Siren looked down at her lap for a long time. When she looked up, she had tears in her eyes and nodded. “You’re right. It didn’t feel right when he gave me the job. It felt like I hadn’t earned it…because I didn’t.”
“I’m not going to pretend I’m totally innocent. You know the mailroom won’t ship anything they receive after three o’clock until the following day. I’ve thrown my share of smiles and batted my damn eyelashes at George to get things out at four thirty. But be careful around men in positions of power who give you something you didn’t earn—they’re going to expect you to earn it after the fact, in a way you won’t like.”
“Thanks, Ireland.”
“Anytime.”
An hour later, my desk phone rang, and the name on the caller ID surprised me. Speaking of men in power…Grant Lexington flashed on the display. I shut my laptop and leaned back in my chair as I picked up the phone. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I was just calling to see how things were going—that you settled back in okay.” His deep voice was even raspier on the phone than in person. Despite the lecture I’d given Siren earlier, here I was thinking Hmmm…I’d like to hear that voice late at night when my hands are under the covers.
I tamped down that thought and instead went with being difficult. “Did you call any other employees that don’t work directly for you today?”
“Only the ones that sent me drunk emails, and I stupidly gave them back their jobs anyway.”
I smiled. “Touché.”
“How are things going?”
“Fine. No one seems too disappointed that Bickman is gone, and the show went off without a hitch this morning.”
“It was a good show.”
“You watched?”
“I did.”
“Do you always watch the six o’clock news?”
“Not normally, no.”
“So you watched it today because…”
The line went silent; he wasn’t going to fill in the blank for me. Hmm… Interesting. He could have easily said he watched it to make sure things went smoothly. Or he watched it because he’s the damn boss, and he felt like it. But his lack of a reason made me think he’d watched it just to watch me—and not for professional reasons.
Or maybe I was reading too much into things and that’s what I wanted to think.
“Anyway…” he said. “I was also calling to invite you to be part of a new committee I’m chairing.”
“Oh? What kind of committee?”
He cleared his throat. “It’s…uh…for improving the workplace for women.”
“You’re chairing a women’s workplace initiative?”
“Yes. Why does that surprise you?”
“Ummm… Because you’re not a woman.”
“That’s a pretty sexist statement. Are you saying a man can’t be involved with something to foster a better work environment for women?”
“No, but—”
“If you’re too busy…”
“No, no, no. Not at all. I’d love to be part of it. What can I do? When does the committee meet?”
“My assistant will get back to you with the details.”
“Oh. Okay. That sounds great. Thank you for thinking of me.”
“Yes. Alright. Well, then...goodbye, Ireland.”
He hung up sort of abruptly. But it was just as well, because I liked talking to him way too much.
Chapter 6
* * *
Grant
“Millie!” I shouted without getting up from my desk.
My assistant rushed into the office. “Yes, Mr. Lexington?”
“I need to start a new committee.”
Her brows knitted. I avoided committees like the plague, and here I was telling her I wanted to start one. “Okay…what kind of committee, and who will be involved?”
I shook my head and grumbled the answer. “The focus of the group is to improve the workplace for women.”
Millie’s eyebrows jumped.
Yeah. I know. I’m fucking shocked, too.
“Okay...” she said hesitantly, like she was waiting for the punch line. “Do you have committee members already picked out?”
I waved my hand. “Get a bunch of women. I don’t care who they are. And maybe my sister Kate. She loves to have meetings.”
“You don’t care who the women on the committee are?”
“No.” I picked up a pile of papers and shuffled them, trying to pull off casual. “Maybe invite Ireland Saint James to be part of it.”
“Ireland? The woman who sent you the decapitated flowers?”
Well, when she said it like that, it sounded a little nuts to create a committee out of thin air and invite someone who cut the heads off of the expensive flowers I sent her and walked out on our lunch date before we’d even ordered.
I sighed. “Yeah, her.”
“When would you like me…”
“Soon.”
“Do you have an agenda in mind for this committee’s first meeting?”
“Women’s shit. I don’t know. You must know better than me. Pull something together.”
Millie looked like she was seconds away from walking over and feeling my forehead to see if I had a fever.
Maybe that’s what it was. Maybe I was sick instead of losing my mind? It damn well better be one or the other. I dragged a hand through my hair. A committee on women’s initiatives? I wanted to be part of that almost as much as I wanted someone to grip my nuts in their fist and twist. Yet here I was, apparently spearheading the group.
What the fuck?
Ireland Saint James. That’s what the fuck. In my entire life, I’d never had to go out of my way to talk to a woman, yet this woman had me calling her to check how her day was going and then inventing a fucking committee when she asked the reason for my call. Stress, too much work—it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility that I could be experiencing a breakdown.
While I debated a quick trip to a therapist, my assistant was still standing in my office, looking at me like I had two heads. I picked up a file and looked at her pointedly.
“Do you need anything else from me to get it started?”
“Umm... No, I don’t think so.”
“Good. Then that’ll be all.”
Millie stopped in my doorway and turned back. “The mail came. Would you like today’s letter—”
“Throw it out,” I barked.
“I’ll get right on it. And don’t forget about the photo shoot tonight.”
The confused look on my face told her I had no fucking idea what she was talking about, so she filled in the blanks.
“You have an interview and photo shoot for Today’s Entrepreneur magazine. It was scheduled a few months ago, and it’s on your calendar.”
Shit. Photo shoots and interviews were right up there with committees on women in the workplace on my list of crap I had zero interest in being part of. “What time?”
“Four thirty. At Leilani.”
I looked at my watch. Great. I had an hour to finish up six hours of work.