Page 21 of Selfie
My mouth falls open. “Excuse me?”
“Dawn,” the receptionist hisses. “Don’t scare her.”
Consider me scared.
“Chelsea, I’m not scaring her. I’m preparing her.” Dawn curls her fingers, beckoning me forward. “Come on. I’ll show you to your desk and see if I can run a little interference in case Nathan’s on the warpath.”
“Warpath?” I squawk.
The women ignore me, talking right through me. “He’s been extra edgy since James dropped the news about his engagement,” Dawn explains. “Speaking of which,” she tells Chelsea, “Julia will be here with a potential wedding planner at noon. If we’re still in the earnings meeting, please escort them right up to James’s office. Make sure she doesn’t run into Nathan.”
“Roger that,” Chelsea confirms. “God, what’re you going to do about the wedding? Nathan can’t avoid his new stepmom forever.”
Dawn covers her forehead, her middle finger and thumb pressed tightly against each temple. “If you value your job here, Chelsea, never use ‘Julia’ and ‘stepmom’ in the same sentence around Nathan.” Dawn’s bright green eyes snap toward me. “That goes for you too.”
They both stare at me expectantly. “Um, I’m still kind of hung up on ‘warpath,’ so if we could just go over that briefly because the way you two keep exchanging glances makes me feel like I just signed an employment contract to work for Darth Vader.”
Chelsea smiles. “Apt nickname for Nathan.”
“Stop helping,” Dawn bites out. “Come on, Spencer. You don’t want to be late on your first day. He doesn’t need any more ammo to hate you.”
Dammit, I got too comfortable. I had such a good morning, I should’ve known I was skipping and whistling straight into a shitstorm. Dawn’s already at the elevator bay, tapping the up arrow furiously. I’m midstride to obediently join her but Chelsea stops me.
“Spencer?”
“Yes?”
She smooths the top of her long, blond hair which is tied into a low ponytail. “Word of advice? Don’t take anything personally. When in doubt, it’s not about you.”
I wet my lips. “Okay, that’s the most grim send-off anyone has ever given me, but…thank you?”
She laughs. “If you’re still here by one o’clock, I’ll be really impressed. Stop by the front desk. I’ll buy you lunch.”
The elevator dings before the heavy metal doors peel open. “Spencer,” Dawn calls out while snapping her fingers. “Come on, quick like a bunny.”
I move toward the elevator with heavy steps. My high heels click off the marble tile but I’m treading so slowly, the floor may as well be wet concrete. I am that reluctant to meet my fate.
That’s the bar Chelsea set? Not thirty days, not even a week.
She’ll be impressed if I make it untillunch?
Fuck.
7
Nathan
“Nate. Stay behind. I need a moment with you,” Dad says as the rest of the finance team clears the meeting room. There’s a low murmur ofoohsfrom the team, mocking me as if I got called to the principal’s office. It’s all in good fun, except half of the executives in the room would probably love to see me topple off my pedestal. When you’re the big boss’s son, there’s always a target on your back. Unfortunately for them, I work hard and I’m good at my job. If they want control of the portfolio, they’ll have to outperform me and my numbers. Good luck.
“What’s up, Dad?” I ask as the final team member exits, closing the door behind them.
He pushes back from his seat at the head of the long conference room table and starts pacing. That can’t be good. “Did you catch up with the Harvey kid this weekend? Any luck?”
I exhale deeply. “I tried. I stopped by his wife’s birthday party but I couldn’t catch him.”
Dad stops in place before turning to face me. “He’s pissed and wouldn’t talk to you?”
“No, nothing like that. Finn invited me when I reached out to him. He was busy at the party, and I got…distracted.”
