Nick's Trouble

Can't Count

I should probably start working longer shifts at the coffee shop, so I can buy a few business outfits. I could wear casuals at Mr. Andrews' office, but I didn't want to give my new boss a chance to throw tantrums.

As I nervously walked down the corridor towards his office, my palms became sweaty.

Well no shit.

The last thing I wanted was someone shaking my hand during the summer.

Fist bumps should be considered professional.

Taking in a deep breath, I lifted my hand and knocked on the door, but there was no response.

"Ms. Stewart?"

I turned around to the voice and found the guy from yesterday. Trent.

He was a fairly tall guy with a nerdy vibe owing to his huge black-rimmed glasses. His hair was a nice shade of platinum, going well with his olive complexion.

"Mr. Sinclair will be here in a few minutes. You're asked to wait in his office. He will talk to you and after that, I'm supposed to show you around."

I nodded. "Okay."

"And—" he started, but then scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, "—I'm sorry about yesterday."

"Oh, that's okay." I gave him a little smile. "You did what you were supposed to do."

His lips pulled up into a smile. "So no grudges?"

At this, I let out a chuckle. "For making me sit in a very comfortable waiting room? No, I think I'm good."

He laughed but it was cut short when someone cleared their throat.

We turned our heads to the side and found Mr. Sinclair standing a few feet away from us, a frown sitting on his lips. He seemed to be in a shitty mood.

Oh God! Someone just had to piss him off on my very first day!

A little help, my lucky stars?

"Mr. Sinclair," Trent said.

"I told you to make her wait in my office," his gaze snapped to mine, causing me to gulp, "not stand here and chat with her."

"Uh, yes, Sir." Trent was nervously glancing at him.

And I wondered if Mr. Sinclair treated all his employees like that. Blake Andrews was so much better.

"Ms. Stewart, I'll join you in my office," he said.

Without thinking twice, I nodded and went inside his office, closing the door behind me.

He is one scary guy.

Letting out a breath, I settled on one of the chairs in front of his desk and looked down at my hands. A smile formed on my lips as I admired the ring on my right index finger.

My mom had given it to me when I had turned sixteen.

I removed it and slipped it back on. It was an old habit of mine to play with the ring whenever I was nervous or wanted to take my mind off something.

I took it off again and gasped when the ring suddenly slipped out of my hands. Before I could bend to retrieve it, it rolled under the desk.

"Ugh," I groaned, crouching down and trying to grab it. But the space between the floor and desk was very narrow on this side.

Looking at the door nervously, I quickly made my way to the other side of the desk and bent down.

There was enough space between the side drawers for me to crawl under the desk and get my ring.