He grins. “You’re that afraid of what people are going to think?” he asks, glancing around the café like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“I am. You helped me, yes, but that was outside of work. We have to maintain a level of professionalism here, and this—this ain’t.”
He stews. He knows I’m right whether he wants to admit it or not. He says, “Tell me how you think I could’ve handled the situation better this morning.”
“The coffee incident?”
“Yes.”
“I told you already, Ess—I mean, Mr. DePaul—you just didn’t want to take my advice.”
“You told me to get some paper towels and clean it up myself, and that’s just not going to work for me. Try again.”
And now we’re in a staring match. Again…
Tingles frolic along my forearms. I find myself sinking and dissolving into his eyes again, asking myself for the umpteenth time why they feel so familiar to me. It’s like one of those freaky feelings. Did I meet this guy in a past life or something? The first time it happened, I thought it was a fluke, but now I know it’s not. It’s real – as real as my hammering heartbeat right now as his eyes trace and outline every part of my face – my nose, my eyes, my lips – especially my lips.
I clear my throat and say, “You could have been a little more polite to the receptionist. She’s a nice woman. She’s cordial to everyone who comes in and treats people with respect. Those high-powered executives who are in and out of here every day – she’s the one who greets them before they reach you. I think you need to look at DePaul & Company like a team sport and you’re the captain. You’re great—everyone here knows that—but this is your company and you are no better than your weakest employee. It’s you who needs to encourage people and make them feel like they are valued and wanted no matter what position they hold. Yelling at someone over a spill is unacceptable.”
“Understood,” he says with a faux smile on his face and an unmistakable twinkle in his eye. “But let me ask you, Ms. Bailey, when was the last time you made someone feel wanted and valued?”
He sounds bitter when he asks me the question, like I’m supposed to read between the lines somehow. I say, “This isn’t about me.”
“So you think,” he deadpans. “I’ll let you get back to your food. Oh, and just to preserve your street cred since you’re so worried about what your coworkers will think about this interaction between us, I’ll yell at you when I get up.”
“No, don’t—”
Before I can tell him not to do it, he’s already on his feet, snapping at me, saying, “And it better be done right the next time or you’re out of here! Got it!” and then he walks away.
I’m mortified. I can’t move a muscle, though I need to escape. I can’t believe he did this to me. I suppose he had to for the reasons he specified. At least this way, it’ll take the suspicion off me – of people wanting to know why I was sitting with the CEO in the café – but it’s utterly embarrassing at the same time. I could crawl into a hole right now and stay there forever. When I see him outside of this building, I will definitely tell him about his self.
I return to my desk after lunch. It’s two hours later and I’m still fully rattled by Essex’s actions. Zahara asked me if I was okay and I assured her I was fine. The girl is scared for me. She thinks I’m on the brink of losing my job.
I get a fresh cup of coffee and reset so I can focus without screwing up somebody’s taxes. I’m closer to the screen than Ian’s glasses, making sure I’m doing everything right when an email comes through from Shanice.
Another one.
She’s been sending emails all afternoon. The first one was a reminder that this Friday, the refrigerators are going to be cleaned out and if you left food inside, it would be thrown away. The second email was about upcoming company events, including a 5K for charity in the summer and an employee appreciation function at the DePaul Estate. Now, what is this email about? The words, ‘Sad News’ are in the subject line. I take a break from the tax screen to swivel over to my email inbox:
To: DePaul & Company ALL
From: Shanice Davison
Date: Monday, April 4, 2022 03:13:25 EST
Subject: Sad News
Mr. DePaul’s mother has passed away. He will be out of the office for the rest of the day, and I’m not sure at this point when he will be returning. Please keep him and his family in your thoughts and prayers during this difficult time.
Thanks,
Shanice Davison
Executive Assistant to Essex DePaul
Mailroom: 12FL-A8
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