I don’t like being the one who talks back. I like being the one who’s a great team player. I wonder if I’ll be able to find that here.
I hope so. I don’t really have any other prospects in New York.
“Thanks for a great first day, Luce. I really appreciate all your help landing this job.”
“Think nothing of it. You’re a good worker and a good friend. Not to mention sharp as a tack. You’ll do great here.”
“I hope so,” I breathe. I turn off my computer, and we walk out into Manhattan. The streets are bustling with people on their way home from work, and I find myself caught up in the crowd and forced to wave a distant farewell to my friend as the tide of commuters carries us in opposite directions. By the time I get home, I feel the distinct need to be perfectly, wonderfully alone.
I plop on my baby blue loveseat and stare out at the building directly adjacent to mine. I should feel homesick. I should long for the green views of Pennsylvania fields, but I don’t. That brick view is beautiful to me, because it means freedom, a chance for adventure.
My mind turns toward our app, and I pull out my cell phone and download it to get a sense of it from the user’s point of view. I tap the button to create a login and land on a menu asking me for a username.
“You don’t need to use your real name,” I read aloud as I scan through the directions. “The point of the app is to allow a little mystery before the big reveal. Think of a name that defines you, that reveals a part of the person you truly are.”
I purse my lips as I consider. Who am I, really?
I can’t think of anything. Instead, I think about my favorite things. Puppies? No. Cheese? Yeah, that’ll go down well. What about angels? I like angels. Angels are nice, and it’s generic enough that I can go generally unnoticed. I bet there’s a hundred angels out there already. I type in “angel,” and I’m surprised it isn’t taken already, until I remember not many people are on the app yet. I set it as my username. Angel.
I’m brought to another screen, where I’m presented with a series of questions about myself. I scan through the questions and try to think of ways to improve them. Maybe if I can redeem myself, I might have a chance at lasting at this startup.
Maybe I can get Booker to look at me without all that annoyance and anger. I can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, he’d be even more handsome with a smile on that stupidly perfect face.
Or maybe I’m just a fool, distracted by a handsome man.
Probably the latter, in this case. I’m so screwed.
Chapter Two
Booker
My neck pinches, and I shift my tie to loosen it. The streets of New York are busy as ever when I step out from my apartment building and directly into my hired Rolls Royce.
“Good morning, Mr. Knight.”
“Good morning, Daniel.”
This is the same conversation we have every day, just as I like it. My driver knows I don’t like to chat unnecessarily, and he’s learned that a greeting is perfectly acceptable for the extent of our daily conversation. I pull out my phone to check some emails as he weaves through city traffic. I feel the car pull over and come to a complete stop before I’ve reached my third email.
“Great timing, as usual. I’ll call when I’m ready to be picked up.”
“Very good, sir. Enjoy the day.”
I open my car door and step back out onto the street. I pull my jacket a little tighter around my shoulders against the cold. For a while, I considered having Daniel open my door for me, like a proper valet, but then I realized that was stupid. I can open my own damn doors.
I stride through the glass entryway and head right for the elevator. It opens for me as I walk up, as though on demand. I love when that happens. It feels as though I can control the world around me, and even inanimate objects bend to my will.
If I can continue my work with artificial intelligence, I imagine someday I will have the world at my fingertips in just such a way. Nothing is impossible in a world of technology. Look at me.
A thirty-year-old billionaire who came from the foster system.
A rush of pride sweeps through me as the elevator rises. I am the American dream, the rags to riches hero of our nation. I am…
“Good morning, Booker.”
I glance down and realize there is a woman standing next to me. My eyebrows narrow at her casual address, but I can’t stop staring at her. She’s that impertinent assistant—the new one. Did I ever get her name?
Ellis. Sasha Ellis. I remember Lucy going to bat for her. Lucy never goes to bat for anyone. It intrigued me. Now, looking down at this delectable creature, I can’t help but be a little bewitched.
Her hair is fiery red, unlike any shade I’ve seen, and that’s saying something in New York. Her eyes, too, are unique. Bright green with flecks of yellow, like tiny bits of gold waiting to be discovered in a swirling California river. She’s taller than other women, too. If she wore higher heels, she might actually match my own height, though perhaps just a smidge shorter.
