by Roxy Reid
I inhale sharply, suddenly remembering a tidbit from last week’s meeting. “Given that Maryanne is going on maternity leave starting next Friday,” Julia said, “we’ve put out a call for a new PA for you, Mr. Banks. Would you like to meet the candidates?”
“Just pick the most qualified one,” I replied, itching for the fucking meeting to be over so I could go back to the peace and quiet of my office.
Before I can answer her, we finally arrive at the thirteenth floor and the elevator doors slide open. I’m out like a shot, making a beeline for Julia’s office.
“Julia,” I below as I enter her office without knocking, “we need to talk.”
“Mr. Kaplan, I will need to call you right back, all right? Buh-bye.” Julia, the office manager who has been around since my father hired her in the nineties, hangs up the phone and fixes me with a tired stare. “What’s the problem?”
“The new PA you hired didn’t even know who I was. Didn’t I say to hire the most qualified individual for the position?”
“She is qualified,” Julia retorts, pulling a file from her impeccably organized desk drawers. She hands me the girl’s resume. “She has a bachelor’s degree in Architecture from the Rhode Island School of Design and has been interning for the past two years with Torrado Architects. She’s smart, passionate and had great references from professional architects.”
Consuella Diaz. Ella. Of course. I hand the resume back to Julia with a sigh. “She was under the impression she would be working for Max Banks Senior.”
“Your father interviewed her, so that might be why.”
I nearly choke on my coffee. “He what?”
Julia looks like she is trying not to roll her eyes. “You didn’t want to be a part of the interview process, so your father stepped in. We discussed it in the meeting last week.”
Damn it. I really need to start paying attention in those meetings.
“Is there a problem with her, Mr. Banks?” Julia asks.
I grit my teeth and let out a long, deep breath. “No. Thank you, Julia.” I head towards my office, wanting to bash my head against the nearest wall. This is not going to help my position with my father. In fact, I’m fairly certain if he finds out I’ve slept with my PA, I will become his PA, and that will be that. This isn’t my fault, of course—how could I have known she was the PA Julia hired? But father doesn’t care about semantics.
Ella is setting up at the reception desk outside my office when I round the corner. She straightens when she sees me, but fixes me with a withering look that does not improve my mood. “See me in my office,” I tell her before heading in there myself.
She follows a few minutes later, leaving the door wide open behind her. “You wanted to see me?”
“Close the door,” I snap.
“I would feel more comfortable if it’s left open, Mr. Banks,” she retorts coolly. She sits across the desk from me, pen and notepad in hand. “What can I do for you?” she asks.
I want to punch a wall. Instead I put my feet up on the desk and lean back in my seat. She is a splash of color in my minimalist office, with her green shirt and soft brown eyes. I clear my throat. “You can close the door.” My voice is firm and contains a note of warning, and it has the desired effect on her. She slowly stands and walks to the door. I can see the tension in her shoulders as she shuts it and turns back to face me. “Thank you. Have a seat.” She does. “So. We find ourselves in a bit of a bind, here, Miss Diaz.”
“Call me Ella,” she says. “Do I still have a job, or should I not bother unpacking?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Well, considering my father hired you, I don’t think it will look great if I fire you on your first day.”
She looks slightly relieved by that. “Why did your father hire me if I’m working for you?” she asks. “Couldn’t be bothered?”
“I was busy,” I shoot back, annoyed by her audacity. “I’m the CEO. I don’t have time to interview PAs. I’m sure Julia filled you in on the fast-paced nature of my office here.”
“She did,” Ella replies, nodding. “I can handle it.”
“Good,” I say, “because we have a meeting in ten minutes. I think first, though, you and I need to establish some rules.”
She frowns. “Rules?”
I put my feet down and lean forward in my seat. “Obviously we can’t tell anyone anything about last night.”
She rolls her eyes. “Obviously. Anything else?”
I glare at her. “You have to be professional. I’m your boss. You can’t talk to me like that, especially not in front of other people.”
