Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I stared at my food for a few seconds before I took another bite. “Yeah…”
Eight
Emerson
I was sitting at my desk typing an email when Janine got a phone call on the landline. “No, this is Janine. Sorry, who are you looking for? Oh, she’s my neighbor. Just give me a second to transfer you.” She hit the buttons to transfer before she hung up. “You’ve got a call, Emerson.”
My phone started to ring. “Who is it?”
“She didn’t say.”
I took the call. “Emerson Lane.”
A perky voice came over the phone. “Hello, Emerson. My name is Cleo. How are you?”
“Great. How are you?”
“Good.” She spoke with a smile in her voice. “I’m the Director of Concierge for the Trinity Building in Tribeca. I was wondering if we could get together today to discuss a possible job opportunity.”
There were a million questions going through my head at that moment. One, what made her call me? Two, how did she know where I worked? Three, what job opportunity was she referring to? “Uh… I’m flattered, but I’m currently employed.”
“I’m aware that you’re the Chief Editor at Astra Books. But I think you’re going to want to hear my offer. How about we meet today at the coffee shop right across the street? I’m in a black pencil skirt and white blouse.”
I didn’t want to say much more with Janine sitting right beside me. She seemed loyal, but I didn’t want her to tell Mark someone was trying to poach me. So, I decided it was better to talk somewhere else. “Sure. I’ll be there at four.”
“Great. I look forward to meeting you.”
I hung up.
Janine kept working on her computer. “What was that about?”
“Oh…nothing.”
I entered the coffee shop and spotted the woman in the outfit she described. She sat at a table near the window, her legs crossed, her brown hair in curls down her chest. She was middle-aged, maybe in her fifties. She was thin, with a petite waist and long legs. She had nice skin with a youthful glow. She seemed like a happy person even though she wasn’t smiling at the time.
When she saw me, her eyes filled with recognition, like she noticed the way I’d identified her. She smoothed out her skirt, and then extended her hand, plastering a nice smile on her face like she was a professional at smiling. “Emerson, lovely to meet you in person. I’ve got us two black coffees. They’re still warm.”
“That’s great.”
“And two muffins.” She gestured to the table. “Take a seat.” She sat down with straight posture, not using the back of the chair for support. Her arms rested on the table, and her hands came together. “Hope you like poppy seed.”
“I like anything with sugar. Thank you.”
“It’s a treat for me since my husband doesn’t have sweets in the house.”
“And you’re still married to him?” I teased.
Her smile turned soft, reaching her eyes like I’d genuinely made her laugh.
I took a drink of the lukewarm coffee and pulled my muffin close. She wasn’t intimidating in the least, but the situation made me tense, because I had no idea what she had to offer or how she even knew who I was.
“I appreciate your taking the time to meet with me. I’m sorry I called you at the office like that. I didn’t want to just physically walk in…thought that might cross a line.”
Physically coming to my desk to poach me from my job would definitely be ballsy. “What’s the position? You said you were from the Trinity Building, so you aren’t with a publisher?”
“No. I’m not in publishing at all. At the Trinity Building, we have a concierge team that takes care of all the residents.”
“Is it a hotel?”
“No. All the tenants own their residences. They pay a monthly fee so we can service them. You know, deliver their groceries, set up fresh flowers, take care of their dry cleaning…everything you can think of.”
“And you want to offer me a position as a concierge?” The idea of waiting on a bunch of rich people didn’t seem appealing at all. My passion was for the written word, not delivering groceries to a billionaire snob. The only wealthy person I’d been around was Derek Hamilton, and he was enough to handle as it was.
“Actually, no.” Her fingers locked together on the table, and she didn’t touch her muffin, even though the top had chunks missing. “I thought you would be a great personal assistant to Derek Hamilton.”
I hadn’t been sure what she would offer me when I decided to meet her, but it definitely wasn’t that. I couldn’t stop the laugh from erupting from my lips. “Sorry? What?”
She continued to wear her professional smile. “He told me you’ve really helped him get started on that book, and he actually let you touch his exams, which is saying something. He’s needed an assistant for years now, but he’s a very stubborn and paranoid man, so he’s never entertained the idea. But since he has had such a pleasant experience with you, I thought you might be a good fit.”