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Chrissy stepped into her office at an abnormally early hour, annoyed with herself for not buying a latte on the way in. No one was in the office yet, not even her assistant who arrived promptly each morning at eight. The whole office was unearthly quiet, and she couldn’t shake the sense she was sneaking in with plans on thieving anything she could lay her hands on.
She shook her head at the ridiculous notion. So, she was early. Big deal. She hadn’t slept last night, especially after the harrowing family dinner where her grandfather laid down the law that she was not to see Anthony Parks again.
It was a waste of time.
She had no intention of doing so.
The whole family seemed genuinely shaken by the whole ordeal. Her grandfather didn’t eat a thing, though he attributed that to Maria Parks’ lunchtime lasagna which, he said, rivaled anything his sainted mother prepared. Chrissy suspected, however, it wasn’t her great-grandmother’s lasagna he missed, but that of Anthony Parks’ grandmother, the woman stolen from her grandfather by Saks’ grandfather, though the circumstances how that happened apparently remained a taboo subject at the table. The only thing sure was that Pandolfo Serafini still held his grudge against the Parks family.
What a fucking mess!
A big part of Chrissy’s jumble of emotions was her ambivalence at being from such a twisted family. She loved her family but hated what they did. And she didn’t understand how otherwise-loving people could put misery on others for profit. It just didn’t make sense to her. But, she supposed, that was the reason Mafia men kept the details of their lifestyle from their wives and daughters.
Another part of her angst manifested from the lust Saks evoked in her. She’d never wanted a man as much. He was the shore to the tides of her passion which would inevitably and irrevocably flow—a magnetic draw regardless of the irrefutable logic of her mind. Not just lust. She wanted to give him her heart. To be with him. The fairytale wedding and happily ever after kind of life.
It was stupid.
There was no way getting involved with a member of a crime family was good for her.
Which only made her want him more.
Her conscience knew better, but her body stubbornly rebelled against her decision. Her heart ached with each beat, and her body warmed at thought of his.
It was torture.
For the first time in her life, she understood the songs of love and loss that musicians wrote and played.
The long breath she blew was part sigh, part release of the tension that coiled in her shoulders. Though her heart beat with a mournful thud she would get over this, over this man. There were tons of fish in the sea. All she had to do was find one that wasn’t a shark.
And sharks? Well, she had plenty of them circling—the president of her company, Drummond Walker, and her boss, Richard Hamilton, her prospective employer, James Pearson, and even Charles Grayson. All of them wanted something she wasn’t willing to give, but at this point her options were disappearing quickly.
She turned on her computer and went through her emails. One from James Pearson sat in the queue, marked with an exclamation point meaning “high importance.” Chrissy rolled her eyes. This man was as much a drama queen as her sister.
Ms. Serafini,
I hope you didn’t get the wrong idea at our last meeting.
Oh, no, thought Chrissy. I got exactly the right idea.
Finding a woman with your intelligence and skill set, as well as, if you allow me to add, your polished professional appearance, is quite rare. If you give me a chance, I hope to persuade you of that tomorrow night at dinner. Name the time and place, and I will be there.
Sincerely,
James Pearson
This man had it bad. What it was, Chrissy wasn’t sure.
Her phone rang, which was strange since it was only seven in the morning.
“Hello, Chrissy Serafini.”
“Chrissy!” effused Charles. “Aren’t you the go-getter. In the office at this time of the morning.”
“Good morning, Charles.”
“So, you’re going, right?”
“Going?” she said with all the innocence she could muster. There was only one reason he would call her. How did he know Pearson sent her an email?
“Have you read your email?” he asked with barely-concealed exasperation.
Chrissy checked and cursed under her breath. Pearson had cc’d Charles. Of course he would. It would be unethical otherwise, though she doubted Pearson cared much about ethics. “Yes, of course I have. And, no, I haven’t decided.”
“Chrissy,” said Charles in warning. It was the first unpleasant tone she’d ever heard from him. “I’m afraid that if you continue to be difficult about this, I can’t keep you as a client. Nor can I recommend you as a client to any others in my industry.”
Whoa. Now Charles was playing hardball. Or more like he slammed her against the wall instead of the ball. Threatening to blackball her? That was rough.
Unprofessional.
Cut-throat.
And so totally like her own family that she understood exactly where she stood. And what to do.
“You’re right,” said Chrissy, with ice in her voice. “I don’t deserve you as my representative.” They were conciliatory words but spoken in a tone meant to send a chill down the spine. Chrissy could play hardball, too. If Charles lost this lucrative deal it would look bad for him with his firm, something no head hunter could afford.