“I’ll be professional if you are,” she snaps back. Her eyes are bright and a small smile is lurking in the corner of her mouth. For a moment I can’t tell if she’s flirting or just being insolent.
I laugh and stand up, grabbing my coffee cup. “I can do whatever I want, Princesa,” I tell her. I nod in the direction of the door. “Grab the door for me, will ya?”
She remains in her seat, staring up at me. When she speaks, her voice is syrupy sweet. “If you keep treating me like that, I’ll tell your father we slept together.” She stands and opens the door for me, gesturing exaggeratedly. “After you, el jefe.”
For some reason I’m mildly turned on, despite how infuriating she’s being. I breeze past her out the door and lead the way to the meeting room, ignoring the warm feeling spreading in my ears and nether regions. I’m the boss. At the end of the day, she has to do what I say. She can make her little threats, but I know she needs this job badly. She won’t give it up out of sheer pettiness.
Father is waiting in the boardroom along with Julia and the rest of the team. I take my place at the head of the table. The only empty seat for Ella is at the opposite end of the table, which she takes without comment. “This is Ella,” I tell everyone, nodding towards her. “My new PA.”
There’s a murmur of acknowledgement, but I know no one gives a shit about that. Ella has her laptop with her and is poised to take notes.
I begin the meeting, continuing our discussion about a newly acquired contract to build a celebrity home on the Upper East Side. It’s such a big case that we don’t even know who the celebrity is yet, which means it’s someone with a lot of clout. A chance for me to really make my mark with the company and in the city. We’re in the middle of reviewing one of my architects’ pitches when Ella speaks up. “What about accessibility?”
Twelve pairs of eyes swivel towards her. “What?” I ask, dumbfounded. I’m beginning to regret my decision not to fire her right away. It may piss off my father, but at this rate she could end up making me look worse if she stays.
She stands and leans across the table, giving me a fantastic view down her shirt, and points to the sketch of the entryway to the house. “You only have stairs here. What if the homeowner has accessibility needs? Or what if a family member or visitor does? They have no way of getting up these stairs.”
All eyes turn back to me. I take a deep breath, trying to get a handle on the sheer irritation I feel. “The homeowner is perfectly mobile, Ella, and is also a recluse, so she won’t be having visitors. Please continue to take notes and leave the details to the professionals.”
There’s a stunned silence. Ella looks like she wants to strangle me. Well, that feeling is mutual.
“Let’s move on,” Father chimes in, tossing aside his pitch package. “I’m not feeling this one, anyway.”
I turn towards him, incredulous. “Blake is my best architect. This design is excellent. What could possibly be the problem?”
“The girl may have a point,” Father says, nodding towards Ella. “Our client is getting older. She may indeed end up with mobility concerns. We should at least have a solution in mind, knowing a ramp will take up more space and disturb the landscaping plan.”
At this point I’m so angry I can barely hear over the blood rushing in my ears. “I think we should adjourn this meeting for now.” I push back my chair and stand. “I’ve got a headach
e. Julia, let’s schedule a pick up for tomorrow.”
“I can do that, Julia,” Ella says, making a note on her laptop. I leave the room before I can throw my chair at her.
Christ. I need a drink.
3
Max
She finds me in my office stirring a shot of whiskey into my coffee, a practice I’ve come to rely on to get through the days that my father is in town. I quickly shove the flask back into my desk drawer. If she noticed, she doesn’t say so. Leaving the door open, she comes to stand opposite me, her notebook folded across her chest. After a few moments of her silent staring, I snap. “What?”
“Did you get a kick out of humiliating me on my first day?” she asks icily.
I sit down heavily in my office chair and sigh. “You embarrassed yourself. PAs don’t speak up in meetings. They take notes. They get me coffee.”
“Your father seemed to appreciate my comments,” she points out. “He even agreed with me.”
“I don’t think it was your comments he was appreciating,” I mutter.
