Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 14211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 71(@200wpm)___ 57(@250wpm)___ 47(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 71(@200wpm)___ 57(@250wpm)___ 47(@300wpm)
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
FORD
Coffee in hand, I step into the office, following the same routine I do every morning. I smile as I greet the receptionist, Mrs. Smyth, and she gives me a wave from her desk. My colleagues are going through their own morning routines at their desks as I make my way to my own office at the back of the Finance floor. I settle into my leather office chair, cracking my knuckles as my computer starts up.
I load up my emails, calendar, and spreadsheets, though I refuse to look at them until I finish my coffee. I may be the head of Finance, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy looking at the lists of numbers without caffeine in my system.
I already know my schedule by heart since meetings and deadlines are set weeks, if not months, in advance, so I only give the calendar a cursory glance. I go still, coffee halfway to my mouth. My eyes flick back to the calendar, sure I’ve imagined the new meeting at 9:30 today. That definitely wasn’t there when I left work last Friday.
Setting my coffee down, I click on the appointment to bring up the meeting information. I can’t stop the grin that spreads over my face as I realize who has scheduled it.
“Faith Thatcher,” I murmur, the smile still stuck on my face. Faith is the new head of Marketing, taking over from the last who went on maternity leave and decided not to return. She’s not been here for very long, but damn if she hasn’t made an impression in that short time.
It’s impossible not to be drawn to her in team meetings when I’m supposed to be listening and taking notes on important business shit that suddenly feels far less important than trying to decide on the exact color of Faith’s eyes. Sea blue or sky blue?
My gaze drops down to the meeting description, and I chuckle when I see she’s called for this meeting to review the budget for this quarter’s marketing campaigns. The budget was set before she even started working here, and clearly, she isn’t happy about it.
Not only is Faith drop-dead fucking gorgeous, but she’s also a force to be reckoned with. She’s taken the place by storm, commanding her team with determination but kindness, her spark shining bright. As intrigued as I am by her, the glares and snappy remarks she’s shot my way before making it clear she doesn’t view me as a friendly face. She thinks I’m a rival. That only intrigues me more, though. She’s sassy and vibrant, and every time she snaps at me, my cock takes notice, and my lips kick up in a smile.
I grab my phone, pulling up the company managers’ chat. It’s mostly used for coordinating company-bought lunches and after-work events, but it has the benefit of having the numbers of all the managers. HR would probably disapprove of what I’m about to do, but that concern is barely on my radar, and it’s certainly not enough to stop me.
I click on the members of this chat link and scroll through the numbers until I find the one with her name beside it. Copying and pasting the number into a new chat, I save her as a separate contact and type out my message.
Me: what’s this meeting really about? The budget was agreed weeks ago…
I try and fail to distract myself by reading emails until she answers.
Faith: I never agreed to such a low number, my team and I deserve better. Hence the meeting.
I blink at my screen, barking out a laugh at her bluntness and boldness, then coughing to try to hide it. My reputation is certainly not as the cheerful, chuckling type. The exact opposite, actually; I’m known to be restrained and quiet. But something about Faith just brings out a side of me that I haven’t seen in years. A side of me that I’d almost forgotten was there at all.
I sip my coffee, deciding how to answer and how to play this. She’s decided I’m some sort of rival for her, and fuck if I don’t like that. The challenge of it makes me grin.
Before I can answer her, though, a shadow falls over my desk. I sigh, quickly turning my phone off and setting it down so nobody can see what I am doing. It was only a text, but it feels like so much more somehow.
I glance up, raising a brow as I see who’s stopped by and interrupted me.
“Tom,” I greet blandly, staring at the head of IT who, for some reason, is at my desk at 9:15 AM on a Monday morning.
“Good morning, Ford,” he replies, smiling.
On paper, it looks like Tom and I should get along—we’re both similar ages, work out regularly, like our own space most of the time. But there’s an air of arrogance and entitlement about him that rubs me the wrong way and has ever since he came to work here five years ago. Our relationship is terse, to put it lightly. Still, it’s hardly an issue, given we rarely have to work together. Most days, I can forget he exists. Unfortunately, it seems that today isn’t one of those days.