“Reasons for your conclusion?” Gabriel Bishop asked, making edits to another document as he spoke, his strokes sure, the red ink like blood on the page.
It was easier to speak when he wasn’t looking at her. “I’ve seen three or four of the e-mails he exchanged with Mr. Hill.” Bernard Hill had been terrible about saving crucial e-mails, but Anya had forwarded Charlotte the odd one to add to the file. “It’s obvious if you read between the lines. He says things like ‘I’m sure we can come to a compromise. I know how useful the land would be to Saxon & Archer, and I’m a reasonable man.’”
Her new boss put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, his attention now fully on her. “I see. Did Hill explore any other options on the parking situation?”
God, it was hard to think when the force of his personality was smashing against her senses. Lowering her gaze to the knot of his tie again, she said, “No,” then bit her lip and went with her gut. It might be twisted into a pretzel by now, but since he hadn’t fired her yet… “I did once see a memo from Brent Sinclair”—a very junior member of staff—“that suggested we implement a complimentary shuttle system from a major commercial parking lot about fifteen minutes away.”
A frown from the man on the other side of the desk. “I haven’t seen that memo. Forward it to me.”
Having already popped open her laptop, Charlotte was able to quickly locate and forward the memo, and after Gabriel scanned it, he asked her countless more questions about other ongoing situations. She barely had time to breathe for the next two hours. She certainly didn’t have time for nerves. The man’s mind was a steel trap, and he expected the same from her. How he even knew to ask the questions, some of them incredibly detailed and obscure, she didn’t know.
She answered everything as best she could, having to access the electronic records system for the more intricate details. Just when she thought they were done, he asked her how she’d book a last-minute Friday business trip to Saxon & Archer’s Sydney offices for him, with a dinner party thrown for corporate partners upon arrival.
Charlotte blinked but managed an answer; she’d handled such details multiple times. Anya usually drafted up what she needed, and Charlotte made it happen. Maybe, she thought suddenly, T-Rex intended to make her Anya’s official assistant. Not her dream job, since she’d be stuck in an office near the condescending Anya all day, but better than being unemployed.
“Enough.” Gabriel Bishop glanced at his watch. “Tell Anya to get Sinclair up here.”
Charlotte escaped as quickly as possible, sneaking away for fifteen minutes to go grab a stabilizing coffee from her favorite café half a block over. Walking around the entire block to calm herself, she returned to her desk to find an e-mail from Anya requesting a concise summary of a labor dispute the previous CEO had ignored for well over half a year.
The other woman had added: p.s. Guess you haven’t been demoted to being the tea lady just yet.
Relieved at the normality of the request and of Anya’s bitchiness, Charlotte knuckled down to work.
HAVING SENT SINCLAIR OFF to draft a more detailed breakdown of his plan after grilling the younger man and confirming the strength of his idea, Gabriel considered the mouse who’d been in his office not long ago. Ugly brown suit, soft blond hair that was in a bun today, and clear hazel eyes shielded behind the lenses of her wire-rimmed spectacles, Charlotte Baird did her best to disappear into the woodwork.
What Gabriel had discovered today was that the mouse wasn’t only hardworking but was also highly perceptive and had a keen intelligence. In the miniscule fractions of time in which she forgot to be terrified of him, she’d… sparkled. Like there was a brilliant light deep inside her, stifled by a crippling lack of confidence.
An intriguing mouse was Ms. Baird.
Gabriel found himself interested, and he’d never before found a mouse interesting.
Setting aside the problem posed by having an employee who was clearly in the wrong position for her skill set, he turned his attention from the mouse to the flashy bird of paradise.
“Anya,” he said into the intercom. “Come into the office. And bring your laptop.”
FEELING AS IF SHE’D been through the wars, Charlotte ate a whole bag of chocolate raisins at her desk that evening while finishing up some work for Anya. Her brain felt like it had the consistency of noodle soup.
It wasn’t the work that had exhausted her. No, that had been hectic but interesting. It was the stress of not knowing whether she’d still have a job at the end of the week. Anya’s “tea lady” comment had been pure spite, but given Charlotte’s abysmal interviewing skills, she’d be lucky if future employers even trusted her to make tea.
That morose thought was still uppermost in her mind when Molly called at seven to ask if she’d like to grab dinner down at the Viaduct. “Yes!” she said to her friend, and decided then and there that she’d put the whole employment situation out of her head for the next few hours.
She did slip up and mention the fact she thought Gabriel was a T-Rex, which Molly found hysterical, but her news about work drama paled in comparison to Molly’s bombshell. After deciding on dessert before dinner, the two of them walked down to sit by the water, ice creams in hand as they waited for a super yacht to come in. That was when Molly confessed the aftermath of a cocktail party they’d attended the previous Friday night.