Again, that wave of familiarity washes over me, like I’ve seen her move just like that before. It’s so overwhelming that I continue to stare out the open office door for at least another five minutes, grasping at every straw of my memory to find where I may have seen her.
She’s so beautiful, maybe she’s a model. Maybe I've seen her face in an advertisement or something. Novice models usually have to work more than one job while their careers are just taking off. Or maybe we hired her for a campaign. That could explain it . . .
Shaking my head, I sink back down at my desk and open up the manila folder, staring dejectedly down at the papers spread before me. Even though I try to focus on my work, the numbers and projections and strategies just seem to float up into the air and swirl around my eyes, like I’m reading some other language instead of English.
Maybe it’s because I slept in my office, or maybe it’s because I haven’t had my morning coffee yet, but I just feel so out of sorts.
I fold my arms over my desk, resting my forehead against the creased fabric of my suit. For the moment, I don’t even care that my door is open and my staff members might get a glimpse of me like this. Here, in the shadow of the crook of my arm, everything seems much less daunting. Without being able to see time passing by, the day becoming longer and longer, it feels like I have forever to figure out a plan for the nonprofit.
For a while I pensively mull over what pitch I might throw toward my investors to keep them on board the project for just a little while longer, but soon my thoughts turn to Chloe and her familiar stare.
Why am I wasting time thinking about her?
I should be focused on so many other important things. Now isn’t the time to be caught up in women.
Straightening up, I adjust my tie and lightly pat my palms against my stubbled cheeks. I reach toward my cell to text Chloe to bring me a razor and shaving cream as well only to realize that I hadn't gotten her number.
Shaking my head, I bend down back over my papers and return diligently to work even through my coffee-less haze. At the top of my to-do list now rests the simple command: get Chloe’s number.
And I can’t manage to convince myself that my reason for noting it is entirely professional.
Chapter 6
Chloe
“Wait, wait, wait, Clo!” Stacy groans through the phone, her voice reedy and distant. “What are you saying? You’re so angry it’s hard to understand. Where are you?”
“I’m on my way to Tribeca for a freaking croissant! Can you believe that?”
“Why are you going to Tribeca? You can get a croissant anywhere. You know that, right?”
“I do, but Donovan apparently doesn’t.”
“Donovan? As in Donovan Dunn?”
“Yeah, I’m going to be his secretary, apparently. I can hardly believe it. I thought I was going to be some lobby receptionist or something but I might as well be his personal assistant.”
“Oh my God, Chloe, you saw Donovan?” Morgan interrupts, snatching Stacy’s cell phone and clutching it to her ear. “What was he like? What did he say? Tell me everything! Did he mention me at all?”
“He was a total jerk! He ordered me around like I’m an intern or something, not a college graduate working as a professional.”
“Well . . .” Stacy’s voice again drifts from the receiver; she has apparently reclaimed ownership of her cell. “You are working as a temp, Clo. You’re not exactly one of his right-hand men.”
“Not yet,” I snap before I have a chance to catch myself. “But I’ll be lucky if I’m able to last another day without going off on him. I’ve only spent a few minutes around him and he’s trying my patience something fierce.”
“Listen, Chloe, he’s probably just irritated that you blew him off last night. Oh, Morgan wants me to tell you that she was right about you being better off sleeping with him. I kind of agree.”
“No, she is definitely not right! If he is acting like this just because I rejected him last night then I was right not to sleep with him. I can’t believe how unprofessional he’s being. I mean, this is Donovan Dunn we’re talking about. He’s so well-known and respected in the advertising business. Where does he get off treating his employees like this?”
I can see Stacy’s frown even as she speaks. “Well, did he say anything about last night?”
I look both ways then dart across the street, a car horn blaring at me as it misses me by inches. If Donovan hadn't asked me to go all the way across town for his suit and breakfast in such an unreasonable amount of time I wouldn’t have to jaywalk. But I have no idea how I’m supposed to make it back as it is. I curse him silently, hoping he stubs his handsome toe on his desk the next time he stands up.
Wait, did I just compliment his toe?
I’ve never seen his feet.
Ugh. Chloe, you’ve got to focus on your rage here.
“Clo?” Stacy prompts.
I’d almost forgot I was still on the phone. “Donovan didn't say a word about last night. In fact, he barely even looked at me.”
To be honest, it felt as though he didn’t even see me the entire time I was in his office. I had to tell him my name twice.
Could it be possible that he doesn’t remember me from last night?
I’m not sure whether to be humiliated or relieved. Maybe he just goes around hitting on every single girl that walks into his line of vision.
It’s a sobering thought.
Could this really be the CEO of my dream company?
The one that I’d always dreamed to work for, the one that I’d screamed for delight for when I got the call that I was going to be their secretary? How could I have looked forward to this so much only to realize now that Donovan Dunn wasn’t someone to be admired? He was just a jerk—plain and simple.
Stacy gives a faint sigh, her breath crackling over the speaker of my antiquated cellphone. It was more of a brick than one of the sleek types both Stacy and Morgan have—probably why my battery is always dying. A new phone is definitely on my lists of purchases with my first paycheck if I can manage to keep this job.
“That’s weird, Chloe. I don’t know what to tell you,” Stacy says. “You can handle this though. You’re a smart, driven girl. Just keep being you and he’ll loosen up at some point.”
“I know, I just wanted to vent. This whole morning has been awful. He chewed me out for being late, too.”
“That sucks,” Stacy says gently.
“Thanks for listening to me. If I didn't call you I think I might’ve lost my temper with him when I got back to the office. As frustrated as I am, I really don’t want to get fired my first day on the job, not after wanting this for so long.”
“Clo, you know you can call me anytime. You and Morgan’s keep me entertained with your drama through my boring lectures.”
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “Well at least someone is getting entertainment out of this.”
My mind drifts back to last night. It was so crowded and dark in the bar. I guess it’s not really that big of a shock that Donovan doesn't recognize me.
Now that I think about it, Donovan looked like he was wearing the same suit he’d been wearing last night.