A look of outrage crosses her face. “And just what do you mean by that?”
I’m starting to understand why she’s covering her chest with her notebook. I raise one eyebrow, hoping she’ll catch my drift. “Relax,” I say. “My father was probably just trying to pacify the situation. I’m sure he’s gonna kick my ass for not keeping my PA under control.”
“I’m a human being,” she snaps, “not a puppy. You can’t control me.”
I take a big gulp of my spiked coffee, silently asking some higher power to grant me the strength to get through this day. “Ella. You’re on thin ice here. Understand? I know we had an awkward start, but I want you to know I don’t shit where I eat. Us hooking up was a big mistake and it won’t happen again. If you can’t accept that and let go of whatever jealous obsession thing you have with me, this isn’t going to work.”
“You think I’m obsessed with you?” Her voice is rising to an uncomfortable volume. I get up with the aim of closing the door, but she blocks my way. “That’s rich. I couldn’t even remember what your name was this morning. I didn’t even know who you were. You arrogant jerk. How dare you? You can’t treat me like shit because you saw me naked last night. Guess what? I saw you naked too, Max, and I wouldn’t be getting too big for my britches, if I were you.”
“Get out of my way,” I growl, taking a step towards her. She doesn’t move. I have to admit, her stubbornness, though infuriating, is a definite turn-on. “Talk about double standards. You’re treating me like shit, too! The difference you seem to forget, though, is that I am your boss. So grow up and stick your self-righteous attitude right up your—”
“Max!”
I freeze. In fact, we both do. Ella’s eyes go wide as she looks over my shoulder. I shut my eyes for a moment and count to three. Then, “Father!” I say conversationally as I turn to face him. “We were just talking about you.”
My father literally looks like he smells a rat, with narrowed eyes and pinched mouth. “I hope for your sake that that isn’t true, given the contents of the conversation I just heard.” He looks from me to Ella and back again. “My office. Now.” He turns to go, then stops and glances back at Ella. “Oh, Miss Diaz? Thank you for your feedback this morning, however it won’t be needed at future meetings, at least while you’re still my son’s PA. I hope you understand.” With that, he’s gone.
I hope my face looks as smug as I feel as I turn back to Ella. She is looking up at the ceiling in either prayer or exasperation. I can’t tell which. When she looks back at me, it’s with a smile. “You have a meeting, Mr. Banks. Would you like some more coffee?”
I barely catch the grin that’s about to spread across my face. “Yes, I would. Thank you, Miss Diaz.” I turn to go, but her voice stops me.
“And would you like another shot of whiskey in your coffee, sir?”
I grit my teeth. “Most definitely, Miss Diaz.”
My father still insists on keeping an office in the building, despite his infrequent use of it. This is especially annoying given that said office is easily the best one. It’s the corner room on the top floor, with floor-to-ceiling windows boasting jaw-dropping views of the entire city. Someday, it will be mine.
He doesn’t look up from his work as I enter the office, close the door, and take a seat in the chair opposite him, or even when he first speaks. “Why did you sleep with that girl, Max?”
I don’t even have to pretend to be offended. How could he just assume that? Nevermind that it’s true, that’s not the point. “What makes you think I did, Father?”
He finally looks up at me, and he looks about as exasperated as I feel. “Please don’t insult my intelligence. I heard your little conversation back there. I’m quite sure the whole office did. I can’t even begin to imagine how you managed to screw this up before she started her first day of work. Now we will have to either redistribute her or fire her outright.” He shakes his head and looks back to his work. “I’ll have to speak with HR. I hope you’re pleased with yourself.”
My ears are burning, but I’m not about to let him win that easily. If anyone is going to fire Ella, it will be me, damnit. I scramble for something, anything, that will serve as a satisfactory explanation for my father.
He isn’t done. “Or,” he says lazily, “we can fire you, and keep her. In fact, I’m more inclined to go that route. She seems like a good worker with a strong head on her shoulders. I’m not worried she is going to come to work hungover each morning and have meaningless sex with her subordinates and god knows who else.”
