by Natalie Rios
Jacques doesn’t look like he wants to respond, but I can wait him out. Satan, however, is impatient. “Well? Answer her.”
Slowly, and rather painfully, Jacques responds in broken French. And my suspicions are confirmed.
Satisfied, I straighten my back and try not to smirk. No use rubbing it in. My words alone are going to sting. “You’re not really French.”
“What!” Jacques sputters, but his expression is too exaggerated for the outrage to be real. Eyes wild, he knows he’s been caught red-handed. “Of course I am French! I studied in Nice-”
“Yeah, I doubt that,” I interrupt. “See, your French is deplorable and your accent is obviously fake.”
“Maybe your French is deplorable. A few years of high school French does not make you an expert!”
“A few years would make someone an amateur,” I agree. “Like you. I, on the other hand, haven been studying French since age four. I attended a French immersion school up until the 9th grade, studied French in prep school and then majored in French at Yale. I also studied abroad in Amiens for a year and lived in Paris for another year after graduation.
“I’m no amateur, Jacques, “ I continue. “I can spot a native. And you aren’t one. Since you’re lying about where you’re from, it makes me wonder if you’re lying about anything else. Were you really educated in France? Did you ever attend culinary school? How much do you really know about French cuisine? I don’t think you were as thoroughly vetted as you should have been when you were hired.”
Jacques curls his lip at me. “You would allow her to speak to me this way?”
“Yes.” Satan’s response surprises me. I never would have expected him to have my back.
“You can’t possibly believe her lies-”
“I do, actually. For several reasons. One, they would explain the complaints I’ve gotten regarding authenticity. I hadn’t even gotten to those yet. And two, even I could tell your French was terrible. Hers is much better.”
Jacques sputters, finally reading the writing on the wall. “I will sue you-”
“You can certainly try. But then you would have to be able to prove your credentials in court. Now Jacq, I’m not a coldhearted man. I’ll allow you to save face and resign instead. The word fired has such a negative connotation, wouldn’t you agree?”
There’s some more back and forth because Jacques is a lot more dramatic than anyone could have anticipated. We even have to move into the café’s back office because the early lunch crowd starts trickling in and Satan doesn’t want to put on show for them.
For his part, Jacques threatens, begs, and cries but Mr. Connors remains firm. Eventually, Jacques agrees to email his letter of resignation by the end of the day. Mr. Connors briefly talks to Mina about temporarily taking over as head chef. It’s a good move. I haven’t known her long, but I have complete faith in her.
Satan and I walk back to the office in silence. I can’t gauge how he feels about what happened. I could be in the doghouse for speaking my mind. Or for escalating Jacques’ dramatics. But if the son of bitch says one negative thing to me, I’ll remind him the fraud would still be behind the stove if it hadn’t been for me.
“Close the door,” Satan gruffly commands when we reach the office.
I do as he says and decide to go on the offensive. It’s always better to strike first. “Look, I know it was mean of me to come at him like that-”
Raising his hand, he halts my words. “You did a good job, Charlotte.” And then he smiles. Like actually smiles.
Holy shit.
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I prefer his frowns and scowls. Because when he smiles, his face softens. He doesn’t look so intimidating or larger than life. What he does look is drop dead gorgeous. Approachable and with lips that invite kisses. Eyes sparkling as if he’s letting you in on a secret. And in a way he is. Satan’s soft side is Maine’s best kept secret.
Scowling Satan is fierce and beautiful, appealing to darker lusts I didn’t even know I had in me. But smiling Satan? He’s the boy I dreamed about in high school. The popular quarterback who was voted prom king and grew up to run his own successful business. He’s the type you would date, marry, and bring home to meet mom and dad.
Angry Satan is sexy as fuck. Happy Satan is dreamy. And the combination? Fucking lethal.
“Charlotte?” Snapping out of my trance, I realize I’m practically drooling. Wait a minute. What name did he just use?
“Have I been upgraded to first-name basis?”
Rocking back on his heels, his smile widens. That sound you hear is my heart melting. Call the police and the fireman because it is getting way too hot in here. “Guess so. You’ve earned it.”
“You’re not mad? I mean, what I did was kind of out of line. I know I’m just your assistant.”
He studies me for several long seconds before shaking his head. “Most people incorrectly assume the best ideas come from the top. That because someone’s in management or has a fancy title, that’s who you should turn to for all the answers. But every manager had to start somewhere. And with a good idea, you can launch yourself to the top. It’s how I got here. So I encourage all of my employees to speak up. If you have a good idea, I want to hear it. I’m a leader, not a dictator. I’m not some super genius or a god. I don’t have all the answers. This is a team. Everyone on the team contributes, even someone whose title is assistant.”
I wait for a however or but. And since there aren’t any, I wait for an embarrassingly long period of time. As his words sink in, I realize he’s the first person during this entire ordeal to express some belief in me. Granted, he’s been a jerk up until now. But now that I’ve proven myself, he seems willing to take me seriously. Not just listen to my ideas, but actually consider them.
A warm feeling starts spreading across my chest. Maybe this is the turning point I’ve been waiting for. Maybe things will actually turn out okay for me.
