Back To Good

Chapter Two

Once I left my father's office, I rushed back to mine to look over the client information. Coffee was long forgotten, unfortunately. But after I made my way through the file, I sat at my desk in a shock. The back of my skull was pressed into the headrest of my chair, and my eyes were closed as I willed away the panic attack that was developing. I was so tempted to march right back into my father's office and demand to be taken off the case. There was no way in hell he was giving me this job.

For some reason, I just knew mom had something to do with this. I loved my mom to death, and I knew she was excited that I was working for dad's company, but to be involved in picking my first client? I just wanted to shake my damn head. I placed my head into my hands after I stared with bleary eyes at the name.

Joey Carino.

Fingers at my temples, I tried to rub the stress from the headache that was fast approaching migraine status. When I first opened the folder and saw his name, my heart sped up to tachycardia speeds. Out of the thousands of stars in the world, this was the one I got.

He's got to be fucking joking.

Tossing the file on my desk, I finally wandered into the kitchen to grab that elusive Cup O'Joe I so desperately needed. If we'd had Bailey's or Jameson in the building, I would've spiked the coffee to calm my jittery nerves. Leaning up against the counter, I stirred cream into my cup, lost in my own world when Andrew Grant came in. He had been my dad's right-hand man since the company started in the eighties, and was a big cheerleader in my corner. They'd gone to university together, and he'd been a fixture at Casa Banks for as long as I'd been alive.

He was divorced with no kids, currently playing the field. Most women loved him, more for his British accent than for the great person he was. To me, he'd always be Uncle Andrew. He mentored me during college breaks, and when I interned during the summers. He also had me sit in client meetings with him, which, for interns, was highly unusual. To some it might seem like special treatment, but he made me work my ass off for his respect. In turn, he was a great teacher, and I'd always respected him.

"You shouldn't hog the coffee machine, you know." He looked at me meaningfully.

Glancing around, I realized I was standing right in front of the machine, still lost in my thoughts. I slid to my left but remained deep in thought while Andrew prepared his coffee.

"Dad called me into his office this morning," I said, staring at the back of Andrew's pinstriped suit. He was slightly peppered with gray at the temples, but it looked good on him, distinguished. He was extremely attractive for an older guy.

Andrew nodded his back still to me. Finished making his coffee, he turned around, his eyes flickering to the lip I was chewing. With an aggravated sigh and an arched brow, he asked, "Are you going to spit it out, or do I have to guess?"

I smiled at his accent. It was always so much more British early in the morning. "He gave me my first client today," I mumbled, my gaze dropping to my coffee.

He clucked his tongue after taking a long sip of his coffee; his eyes softening like my dad's did earlier. "Getting your first client is equally exciting and terrifying. You've done well with the clients while working with me. What's making you so nervous?"