Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 25425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
“Here’s the thing, Ren: Mr. Force and I just met, but I already know one of his executives is trying to screw him over. He deserves to know.”
“What are you going to do?”
“You know I usually blurt, but that won’t work.” I sigh. “I really hate unethical people. Any bright ideas how I can tell him without him kicking me to the curb?”
“Off the top of my head? No.” Her tone is thick with apology. “I’d have to think for a while.”
“I don’t have time. I’ll take anything you’ve got.”
“Epic rap battle?”
“What?” I love Renee…but sometimes her out-of-the-box translates to crazy.
“Yeah. You tell him to throw down some lyrics about business, then you throw down some, too, and—”
“How is that supposed to make him trust me?”
“If you were lying, would you be singing it?”
“I’m supposed to beat-box and freestyle with one of the brightest financial minds in the world to explain why one of his own intends to screw him over?”
“Okay, so maybe that’s not my best idea. Um…what about watching a few episodes of Billions with him? See if you can segue from fictional backstabbing to the real-life kind.”
That actually has some merit, but I still don’t see Chad Force wasting a few hours for me to get to the point.
I’m going to have to figure this out myself.
“Maybe. Listen, you’re okay for a few days?”
“Totally. You? Force isn’t a creep, right?”
“Not at all. I doubt he’s even realized I’m female.” Sadly.
“Bummer. Can I call this number if I need to talk to you?”
“No!” That’s all I need, for Mr. Force to realize I used his phone without his permission. “I’ll check in when I can. Promise.”
“Okay. Talk to you soon.”
“Bye, Ren.”
With a sigh, I hang up and try to think of any other phone calls I need to make. Nothing comes to mind. But his device is sitting right here… Maybe I should look over his texts with Hennessey. Maybe some part of their exchange will help my cause?
Nope.
A few minutes later, I darken the device and return it to his dresser. Since spying is a dead end, I need to spend time prepping for when Mr. Force awakens.
Setting aside the wrapped bundle of what I assume are my necessities, I configure the laptop quickly. Then I scramble down to his office and find the Wi-Fi password exactly where he said it would be, so I connect and surf to some of my favorite financial sites, pulling data I think he’ll be interested in and compiling it into reports I hope he’ll find useful. When I sort the data enough to spot a few interesting trends, I massage the report to illustrate my point and print it out.
On my way upstairs, I peek in Mr. Force’s room. He’s beginning to stir, so I step into my bedroom across the hall and unwrap the personal items Mr. Hunt brought as Hades joins me with a meow.
In addition to a toothbrush and toothpaste, there’s a boar-bristle brush, a sturdy wooden comb, salon-brand shampoo and conditioner, a luxury facial cleanser with accompanying moisturizer, a soft but lacy nightgown with delicate spaghetti straps in a blushing pink shade, two pairs of designer underwear, and an expensive bra that’s precisely my size.
Holy shit. Mr. Force told Hunt what to fetch. Had he read my mind? Read my body?
“Savannah?”
Still reeling, I shove everything aside and head across the hall to find the man sitting up in bed expectantly. “Yes, Mr. Force?”
“Marcus left?”
“About ninety minutes ago, yes.”
He nods as if he’s digesting that information. “Did you get your computer set up?”
“Yes. I also pulled the information you requested and compiled it.” I hand him the report.
He takes it with a nod. “I need a minute to study this. Would you hand me my phone and get me a bottle of water?”
Clearly, I’m going to get that exercise I was lamenting earlier just running up and down these stairs. No wonder he looks amazing.
“On it.”
As I hand him his device and turn to head out of the room, he calls out to me. “Savannah?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re doing well. Carry on.”
I’m hard-pressed to hold in a smile. “Thank you.”
Then I remember the truth I have to lay on him and my smile fades as I head downstairs.
Chad
Working with Savannah is an utter delight—not that I’d tell her. With very little direction, she’s compiled a surprisingly insightful report and recognized trends that weren’t even on my radar. If I hire her as my assistant, I can’t keep her in that position long. First, she’s too bright not to promote. Second, she’s too sexy to have so close. If I’m aching to touch her after just a few hours, how will I resist her for weeks? Months? Years?
As we pore over the data, I give her my thoughts. She asks astute questions, which saves on the time needed to introduce her to the ins and outs of my business. The rest? Intuitively, she fills in the blanks and offers to update the report to my specification with numbers from the Asian markets as they roll in.