| No Love Attached |
chapter four : the office perv
•••
There's nothing quite like that new-office-smell. It's almost as enticing as the scent of a brand new car. But when it's your office, it just feels more rewarding.
As I stood in the middle of a huge room with windows that took up an entire wall, that's how I felt. There was a sleek black desk to one side of the room, which held my laptop and some books on top of it. To the other side was a large bookshelf filled with -- you guessed it, more books. The books on the desk were manuscripts that needed to be read, while the ones on the shelf were ones we published and became huge sellers.
I earned this. This penthouse office was mine. It was very similar to my office back in New York, but something was different here. Not only did my office face the heart of London instead of busy Manhattan. But this felt sweeter. More accomplishing for some reason. Maybe because it was my idea. Our dream. And I made it happen.
My heels clicked against the black hard-wooded floors with every step I took. A few yards down the hall, past a couple of other offices, was Penney's office. Penney and I met in college, both majored in literature, and then ended up interning and working at the same firm.
She probably wouldn't have been asked by the board to come to London if it wasn't for me taking her, though. Penney isn't as high up in the company as I was. Since her work ethic was similar to how it was in college: binge drinking and blowing people for their homework.
Before I got to Penney's office, I was stopped by a tall man's stature. To my surprise, I looked up to see one of my bosses. Mr. Alec James. Co-owner of the publishing house. He and Josh's dad were the only people who were above me.
Alec was a little younger than Mr. Lewis. But his salt and pepper colored hair and a certain charisma about him, told me he wasn't exactly young. Probably late forties, early fifties. Meanwhile Josh's father, Matthew was well into his sixties.
What was he doing here? He was barely a part of the company. All he really did was show up once every couple of months for a meeting and sign everyone's paychecks. He's always used his undeniable charm and flirted with me, but I didn't take it personally. As he literally flirted and had banged almost everyone in the office.
I frowned, knowing Matthew didn't trust me to do this on my own and probably sent James to check up on me.
"Mr. James," I greeted him in a professional manner.
"Miss. Larson," he spoke in the same tone as I did, although his eyes glistened with mischief.
"Let me guess, Matthew thought I needed help? Which, I don't."
His bright smile flashed before he spoke. "I know you don't, Vera. But Matthew's old school. Doesn't think an intelligent young woman like yourself could get an office running. Of course, he's wrong."
"Well, I appreciate that --" I started, but was quickly interrupted by him again. And because he's technically my boss, I didn't call him out for it.
"But that doesn't mean I won't just stick around for a few weeks to make sure things run smoothly and keep Matthew happy. Don't worry, I'll stay out of your hair," he chuckled. "Unless you want me in it, of course."
Okay. Now that one was just asking for it, buddy. "Excuse me? Yes, please stay out of it. In fact, stay as far away as possible from it. We don't need me reporting you for sexual harassment, do we?"
His smile only grew larger, "Self respect, strength, and balls. I think you'll do just fine running this ship by yourself."
And with that, he walked away without a care in the world. Probably to his monstrous office space. I couldn't tell if he was testing me or if he was actually just that much of a pig. Either way, he left a sour taste in my mouth. Something he's done before after my rare encounters with him. Josh had always told me he was bad news and would try to sleep with anything that had a pulse.
Knowing he was planning on sticking around for a few more weeks left me filled with dread and annoyance. One brief encounter with him and I could already taste vomit making it's way up my throat. I shook off whatever disgust I felt at the moment, and went back on my way to Penney's office.
Her's had resemblance to mine only it was a great deal smaller. There she was leaning back in her swivel chair, pretending she was actually doing work.
"Jesus Christ, did you see the office perv is here?" Slamming the door behind me, I sat on the other chair at the other side of her desk.
"Ooh, we have an office perv? Is it Kent from the mail room? I know, I only met him this week, but I got weird predator vibes." She immediately leaned over her desk and whispered as if she was telling the juiciest piece of gossip she's ever heard.
"No, dumbass! Alec James is here."
Her dark blue eyes widened a bit. "Oh shit. Ew. What is he doing here? Are we doing something really wrong or really right?"
"I have no idea. Matthew sent him, probably because I haven't found one thing to publish yet." My head shook with frustration.
"Well, on the bright side, I found a book for us," she pulled open one of her drawers and slapped a fairly thin manuscript onto the desk. "It's not Pulitzer Prize winning, but with another round of editing, I think we can do it. It's pretty good."
The manuscript had its title "The Tale of a Crazed Girlfriend", written in small letters at the center of the page.
I skimmed through a few pages. My eyes caught a few good jokes and a lot of relatable statements.
"It's very Bridget Jones," she chimed in again.
After thinking it over for a second, I decided we do it. Why not? I mean, it'll sell.
"Okay. Hook the writer up with the best editor you have and we'll get it moving. Thank you, you really saved my ass."
That should get Matthew off my case a bit. A good, funny chick-lit will sell. Most women are willing to read anything with other women who are struggling with men just like they are. That they're not alone in their rom-com quest for true love.
At least that's what our surveys show.
"Well, Alec is really hot in a fine wine kind of way."
"Don't ever compare him to wine. That's the only thing I love at the moment." I threatened, half jokingly. But it was mostly truthful, because A.) wine is amazing. B.) he is not.
I went back to my office, starting to go through the mile-high pile of manuscripts.
None particularly interesting or eye-catching-- wait. For some reason, one average sized stack of papers caught my attention.
My eyes lingered on the title for a moment, unable to move. Complete frozen, dead in my tracks. I must have looked like a deer in headlights. My mind raced, forming thousands of thoughts as to why this book ended up in this pile. Why now?
I traced my fingers over the title one last time before I carefully placed the book in my desk drawer.
A diamond hidden amongst glitter. A gem that was meant to shine for no one's eyes except my own.
•••