“Now wait,” said Charles in a gentler voice. “Let’s not be hasty.”
“I’m not, Charles,” said Chrissy. “What do you think it means to me to take off on a job around the world when my father is about to get open-heart surgery?”
“I’m sorry, Chrissy. I didn’t know. Of course, we’ll make sure you get time off for family emergencies. It’ll be in the contract.”
Having played this card, and Charles walking back his attitude, left Chrissy with little ammunition. Then she thought of one more card to play. “I’ll need my own assistant.”
“What?”
“Someone I can rely on to help me through my day. Say about $125,000 a year, plus expenses.”
“What?” At that last “what” Chrissy imagined that Charles’ head exploded.
“You can take it out of my salary, but the assistant thing is non-negotiable. I need to have someone to fill in so I can take care of family emergencies. Among other things. I run a good business. You know it. I’m not indispensable.”
“I’ll propose it, I guess.”
“Good. If he says yes to it, then I’ll have dinner with him and give him my final answer.”
“I can work with that.” He clucked. “But, Chrissy?”
“Yes?”
“No more bullshit. You keep adding more things, changing things. It might be a game to you, but men like James Paterson know how to play, too. Watch yourself. Tough is good, but thick-skulled is dangerous.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Chrissy. “Talk to you later.” She put the headset back in the cradle gently, though she was more annoyed than she wanted to admit. It seemed the only way out of her current troubles was taking James Pearson’s job offer, and she didn’t like the idea one bit.
A sudden noise in the outer office jolted her. She glanced at her computer and saw it was only seven- thirty. She got up and walked to the door and opened it. A woman was bent over Jess’ desk, riffling through her drawers. What Chrissy saw was a wriggling rear end in an obscenely tight red skirt that could only belong to one person.
“Chloe, what the hell are you doing?”
Startled, Chloe whirled toward Chrissy. “I, um, was looking for a pencil.”
Chrissy arched an eyebrow, unconvinced by Chloe’s thin excuse for violating Jess’ privacy. “Don’t you have the key to the office supply closet?”
“Um, yes. It’s just that it’s at the other end of the office, and—”
“Then get one there. Jess doesn’t use pencils.”
“Oh, okay,” she said weakly. She scuttled from Jess’ desk on stilettos that were too high for any office setting.
As she rounded the corner, ostensibly to walk to the supply closet, Jess stepped off the elevator. She carried the morning’s coffee in a carrier and Chrissy took it from her hands gratefully. “Aren’t you the early bird?” said Jess.
“What’s in the bag?”
“Cronuts. A little office bribery.”
“Bring them into my office. I don’t want to reward bad behavior.”
“Since when?” said Jess with an evil smile.
“Since I found Chloe going through your desk. Don’t you keep it locked?”
Jess frowned. “Of course, I do.”
Chrissy motioned for Jess to follow her into her office and she shut the door. “I hope you don’t keep confidential information in the desk.”
“Of course not. I’ve known Chloe’s a snoop since my second day here and I found her sniffing around my desk.”
“That’s good.”
“That doesn’t stop me from leaving breadcrumbs in it, though.”
“Breadcrumbs?”
“I learned this in my last job. I leave little pieces of stuff there, maybe a matchbook cover from a lowlife bar, or a ticket stub to an X-rated show, that sort of thing.”
“Why?”
“To get her going, that’s why. I love to see her face turn red when I look at her across the office. One day I left a dildo in my top drawer.”
“You didn’t.”
“Yep, then I put it in long paper bag and held it while I asked her to cover the phone while I went to the bathroom.”
“Dildo in hand?”
Chrissy imagined the red-faced look on hypocritical Chloe’s face while she stared at the dildo in the paper bag as Jess innocently asked her to cover the phones. It must have been priceless.
“Yep,” said Jess with a smile. “What’s she going to say? That she was going through a locked drawer and found it?”
“I had no idea you were this evil. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Plausible deniability, boss. I didn’t want you to get in trouble for my pranks.”
“Well, now I know,” said Chrissy. “And officially I must tell you that I highly disapprove of your behavior.”
“Yes, boss,” said Jess, with appropriate solemnity.
“Otherwise,” said Chrissy with a broad smile, “good job.”
Her phone rang again, and because Jess wasn’t at her desk she picked it up.
“Chrissy Serafini,” she said.
“Chrissy?” said Charles. “Good news. He agreed to the assistant. So, where’s the dinner going to be?”
