Boardroom Attraction

ALEX

Monday came faster than I thought it would.

I check my reflection in the mirror one last time. The light-pink tweed skirt and matching jacket look amazing with my black patent-leather pumps.

My mother took me shopping for business attire a long time ago in the hope that I would find a good job. She has exquisite, and expensive, taste.

With my hair swept up into a topknot and very little makeup on, I hope I look the part of an assistant. Glancing at my cell phone, I quickly grab my purse and rush out the door before I’m late.

“Wow! Looking good, Alex,” Marcus says as I step onto the bus. “You got a job interview?”

“Nope, I already got the job,” I say. I give him a friendly wink before taking my seat.

I’m acting all confident, but on the inside I’m a bundle of nerves. Starting a new job is always nerve-wracking. I’m sure I can do the job. I can do anything I put my mind to.

But whether I’ll get along with my boss or whether my coworkers like me are unknowns.

Those are the things I worry about.

I’m notorious for having resting bitch face. My problem is, I don’t know how to schmooze. And honestly, I don’t want to waste the energy trying.

I show up on time, work hard, and don’t talk about people behind their backs.

That should be good enough, right?

Unfortunately, it’s not. And that’s what has me stressed.

Reaching my destination, I take a deep, cleansing breath before stepping off the bus.

“Knock ’em dead,” Marcus calls after me. We’re friends of a sort. I’ve been riding his bus route for the past two years, since Shayla and I became roommates.

Looking up at the tall glass building in front of me, I feel a case of the jitters coming on.

There are all types of professional men and women bustling about. I blend in among them as I fight my way into the building.

Walking straight ahead, I make my way to the information desk, located directly across from the entrance.

“Hello. My name is Alexandra Livingston,” I say, trying not to fidget. “I’m supposed to report for work today, per the instructions of Barbara Platt from Human Resources.”

A petite blonde woman with a beauty mark at the corner of her mouth smiles at me before checking her computer screen.

“Yes, here you are, Ms. Livingston. You’re to report to the receptionist, Helen Gold, on the twelfth floor. She’ll set you up with an employee ID badge.

“Here’s a visitor’s badge for now,” she says, handing me a plastic card. “You’ll need this for the elevators. They’re right through there.” The receptionist points to the right.

“Thank you.” I nod and head in that direction.

It’s busy, but I happen to get lucky and catch an elevator with just an older gentleman and a middle-aged woman on it.

As the doors close, I realize that there were more people waiting for the elevator, but they hadn’t attempted to get on this one.

Odd.

We stop on the fifth floor.

In walks a tall, handsome man with deep-brown skin and a closely shaved head. The man is thoroughly engrossed in his phone when he steps inside to stand next to me.

After a moment, he puts his phone away and looks up at me. When he smiles, my stomach clenches.

The guy edges closer.

“Are you new here?” he asks. His voice is smooth. Deep.

“It’s my first day,” I say.

He’s standing so close that the back of his hand brushes against my hip.

He raises a dark brow. “What good do you have to offer?”

The innuendo is blatant.

So is the space I create between us.

“Mace or a Taser?” I ask sweetly. “Which would you prefer?”

There’s a masculine chuckle behind me.

Tall-dark-and-dumb looks startled. He turns to see the older gentleman and woman behind us.

I guess he was so engrossed in whatever he was looking at on his phone that he hadn’t noticed them when he stepped onto the elevator.

“It seems that the young lady isn’t impressed with your pickup lines, Donald,” the older gentleman says. “Last time I checked, what you insinuated could be considered sexual harassment.”

“Sir, I apologize. I didn’t mean—”

Donald is interrupted by the older gentleman. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” he says.

Donald turns to me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

The look in his eyes is desperate, but not remorseful.

My gaze goes to the man with graying blond hair and sharp blue eyes. He’s tall, slender, and still quite handsome for a man possibly in his late fifties, early sixties.

“It’s okay.”

The relief is evident on Donald’s face. He tries to rush out of the elevator on the next floor, but the other man says, “My office. One hour,” before he can get away.

When Donald looks back over his shoulder, his expression is priceless.

“I have to say, I’m very impressed with the way you stood up for yourself, young lady. What’s your name?”

“Alexandra Livingston, sir.”

I stick out my hand and he grasps it firmly, shaking it. There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he smiles at me. Like he’s got some grand scheme forming in his head.

“Were you serious about the Taser and the Mace?” he asks.

“As a heart attack.”

He laughs and I find myself smiling too.

“You said that this is your first day?”

“Yes.”

“Who are you working for?”

“I’m not sure,” I say, feeling a little silly. “Barbara Platt hired me as an administrative assistant. She didn’t say who I’d be working for.

“I was just instructed to go the twelfth floor and report to the receptionist there.”

“Change of plans, my dear.” He grins at me and turns to the woman next to him. “Paula, call Barbara and let her know that Ms. Livingston will be reporting to the fifteenth floor.

“We’ve just found a new administrative assistant for Mr. Whitlock.”

Paula gasps and looks at me with pity.

I’m suddenly nervous. “Did I do something wrong?”

“On the contrary, dear. You’ve done everything right.” He looks as if he wants to pat me on the shoulder, but thinks better of it.

“I think you’re just the person we need as the Administrative Assistant to the COO.”

What in the world is going on here? Am I being promoted?

Oh, wait. I get it.

He probably thinks I’ll try to sue for sexual harassment. And he’s trying to butter me up.

It’s totally unnecessary. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. Well, until now.

“You don’t have to offer me a better position because of that creep,” I say. “I’m grateful for the opportunity I was already offered.”

“Trust me. It has nothing to do with Donald. And everything to do with you. The fact that you are trying to turn down a higher-paying position after you’ve clearly been wronged makes it even better.”

Are all the employees here certifiable?

First, Barbara hires me without an application or an interview. Now this guy promotes me before I’ve even started working.

Who the heck is this guy anyway?

Paula ends her phone call. “It’s been taken care of, Mr. Blandford.”

Mr. Blandford?

As in, Blandford Corporation, Mr. Blandford?

What are the flippin’ odds?

This explains why no one else wanted to get on the elevator. They knew exactly who he was.

I actually feel kind of sorry for that Donald guy now.

“We happen to be on our way up to the fifteenth floor for a meeting,” Mr. Blandford says. “Paula will show you where you need to go, Ms. Livingston.”

“Please, call me Alex.”

The elevator dings, opening onto the fifteenth floor.

“Paula, please show Alex where to go. I’ll meet you in the boardroom shortly.”

“Thank you for everything, Mr. Blandford.”

“It’s you I’ll be giving thanks to,” he says. Mr. Blandford winks at me, pivots, and heads in the opposite direction.

Why do I suddenly feel like I’ve been set up?