Chrissy drew up straight and her eyes narrowed. How dare he push this on her? But she also remembered her promise to her sister to act cool and play for time. She had to make it look good, to give Marcus the hint he needed to propose to Gloria. And a dance? What the heck? What was this? High school? “Sure, Papa. I’ll be there. When?”
“It starts at eight and goes to closing.”
“And why are we doing this at the Roccos’ bar?”
“Because Vittorio Rocco thought it’d be good for you two to meet in an informal place, and I agree.”
Chrissy sighed. “Fine, Papa. And how am I supposed to recognize this guy?”
“The bartender, either Sheldon or John, will introduce you. You want me to be there?”
Hell no! She panicked at that idea. The last thing she needed was her father's eyes on her every move. Or any of her bloody family. “I’ll be okay.”
“That’s a given. I told Gloria and Marcus to go with you.”
Fabulous! she thought acidly. They left no room for her to back out. Gloria, the snitch, would tell them everything.
“Be there,” he growled. “Too much is riding on this for you to display your independent streak.”
Streak. That’s how her father thought of it. Not that she had thoughts and opinions of her own. At another time, she’d give him a piece of her mind. But this was for Gloria. So, she’d show up and play this thing out. “Okay, Papa, whatever you say.”
He grunted and clicked off the call, and her phone buzzed with a text.
Oh shit. Saks.
Saks: I keep thinking about last night.
Her lips pursed tightly. Chrissy didn’t have time to answer any of Saks’ texts. She had more important things to do, like attacking the strategy for her job hunt. She had no idea how soon she might lose her position. But when the ax came, Chrissy wanted to look the bastard in the eye. She had her speech crafted. “Oh, what a relief, because I didn’t know how tell you about the fabulous employment offer I’ve accepted.”
Despite the butterflies in her stomach she strolled into the building, all business, dressed in a handmade gray raw silk suit expertly tailored by her mother. This she paired with Christian Louboutin pumps
with the signature red soles as she marched into reception. Chrissy restrained the urge to look toward Richard Hamilton’s office. She had a story ready if the snake should ask why she came in.
“Hello, Chloe,” she said coolly as she unlocked her door. Chloe perched at her desk in front of Richard’s corner office. No doubt Chloe got an eyeful of Chrissy’s dressy outfit, which would fuel the gossip mill.
Good.
Jessica entered behind her. “Wow,” she said. “When you launch into attack mode, you go all out.”
“Did you pull together those materials?”
“Yes. The portfolio’s on your desk; the lists you asked for are in your email.”
“Excellent.”
“What’re you going to do?”
“Do? Nothing,” Chrissy said slyly. “We’ll place that order for trade buys. Please pull that list and check what we’ve spent this month.”
“Sure,” said Jessica.
“And fill out the purchase order. I'll personally bring it to Richard to sign it.”
“Oooh,” mouthed Jessica. Most times Jessica left the purchase order with Chloe, but this situation called for a frontal assault. “Right away, boss.”
“Quickly.” She turned on her computer and read through her emails. Richard sent one, arranging a meeting on Friday. She sighed. The Friday dump. Time grew short, and she had a ton of work to do to find a new job.
She sent a text to one especially persistent headhunter, Charles Grayson, who had lured her on a date before he unloaded his proposal. She grew annoyed with him, because Charles was both handsome and available, and that his only interest was to sell her business talents ticked her off. But Chrissy extended a lunch invitation to him.