Chapter 1
Noelle
“Hon?”
I blink, pulling myself away from my thoughts as I turn towards Mandy.
“Hmm?”
She snorts, chewing loudly, with her mouth open and bits of red and green cupcake frosting tumbling out. “What, you worried about that rumor?”
Uh, yes?
I shrug, my eyes darting back to the glass-walled, dimly lit loft office that looms above the main work floor of Pierce & Horn. The offices of my new workplace — a tech and finance analysis firm — are huge, with a ceiling towering forty feet above us. There’s the main floor, a balcony mezzanine level, and then above that, the big, dim, glass-walled offices of our bosses.
Bosses, plural. Pierce & Horn has two CEOs. And it’s up there that I’ve had my eyes locked on, lost in thought as the world’s lamest office holiday party murmurs around me.
Some Christmas Eve.
“Girl, please,” Mandy snorts, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand, which leaves frosting marks across her skin she doesn’t seem to notice.
“Trust me, this place is full of rumors.”
I smile warily. Maybe she’s right. Maybe the ominous rumors circulating through the tame, crappy, mandatory office party are just that: rumors.
“I’m sure this is just some last-minute scare tactic before the holidays. Maybe to distract us from this shitty party. I mean, you know them.”
Them. She means the two men presumably up in that dim, foreboding looking office — Brock Pierce and Seamus Horn. Our bosses. And yeah, I know them, but only through reputation. I know they rarely come out of that office. I know they’re brooding, and gruff, and have a reputation for being more than a little terrifying. For one, because of their wealth and the power they wield in this firm, and in New York City in general. And two?
Well, because of their size.
When you think of the CEO of a financial tech analysis company, you think what I thought before I came to work here. Maybe a nerdy guy with Steve Jobs glasses. Maybe some beer-bellied, frat-bro-turned-finance guy. You don’t think of, well, them.
We’ve never officially met. Mandy’s the one who interviewed me, and they rarely leave their citadel office that presides darkly over the whole office. But I’ve seen them here and there on their way to client meetings, or in passing. And Brock Pierce and Seamus Horn are nothing like the tech CEOs you might think of.
That is, unless you think of tech CEOs as maybe being professional football linebackers as a side gig. They’re huge — both of them easily over six-five, and built like tanks. Broad shoulders, barrel chests, and bulging arms that are barely contained by the impeccably custom tailored suits they wear to work.
And beyond the power, and the wealth, and the imposing physique, there’s the fact that both of them carry a dark, brooding fierceness with them wherever they go. They’ve got pretty fearsome reputations for being short to anger and quick to displease. And they keep an iron fist on the spending and day-to-day operations of their firm. Hence, this absolutely lame holiday party. A crappy holiday music playlist from someone’s phone through tinny speakers, minimal decorations, a sad-looking tray of cheese and veggies and dip, and — perhaps most egregious of all — no booze. Talk about killing the holiday cheer.
Basically, my two new bosses are a couple of Scrooges.
But also, a couple of stunningly gorgeous Scrooges. That’s actually what makes them even scarier. It’s not just the wealth, power, reputation for being grumpy and mean, and their size. It’s that the two huge alphas running this office are crazy hot, in this dark, somewhat scary way.
“Will you stop looking up there?” Mandy grabs my arm, pulling me around and out of my thoughts again. “Oh, and before I forget, did you get those JPR reports done?”
I frown. Shit; no. I’ve been too distracted by the rumors of the impending doom floating around the office. Mandy sees my pause and my worried look and scowls.
“Lordy, bird-brain.” She sighs heavily. “Well maybe quit staring up at that office like you’re going to see something and get it done?”
Technically, the JPR reports are Mandy’s job. But technically, she’s my superior in the accounting department where we work. And I’ve got no illusions about being the new hire at a very lucrative job, and that being here means doing work outside of my job description. You know, like Mandy’s work.
Frequently.
We have this “fun, friendly” banter back and forth, but it’s actually pretty one-sided. I mean, she is my superior, technically. And I know what she’s doing with this “friendly” banter. She uses it to get me to do her shit for her, like we’re friends. And yet, it’s not like she’s out there doing my work in return.
But, again, I get it. I’m new here, and this job is really important to me. So, like I always do when Mandy — with her too-orange lipstick and her shit-eating smile — asks me to do her work: I smile right back and nod.