I realize I’m staring at her. I narrow my eyes and bring myself back to the present. Whoever this woman is, she doesn’t deserve any special attention. She’s a member of my staff.
“Mr. Knight,” I say. I glance ahead. It doesn’t seem to do me any good to look at her, so I opt not to.
“Have you always been so formal in address? I would imagine a millennial startup being a bit more laid back.”
My skin crawls at that reference, and I glare down at her again. “Do tell me, Miss Ellis, what else you think I should do with my billion-dollar company. Do you think we would be more productive if we wore Hawaiian Tshirts and polo shorts, perhaps? Maybe we could really hit that trillion dollar mark if we have flip-flop Fridays. That’s what a millennial would do, isn’t it?”
“I’m just making an observation. Are you always this angry?”
“I’m not angry. I’m annoyed that one of the lowest people on the totem pole thinks she can tell me how to run my company. You have been here all of one day, Miss Ellis. Because of that, I’m going to let this behavior slide, but don’t think I haven’t made note of it. You have some real work to put in to earn my favor back.”
That seems to have struck a chord, because she has no response. I find myself oddly disappointed by this. I’ve never had a woman question me so openly before. Usually, they’re stunned into silent submission. It’s boring as all hell.
I remind myself once again who this woman is, though. No one to trifle with. I have bigger fish to fry. The elevator door dings and opens. I step out and turn to face the new assistant.
“Coffee. Black, with two sugars. Half of that sugar is to be placed in the coffee while it is still at its hottest temperature, which should be exactly two hundred degrees. The second half can be put in just before you bring it to my office. Do you understand that, or should I waste more time while you write it down?”
She stares at me, and I can see the war raging inside of her. I wonder if she’s going to snap at me. It would be a shame to lose her so soon after hiring her on. This is the ultimate test to see what she’ll put up with to be a part of this project. I glance at my watch pointedly when she still doesn’t answer.
“Miss Ellis, there is a major romantic holiday coming up, and you are wasting more of my time. Are you capable of picking up coffee, or not?”
I see her swallow, then she nods and steps back into the elevator.
“I’ll have it in your office right away.”
“It must be from Buckley’s. They’re the only ones who get the order right.”
“Yes, Mr. Knight.”
Disdain drips from her tongue as she says my name, but I f
ind I rather like the way she says it. Her voice is velvety and soft. I wonder if her skin is the same, and then I dismiss the thought.
No time. App to finalize before a full launch just in time for Valentine’s Day.
All thoughts of Sasha Ellis vanish as I stride down the hallway to my office. Lucy steps from her own and waits for any orders, like a good office assistant. Sasha has a lot to learn from Lucy, the ever submissive, obedient girl that she is.
I wave a dismissive hand in her direction and walk into my office. The room is surrounded by glass windows, and I have a panoramic view of the city. I glance out before I settle in my chair and turn on my computer. I type away at a few emails, prepared to spend the rest of the morning in correspondence before heading out to meet with some possible investors.
“Working hard or hardly working?”
My best friend’s voice grates on my nerves as he causally strolls into my office and plops onto the plush leather sofa opposite my desk. It may look comfortable, but it isn’t. I did that on purpose, so people wouldn’t be inclined to stay.
That works on everyone except for Kieran.
“You know the answer to that, so why are you bothering me?”
“I think the app could use some work. I don’t think our premise is going to sell.”
I don’t look away from my computer as I answer. “Of course it’s going to sell. Mystery is what romance is all about.”
“Yes, but not being able to see the person before you talk to them? I think that’s going to drive people away.”
“They get seen eventually. That’s what adds to the intrigue. With every question, the image of the person on the other end gets clearer. People today are too quick to swipe left or right. They miss out on connections they might have otherwise enjoyed. This app allows for that by forcing people to get to know one another before their face is revealed.”
“Yes, I was there when we developed it. I know what it does. I’m telling you, people are going to want to see the rando strangers on the other end of the screen before they get too involved. What if they waste their time talking to some dildo when they could have been meeting someone they’re actually attracted to?”