“She doesn’t have any subordinates,” I grumble.
“Yet.”
I clench my fists and make a deep breath. “You’re not going to fire me, Father. That’s ridiculous. I run the company, if you’ll remember. And when I turn thirty, I’ll own it, too.”
My father remains still for a moment, and then he reaches into a desk drawer, removing a heavy-looking manila envelope. He tosses it on the desk in front of me.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“The conditions of your inheritance,” he says quietly. “I gave you a copy some time ago, but I think if you actually read it, all of it, you’ll find there’s a lot more at stake here than the company.”
I snatch up the envelope and remove the hefty contract. Of course, I’ve seen it before. I definitely haven’t bothered to read the entire thing cover-to-cover. It’s a million pages long and I have better things to do, after all.
“Page fifty-seven,” Maximilian says, as though reading my mind.
I flip to the page in question and read. And read. All the fine print, all the nitty-gritty details. There, in the middle of the page, is a clause I didn’t know existed. A clause which, had I seen it before, would likely have altered my life quite some time ago.
“This says if I’m not married by the time I’m thirty I won’t inherit Banks Industries.” I look at my father in complete disbelief. “Is this for real?”
“I suggest you keep reading,” Father growls forebodingly.
I do so, though my brain is running a mile a minute and it takes some time for the words to formulate themselves into concrete ideas in my head. After I’ve read about two pages worth, I look back up at my father. “It’s not just the company,” I say quietly.
“No.”
“It’s everything. The family fortune. The estate. I’ll lose everything.”
Father smiles humorlessly. “Unless you are married within the next ten months. Yes.” He stands and goes to the window, hands clasped behind his back. “I will own Banks Industries until I breathe my last breath, at which point your brother will inherit the company. Kevin has made it clear he does not want it, so Banks Industries will be turned over to our trust, assigned a new CEO, and the family name will be discredited and forgotten.”
“You can’t be serious,” I sputter. I feel a sudden wave of nausea come over me that doesn’t involve my hangover. “This is ludicrous. Y
ou really think me being married will signify … what? Settling down? Since when can a bachelor not run a successful business? Did you write this fifty years ago?”
“This clause has always been there,” Father snaps. “Since the beginning of the Banks empire. It was in my contract, and in my father’s, and in his father’s before that and so on. Again, if you’d bothered to read it, you would have known that.” I shut my mouth, but the urge to scream is still clawing its way up my throat. “The clause has less to do with you actually being married than it does with you getting your act together.”
“I have been running Banks Industries on my own for five years,” I say insolently. “What more evidence do you need of my act being together?”
“A lot more,” Father snaps. “You really think coasting is enough? And it is coasting, Max, don’t even try to deny it. You’re still partying every weekend, hungover every morning. Sleeping with every girl dumb enough to pay you attention. Embarrassing me and tarnishing the family name with each tabloid that catches you dicking around. This is not the sort of person to whom I will be passing everything I have worked damn hard for my entire life. And why should I?”
It feels as though there’s no longer any air in this room. I lean forward, my elbows on my knees, struggling to hear my father over the sound of blood rushing in my ears.
He isn’t finished. “You may be my son, but you are not a true Banks. And until you get married, clean up your act and start acting like a real grown-up, you won’t be. You have less than a year until your thirtieth birthday. I suggest you give everything I’ve said a good, long think.” He turns back to the window, his back to me.
I clench my fists on my knees and take a deep breath. It’s the only thing I can think of. It’s insane, but it just might work. “You’re mistaken, Father.”
He doesn’t move.
“It wasn’t just meaningless sex with Ella. In fact, I’m in love with her.”
This actually manages to astound him. He turns towards me, sunlight winking off the limited-edition Rolex on his wrist. “Is that so? I can’t imagine how that’s possible after knowing her less than twenty-four hours.”
