“He sounds like he might be one of those bosses that expects you to be on the clock all the time.”
“Yeah,” Isabella grimaced. “I bet you that’s why he’s paying you so much. Aren’t you making like ten grand a month?”
“Yeah …” Dang. This already sounded a bit nerve-wracking. Some of my excitement was starting to fade.
“What else does it say?”
“It says the names of some coffee shops where he likes to get his coffee. A bakery where to pick up his croissants. To pick up his croissants? What?” I looked up at my friends. “Is this a joke?”
“It doesn’t sound like it, girl. You have heard he’s difficult to work for, right?”
“Yeah, but I’m a secretary, not his girl Friday.”
“I don’t know about that.” Isabella shook her head. “But just think, you’ll be able to pay off your student loans faster, right?”
“Yeah. And I mean, I guess I can live with these rules as long as he’s nice and he’s friendly and we get on well. Plus I’ve seen photos of him online, and he looks gorgeous. So he can’t be that bad, right?”
“Hopefully,” Isabella said but she didn’t look convinced. “Good luck, girl.”
“Thanks.” I bit my lip. “I think I’m going to need it.” I quickly closed my email and then looked down at my too-sexy power suit. “Okay, back to the drawing board,” I said. “I need to figure out an outfit that is going to fit the mousy librarian description because this sure isn’t it.”
“You can do it, girl. And why don’t you wear your glasses as well?” Emma interjected. “I mean, I know you prefer to wear your contacts, but nothing says mousy librarian like glasses.”
“Yeah,” Isabella agreed. “And maybe put your hair up in a bun.”
“Glasses and a bun? And I guess no heels, huh? I’ll wear my sandals.”
“You can’t wear sandals to work.”
“True. I guess I’ll wear flats.”
“Yeah, wear that ugly pair that you got the other day.”
“What ugly pair?” I glared at her.
“You know, the ones that your mom gave you.”
“Oh, yeah. The Doctor Scholl’s?”
“Yeah, them.”
“I guess so.” I made a face. “All of a sudden, I’m not feeling that excited about this job, guys.”
“It’ll be okay, Abby,” they said in chorus, but I could tell from the expression on their faces that they didn’t really believe it.
Chapter 2
Abby
* * *
“Ugh … who the hell is calling me?” I groaned as I reached for my ringing phone. I glanced at the time. It was 6:02 a.m. What the hell? “Hello?” I yawned, about to go off on my random caller.
“Is this Abby Waldron?” a deep voice asked.
“Yeah, who is this?” I leaned back in my pillow wondering if I would be able to fall back asleep. I’d set my alarm for seven a.m., so it didn’t really leave me much time to get any more beauty sleep in.
“This is your worst nightmare, Ms. Waldron.”
I sat up then. “Is this some sort of prank? Who is this?”
“This is your boss, Mr. McAllister, and your first day is already off to a bad start.”
“Uhm, what?” I rubbed my eyes in confusion. “Isabella, are you on the call? Is this a prank? Are you using one of those weird voice changers?”
“I don’t know who Isabella is, and no, Ms. Waldron, this is not a prank. This is your boss.”
“Uhm, it’s six a.m. I’m not sure why you’re calling me.” I was flustered now. I didn’t think it was a prank.
“It’s actually 6:05 now.” He sounded pissed. “You were supposed to call to wake me up at six.”
“What?” I blinked. What the hell was he talking about?
“Your first duty of the workday is to wake me up at six a.m. And you’ve failed.”
“I didn’t even know—”
“Didn’t you receive your first-day packet?” He sounded annoyed.
What the hell was his problem? He should have been congratulating me on taking the job. Instead of berating me, he should have been sending me flowers or a first-day muffin basket or something.
“Uhm, no…wait, maybe.” I sighed. “I did receive an email last night.” I hadn’t read past the first attachment as I’d been so focused on my first-day outfit. Shit! “But I mean, what’s the issue? You obviously already woke up without me.”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, you’re obviously already up. You woke me up. And I didn’t ask for a wake-up call.”
“You’re supposed to call me to wake me up and fill me in on all my appointments for the day.”
“Every day?” I muffled a groan. Okay, it was official. This job was going to suck.
“What part of your job description and schedule did you not understand?”
“Uhm, I don’t believe I received an accurate schedule, or I would have been on top of it, Dylan.”
“What did you just say?”
“I said, I don’t believe—”
“It’s Mr. McAllister,” he cut me off. “Make sure you’re in the office by seven with my coffee and croissant.”
“But it’s 6:10 now, I don’t even—”
But he’d already hung up. Jerk! Dylan McAllister was a jerk. I hated him and hadn’t even met him yet. This was not going to be the job of my dreams. I should poison his coffee—but then he’d most probably make me taste test it first and then I’d just kill myself.
I let out a small scream into my pillow before rolling out of bed. I grabbed my phone and searched for the email I’d received the night before. If I was going to get his coffee and croissant, I had to know exactly what he wanted. I frowned as I looked at the addresses of the two stores. They were at least 45 minutes apart. The croissant place was in the Upper West Side and the coffee shop was close to Wall Street, which was close to the office. How the hell was I supposed to have a shower, put on my makeup, go uptown and then back downtown and get to the office, all within 45 minutes? It wasn’t going to happen. There was no way that it was possible. Even if I had a helicopter. I headed towards the bathroom and jumped into the shower. Not that I was able to enjoy it; I literally had time for a lick and a scrub before I had to get out.
By the time I made it out of the apartment in my long navy skirt and loose white blouse, I had twenty minutes left to pick up my new boss’s coffee and croissant and get to the office. I couldn’t believe this was part of my job description. Couldn’t he get his own coffee?
As I walked down the street to the subway, I checked out my reflection in one of the store windows. I looked frumpy and dowdy. My hair was piled on the top of my head in a tight bun, my glasses were thick, and I had on minimal makeup. I looked almost Victorian, and no runway in the world would have allowed me to strut my stuff in this outfit. I sighed as I looked at my phone. I had no time to get the coffee or the croissant. I was about to cross the street when I saw a halal food cart open on the corner. I hurried over and pulled out my wallet. I frowned as I took out a $20 bill. How was I going to be getting paid back for all these coffees and croissants? He wasn’t paying me enough to buy all of his meals.