A horde of press surrounded Daniel as he entered the Ellington–Weston building. Microphones were shoved in his face and crossing his boundary level of comfort.
“Mr. Ellington, any comments on the Top Ten list?” a few of the reporters shouted.
Another asked, “What is your dating status? Are you proposing tonight to your long-term girlfriend?”
“No comment.” His body tightened and he quickened his pace, weaving his way through the crowd to the front security desk. He wondered exactly when dating someone casually for six months qualified as a “long term” girlfriend.
The term “girlfriend” bothered him more than the suggested duration. Daniel wanted to share his life with someone, but he feared Brandelynn was a far cry from what he sought. He gave a nod to the security officer, and the man buzzed him through.
“Sorry about the press, Mr. Ellington. Evidently, there is some sort of bachelor news article.” His hand waved dismissively to the crowd. “I asked them to leave, but, you know, freedom of the press.”
“Understood.” Daniel glanced back at the crowd, who still shouted questions at him. His stomach twisted, and he knew he needed to escape the sea of people. “Make sure they don't get past the lobby of the building.”
“Yes, sir?” The security guard studied him cautiously. “Are you all right, sir? You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine,” Daniel squeaked out. He took a quick deep breath, feeling his lungs fully expand, and his body slightly shiver. Crowds, especially when all eyes were on him, unnerved him.
Press conferences, company workshops, employee retreats… Work-related events were one thing. He could handle them. People were more interested in the announcement of the business news than with him personally, and he never felt like a target when representing his companies.
The security guard nodded. “Have a good day, sir.”
Daniel managed his way to the elevator. He took in a deep breath, enjoying the security and peace of the rest of the building. His racing heart rate slowed, and he wiped the sweat from his brow.
He was safe.
He now focused on the elegant, marble–tiled floors, the shiny metal elevator doors, and the soft, gentle music that played in the background. His surrounding centered him and brought him back to the present. He wasn’t a scared six-year-old boy, snatched from his parents. He was a grown man, and a powerful one at that.
This grand building was his haven, and he was the master of his domain.
The office complex showcased his latest accomplishment. He’d taken a small, nearly fading–into–the–distance company and, within just five years, made it into what was now listed as a Fortune 500. His nickname should be Midas, for he certainly had the golden touch.
Once upstairs in his corner office, and far away from the crowd downstairs, he found his coffee and newspaper. Everything in its place. Everything where it needed to be.
His body relaxed and he felt at home. Ms. Baxter remained on top of things, as usual, and it was time to get to work.
He removed paperwork from his briefcase, and before he could even ask for Ms. Baxter to come into the room, he smelled her perfume. He didn’t know the name of the fragrance, never cared to ask, but it was distinctly Deborah.
Already standing behind him, she greeted him. “Good morning, Mr. Ellington. Your ten o'clock appointment will be here in thirty minutes.” She walked closer to him and helped him off with his jacket. “I'll place Mr. Covington in the conference room once he arrives.” She walked to the wooden valet stand in the corner and put the jacket on the hanger.
Pleasantly professional. Calm and cordial. What was it about Deborah that centered Daniel and made him feel safe? For nearly twenty years, she had been his rock. She knew the structure of the office and seemed to anticipate his every move.
She set some paperwork on his desk and placed his coffee mug back on the coaster, her hips swaying as she moved effortlessly around his desk and tidied up.
Daniel’s father’s words echoed in his mind:“Never fish off the company pier.” It was the number-one rule his father had stressed when Daniel joined the business decades ago—one that he upheld no matter what.
He moved his gaze from her bottom and stared out the window instead. Ms. Baxter was a perfect work wife, and nothing more.
She could never be anything other than that.
Ever.
Still standing at the corner of his desk, she cleared her throat to get his attention— waiting for her next assignment.
This morning’s meeting was with the CEO of Pinksley Inc., a sizeable company, but not truly a competitor for Daniel’s business. Still a nice asset from a business acquisition, though.
“Ms. Baxter, I'll need…”
“Mr. Covington’s company's folder.” She gestured to Daniel’s desk, a teasing smile on her face. “I’ve already brought it in. As well as your paper, your coffee, and the little present we discussed this morning.”
Daniel took a seat and noticed a gift lying squarely on top of the folder. Its delicate red bow in place, and the gift card, already typed out with his sentiments ready for him. “Thanks for taking care of this.” He picked up the present and moved it aside.
The outside phone line rang, causing Ms. Baxter to walk toward the door. “I'll be right back, sir.”
He heard the familiar, “Mr. Ellington's office” greeting she always recited. She always sounded so professional on the phone, but today, irritation sounded in her voice.
“I'm sorry for the interruption, sir,” she said as she joined him back in his office.
He glanced at her. “Something wrong?”
In a mildly irritated tone, she said, “The phone keeps ringing. Evidently, there is a list…”
Holding up his hand, he stopped her mid-sentence. He understood how reporters were now distracting her. “I know. Try to keep the interruptions to a minimum.”
“Of course, sir.”
The press should be focused on the company's new software suite, not the stupid Top 10 Bachelor list. But he didn't have time for that right now. He had to focus on his ten o'clock meeting.
The outside phone rang again. Even though Daniel preferred it open, he said, “Please, shut the door.” He realized Ms. Baxter was already heading out of the room saying, “Of course, sir.”