He squints. “I can barely see that from here.” Stedfaust looks at one of the younger guys sitting by Sabrina. “Is it good?”
She turns her laptop toward him. He leans over and studies it for a second, then nods. “Yeah. It looks decent. It’s more our thing.”
“Bring it here.”
She pushes the laptop closer to him, and he peers at it. I can already tell by the way his eyes widen that he likes what he sees.
I’ll be damned.
Stedfaust jabs a finger at her. “That—now that is exactly what I’m looking for, Bristol. It’s fun and whimsical. It fits with the brand. Can you work something up with a concept along those lines? That would be worth seeing and you already have mock-ups.”
She nods. “Of course. Right away, sir.”
Shocker. She sold him. He’s not even objectifying her like a crass old hound anymore.
Remind me to pick my jaw up off the floor.
Still. It wasn’t okay to pitch in my meeting without approval.
I thought I made it clear that her job was to show up, get the presentation working, switch the slides, and make sure everyone’s coffee was topped off, not play CEO.
This could’ve gone down very differently.
“We’ll have new proofs for you by the end of the week, Chester,” I say. He’s happy and I’m not pushing it into next week when he’s ready to buy now.
“Looking forward to it.” He nods to his team and pushes back his chair. “We have a three o’clock, so sorry if we cut this short.”
I nod at him. “I understand. Thanks for coming in. You’ll have your proofs before the close of business on Friday.”
Stedfaust and his team file out. My crew starts leaving, too, already rehashing the scene in frantic whispers. At least the office gossip mill will be on fire for the next week.
Hugo and the rest of the creative team leave while Sabrina throws the opened pet food away, tying the garbage bag shut for the janitors.
She picks up her laptop and steps toward the door.
“Miss Bristol, you can stay for a minute,” I snap.
“Okay? Sure.” She sits down reluctantly.
I let the silence yawn between us like a gaping chasm.
The imagination usually comes up with better punishments than anything I’d actually say.
Pity I can’t subject her to all of it.
“Mr. Heron?” She starts, gnawing at her lip. “Is something wrong?”
“You’re my EA, not part of Hugo’s creative team,” I finally growl. “But since Chester Stedfaust liked your idea more than he did staring at your tits like the pervert he is, you can spend the afternoon brainstorming with the senior designers. I’ll still need your remaining administrative tasks done before midnight, of course. Congratulations. You’re doing two jobs today. Got it?”
She purses her lips. “Whatever.”
“You made your bed,” I say, trying not to soften at how pissed off she looks. “Lie in it.”
“You mean I saved your bed, Heron. Because he was sooo impressed with that stunt you pulled, spooning cat food in your face.” She cocks her head. “It might have packed more of a punch if you’d actually eaten it—at least the Meow Chow.”
Probably, but even I’m not taking that hit for the team.
I’m not willing to actually eat pet food purely because my creative designer brainfarted this project. That has to be what happened. Hugo’s better than this.
“I bought us time,” I rumble, my fingers flexing into fists.
“Yeah, I’m not denying you did, but he wasn’t sold and you know it. He’d just come back next week the way he was today. I bailed you out and you can’t even say thanks.” Her dark-brown eyes are all hellfire, this angry pixie who takes what I dish out and hurls it right back.
“My ‘thanks’ is called your paycheck since I did you an even bigger favor by hiring you when you have zero experience. You tell me where else someone with a year or two of work history earns your salary? I hired you to be my EA. If I wanted you in design, I’d have put you there, and you’d be making a third of your salary. I pay you to handle my administrative tasks and Hugo for creative solutions. Learn the difference. Understood?”
“Yes,” she hisses back. Her face goes red and her jaw clenches. “I understand just fine. May I be dismissed, boss?”
Mouthy again.
God, she annoys me.
If I were a more horrible man, I’d pull her closer, take her over my knee, hike up that dress and—
No. I’m not letting myself do this shit. Fantasizing about a new hire who turns my blood bullfighter red.
The only real answer to her question is yes, and that answer shifts the power to her. Except I don’t work for her. She works for me.
“I don’t quite think you understand everything,” I tell her, narrowing my eyes.
“What? I told you—”
“And I’m telling you. If you know what’s smart, you’ll take notes quietly in future meetings. I know your outburst worked out today, but if it hadn’t, we’d be having a very different conversation right now.”