Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20481 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 102(@200wpm)___ 82(@250wpm)___ 68(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20481 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 102(@200wpm)___ 82(@250wpm)___ 68(@300wpm)
Thankfully, Mr. Crown smiles and drags his gaze up my body.
“Carlos. Was he right to hire you?”
“I…I hope so,” I reply honestly.
Mr. Crown nods. “Fair enough. Now, for your first assignment, head down to Saks and get yourself some clothes. Tell Claire that Jude sent you and tell them to put it on the business account. If they give you a hard time, have them call the office and check in with Carlos. Understand?”
I can’t even believe what’s happening right now, but I manage to nod.
“Yes…sir.”
“Good. And while you’re there, grab me a few ties as well.”
Every muscle in my body goes tense.
“A few ties?” I ask as he turns away from me.
“That’s right. Five ought to do.”
Oh God. I knew this job was going to be hard, but I was expecting paperwork and maybe fetching coffee, not making fashion choices for one of the most handsome billionaires in the world.
“Any particular color or print?” I ask.
Jude casually steps closer to me, inspecting me like I’m a piece of art he’s considering buying. I’m suddenly self-conscious, hyper-aware of every flaw I’ve ever known about myself. But Mr. Crown looks at me with approval and nods. “I trust your taste, Penny. Now go on. But hurry back, okay? Oh, and you should wear your hair up. Don’t hide that pretty face of yours.”
Yeah, I’m going to blush. But before I go, I quickly turn away, taking a mental photograph of the tie currently around Jude’s neck: gray with blue stripes.
“Y-yes, sir…”
Before I’m even out the door, I hear Jude back on the phone again, barking orders to someone, asking about whether or not the new contracts with royalty percentages have been updated or not. I close the office door behind me and walk quickly in the direction of the elevator. I highly doubt anyone is looking at me, but it feels like every eye in the office is on me. I can practically hear what they’re all thinking:
“There she is.”
“That’s the new girl.”
“I wonder how long she’ll last?”
“Not more than a day, two at max.”
“She’s not even from the city. She’s an upstate bumpkin. What’s she even doing here?”
I thumb the call button and watch the light as the elevator slowly ascends from the 55th floor. As soon as the doors open, I practically throw myself in and smash my thumb on the button for the lobby. I keep my eyes closed and lean against the wall of the elevator, ignoring everyone who gets in on the way down, and focus only on the single, amazing, nearly unbelievable fact that keeps bouncing around in my mind:
He liked me. Jude Crown actually liked me. Not only that, but he said I was good-looking!
The last person riding with me gets off on floor twelve, leaving me alone in the elevator. When the doors close behind them, I let out a scream of sheer delight like a nine-year-old girl on Christmas morning.
“Yes!” I shout, throwing both hands into the air. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!”
I literally cannot believe it. I go right into my silly dance and am still in the midst of it when the elevator dings and the doors open into the lobby, at which point I go right into pretending there’s something wrong with my shoe as several people get on. Then I quickly make my way out, and grinning like a schoolgirl, march out into the sunny streets of Manhattan and call a cab.
The first one passes me, by but the second stops. I slide in the backseat.
“Saks Fifth Avenue, please.”
“No problem,” the driver replies.
My heart is still racing, but for different reasons now. I’m no longer filled with panic and anxiety; now I’m running through outfit ideas in my head, trying to think of what I should get that will best please Jude and make me look my best but also still be professional for the office.
Obviously, he wants me to look sexy, which is a skill I have absolutely never learned, but I’m still his secretary and need to be taken seriously. I can’t just pick up a set of black lace lingerie and some heels and head back there like we’re about to make a sex tape or something. I also can’t copy what Gretchen was wearing either. The last thing in the world I need to do is riff off of the girl he recently let go who was escorted out by security.
And then of course there’s the question of his ties…
The ride to Saks doesn’t take too long, even with Manhattan traffic being what it is. I pay the driver and tip him, get out and head inside, and am instantly overwhelmed. I am not supposed to be here. The outfit I’m wearing cost less than fifty dollars, the shoes were thrifted, and the necklace is my roommate Rachel’s who let me borrow it for today. I do the majority of my shopping at thrift stores. Saks is for people who have vacation homes on Long Island.