Maybe I should be worried his words affect me so much.
“Wow,” I say at last because he’s staring at me like I should be saying something. “A compliment and you didn’t even melt. Thank you. I’m surprised you fired him, though. Mina said you don’t like to fire people.”
“I don’t,” he admits. “But notice how I didn’t fire him. I gave him the option to resign, which he accepted.”
Hmm...I guess he did. “Why don’t you like firing people?”
He hesitates, appearing uncertain for the first time since I’ve met him. “I like to believe the best in people and I think everyone deserves a second chance. One free do-over. Unfortunately for Jacq, this isn’t the first time I’ve had to talk to him about customer complaints.”
Second chances. My mind immediately thinks back to my conversation with Fallon regarding their parents, how things had ended between them.
“Would you have wanted a second chance with your father?” I shouldn’t have asked. The question is way too personal and judging by the way his nostrils flare, I know I’ve pissed him off. “Forget I asked. I’m sorry, that was out of line.”
He nods before changing the subject. “I’ll need you to set up a meeting with my brothers to discuss the café situation. Have Tanner stop by half an hour beforehand. Alone.”
“Alone?”
One word and just like that, Satan is back in full force. Bitch face intact with one brow arched. “Yes, alone. I’ll be in my office doing paperwork the rest of the afternoon. Good day, Miss Kensington.”
Ah, fuck. We’re back to last names again. Dealing with this guy is giving me a serious case of whiplash.
Chapter Nine
I have a new enemy. His name is Tanner.
Yes, Satan’s brother Tanner. It seems my stock with the Connors family is rapidly plummeting. At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if Fallon hauls me out of bed in the middle of the night to kick me out. Pictures of me banging on the front door, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and cotton panties, would be all over TMZ by mornin
g.
But that hasn’t happened yet. And truthfully, I don’t expect it to. Fallon is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. I have no issues getting along with her. No, it’s the Connors men who are quickly turning against me.
What did I do to Tanner? That remains a mystery. He seemed okay when he came in to meet with Brody earlier this week. There was some yelling, but I expect no less from Satan. Kyle had joined them later and there was no yelling after that. But Tanner wouldn’t even look at me when the younger brothers resurfaced after the meeting.
He’d stood off to the side, checking his phone, while Kyle made small talk. Short small talk. Even Kyle could tell Tanner wasn’t feeling it and so he rushed through the obligatory ‘how are you?’ and ‘we should get lunch sometime’ before trotting after his brother.
“Why do you think Tanner’s mad at me all of a sudden?” I ask Fallon on our way to a staff meeting. “I can’t have pissed him off already. I mean, I barely talk to the guy!”
“Tanner’s just like that,” she explains. “Moody is practically his middle name.”
“I just don’t get it. Everything was fine up until he talked to Mr. Connors. He stopped by my desk to say hello and everything. Then he doesn’t even say goodbye? He must have said something to him.”
“Who did?”
“Satan!” I huff. “Your oldest brother.”
“What could he have possibly said to make Tanner get mad at you? Besides, I thought you and Brody were on good terms after the whole Jacques thing.”
“He’s another one who’s been acting weird,” I grumble as we settle into our seats.
This is my first all-staff meeting and I’m sweating bullets. Nervous because Fallon warned me Mr. Connors expects us to give an update on the party planning. I’ve gotten quite a bit done, but I haven’t formally presented anything or spoken in front of a large crowd since college. What if they don’t like what I’ve come up with?
Well, too bad so sad. I’m getting shit done and coming in under budget.
“Is he still insisting you call him Mr. Connors?” Fallon asks, brows furrowed. “I thought he’d be over that by now.”
“Frankly, the name thing is the least of my worries.” Swiveling my head around the room, I spot Mr. Connors at the podium. A solid twenty or so feet separate us. Even so, I lower my voice to a whisper, just in case. “He keeps assigning me random projects that take up a lot of time but seem completely useless. And he’s still forwarding the phones to himself.”
“Did you talk to him about the phones?”
“No,” I admit. “He’s not exactly the easiest person to talk to.”
“You should ask him. I know it bothers you to think he doesn’t trust you, but the phone thing might not be about trust at all. It might just be a leftover habit from the months he went without an assistant.”
“I doubt he trusts me. I do one good thing, he briefly praises me and then goes back to being a pain in my ass.”
“Talk to him,” Fallon insists. “You’re making all sorts of assumptions based on bits and pieces of information. You’ll never know for sure unless you ask him.”
“He’s been such a bear lately. I’ve been thinking of changing his nickname from Satan to Oscar the Grouch.”
Fallon ignores my last statement. “While you’re at it, talk to Tanner too. He may be moody, but he’s a reasonable guy. This might all be a big misunderstanding.”
I highly doubt that, but Satan’s starts the meeting, meaning discussion time is over. I should have known Fallon would side with her brothers. It’s what I expected Jax to do for me.
It hurts to think of Jax. Despite his harsh words, I called him a few days ago about supplying alcohol for the party. Surprisingly, he agreed to help. You would never guess he’s doing a favor for his sister though. Our conversation was polite and impersonal, like two strangers discussing business.
