I’ll also burn the napkin with his phone number on it the second I set foot out of this building.
“Ahh…” Dalton hums. “I think you’re being a bit harsh, even by your standards, Colin. If you don’t approve of the way Eli handles interviews, don’t leave the office for personal business on days you have them scheduled.”
My eyebrow arches at Colin on its own accord, and Colin snaps his gaze up to mine. Maybe I’m projecting, but I could swear that he’s thinking of that unpleasant phone call he took when he stepped out of line.
“Fine,” Colin clips, his voice like an icy blue norther. He closes the folder. “Here’s what we’ll do. Miss Kissinger will be partnered with Celia, but not as her co-rep. It’ll be more of a support role in which she can shadow Celia and learn the ropes. In six months, we’ll do a performance review and go from there.” He straight-up glares at me, andfuck you, too, Colin Flannery.“Until then, your commissions will be based onhersales, and they’ll be capped atfivepercent.”
Five percent.
He might as well have reached across the table and backhanded me.
“Does that sound fair to you, Miss Kissinger?” he concludes.
I swallow thickly, but discreetly. “Fair.”
“Very good then, very good,” Dalton mumbles, pushing his chair back from the table. He heaves the lapels of his jacket together before thumbing the button back through its hole and then holds his hand out to me. “Welcome aboard, Miss Kissinger. I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”
I stand and shake with him. “Thank you, Mister Sears.” I fight the urge to cut a seething glance at Colin. “I can assure you that I will do much better than justfine.”
A barely audible scoff escapes Colin’s mouth as he stands, and Dalton slaps his back as he moseys out of the room.
The door clicks shut, and I’m suddenly alone in the conference room with this completely two-faced man.
Colin throws back his broad shoulders in a way that makes him tower over me even more, and then holds my folder at the level of his chest, tapping it in his open palm.
“I actually don’t have that much of a problem with people who embellish the truth for the sake of their own survival, Elle,” his voice cuts through the brief, yet thick silence between us. “But I have ahugeproblem with people who threatenmysurvival bylying.”
I feel about two feet tall, and not even my overpriced designer suit and power heels can save me now. “I did notlieto—”
“Save it,” he snaps, jaw ticking again. “My survival at this company hinges on the performance of every person on my sales team, and you have no business being one of them. I will not be gentle with you. If I don’t see some kind of miraculous performance from you between now and your six-month evaluation, I will not hesitate to shit-can you on the spot.” He gestures at me flippantly with the folder as his gaze does a blatant up-and-down roam over my form. “Regardless of how fancy your outfit is.”
My jaw falls open, but Colin has already pivoted away from me and is heading for the door.
“Report to Celia’s desk in five minutes,” he says, then glances over his shoulder at me. “And definitelydon’tmeet me at the coffee shop in the morning.” He cocks one eyebrow. “I already know how your first day went.”
The door slams shut behind him, and I ball my hands into rigid fists at my sides.
“You owe me five-fifty for the coffee, youdick,” I snarl at the door, grabbing my purse off the chair where I left it and marching out of the room. I suddenly have a very important task to accomplish beforereporting to Celia’s desk in five minutes, and I speed walk to the elevator, then mash the down button repeatedly.
Before stomping out of the building, I pause at the receptionist’s desk and smile brightly at her. “Could I trouble you for a small piece of tape?”
She returns my smile with an equally bubbly one and peels a short strip of tape from her dispenser, then reaches across the wide marble desk to hand it to me.
“Thanks!”
Jogging through the front doors, I carefully hold the piece of tape between my fingers as I dart to the nearest alley. Once there, I shove my hand into my purse, fish around for a second, and then pull out the napkin from the coffee shop and a pen.
After another second of scribbling and a firm press of the tape, I snicker deviously under my breath as I spin on the ball of my foot to dart back inside toreport to Celia’s desk.
Tidily affixed to the side of a dumpster is a slightly modified version of the napkin note from that morning.
For a good time, call Colin Flannery: 212-555-0102.
Suck on that, MisterAssholein a Sexy Suit.
2
Six Months Later | Present