When had our relationship gone so completely off the rails?
Actually, I know exactly when and where. At a college party ten years ago. That was the night we started drifting apart. The worst part is, Jax doesn’t even know the truth.
A sharp elbow to my ribcage jars me out of my thoughts. “Oof!” I glare over at Fallon, who frantically signals for me to stand up.
“Nothing to report, Miss Kensington?” Satan drawls from the podium.
Damn it all to hell. I thought I would be one of the last to present since the summer party isn’t considered a high priority. I really should know better by now. He’s always trying to knock me off my stride and thanks to my stroll down Self-Reflection Lane, I’m coming across as being unprepared.
It’s saving face time.
Launching to my feet, I retrieve my notebook from my purse and flip to the brief outline Fallon helped me create earlier. “This year’s theme will be Old Hollywood. Decorations are being donated by Robbie Rockwell-”
“Donated? This Robbie Rockwell is being quite generous,” Satan interrupts. “What did you offer him in exchange?”
Is he implying what I think he’s implying?
“Nothing,” I snap. “Robbie Rockwell is a family friend. He’s also a local artist and part owner of Rockwell Inc. You know, the candy company? He likes art and doesn’t need the money. Given the low budget, I couldn’t pass up on an opportunity to get free decorations.”
I wait a beat, cocking a brow at Satan in challenge. But all he does is nod, conceding the point. Smiling, I explain my plan with the local bar.
“I’m meeting with the manager of the Rocking Horse Tavern later this afternoon. At the moment, we have a tentative agreement to utilize two of their bartenders and a couple of their signature beverages in exchange for advertising and $200-”
“They’re willing to provide alcohol and bartenders for just $200 and their logo printed somewhere?”
“No, they’ll be providing bartenders and signature beverages. As in recipes. The bulk of the alcohol is being donated by Jackson Kensington.”
“Kensington? Any relation to you?”
“He’s my brother. He distills his own brand of vodka, which he sells at his nightclub in New York. A business partner of his is part owner of a rum manufacturer. Between the two of them, we’ll be receiving the bulk of our alcohol free of charge in exchange for advertising.”
That’s how I convinced Jax to go along with this. Jax’s brand is new and needs the exposure. Yup, this is strictly business for Jax. Sad day when the business card trumps the sister card.
“So that leaves us with $800 for food and advertising? Not bad. We just might come in under budget for once.”
For once? I try not to let the phrase bother me as I retake my seat. I wouldn’t put it past him to lowball the budget just for me.
At the end of the meeting, I follow Fallon out, hoping to catch a moment alone with her so I can ask about last year’s budget. Unfortunately, Tanner decides this is the very moment he needs to confront me.
Standing in front of the only exit, he holds out his arms to block our access to the doors. “How did you know?” Though his tone is low, it sounds menacing enough have my back stiffening.
“Know what?”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” he hisses.
Rolling my eyes, I try to sidestep him, but he’s a lot quicker than me. “No one’s playing dumb. I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Jacques!” The name echoes down the hall from his loud bark.
“Could you lower your voice? You’re causing a scene.” I nervously glance around, hoping Satan isn’t witnessing any of this. The last thing I need is to be blamed for his younger brother’s meltdown.
“What do you care? According to the tabloids, causing scenes is kind of your thing.”
“You should care considering we’re at a work meeting and your boss is somewhere in the vicinity. Do you really think your brother wants us shouting at each other in the middle of a foyer? In front of the entire staff?”
His jaw tightens, but
he nods and lowers his voice. “How did you know Jacques was lying?”
I shrug. “Just a gut feeling that proved to be true when my French was ten times better than his.”
“I don’t get it. You don’t have a clue about the most common sense things and then out of nowhere you pull off this genius move. Is that your strategy? To pretend you’re dumb and useless so then you can shock everyone when you do something right for a change?”
My jaw clenches and I have to take a deep breath to calm myself. “I don’t pretend to be anything, Tanner. You assumed I was dumb and useless. Just like you assumed Jacques was telling the truth about his background. It’s not my fault you were wrong. You know what they say about assuming.”
Again, I try to move around him and again Tanner blocks me. This time, he grabs onto my elbow. “You’re not even competent enough to hold your secretary position. Brody’s seriously considered firing you twice since you’ve started. You’re lucky Kyle thinks with his dick and continues to go to bat for you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I growl as I try to wrestle my arm out of his. I don’t believe Satan ever truly considered firing me. Not after what he said the other day about second chances. “And anyway, you hired me. If I suck so much, that’s on you.”
“Want to know why you were hired? And why you haven’t been fired yet?”
Leaning in, Tanner presses his face close to mine. So close, we’re practically exchanging breaths. And I feel it starting. My chest tightens and a cold chill makes its way down my spine. Shit.
“You have a great body, a gorgeous face and a wonderful pair of tits. Kyle likes the look of you and I think Brody does, too. Hell, his brain knows he should fire you, but the other head in his pants keeps talking him out of it. The vision of getting you on your knees, that’s what’s kept him from firing you.”
