I point toward the kitchen. “I ordered pasta from Calvetti’s for dinner. It was delivered ten minutes ago. Lucky for you, there’s enough for all of us.”
“Spaghetti, here I come,” Stevie yells as she takes off across the hardwood floors.
“You were expecting someone else, weren’t you?” Berk adjusts the collar of the black button-down shirt he’s wearing. “Stevie wanted to stop by, but we can take off.”
Since they only live three blocks from here, I’m used to their unannounced visits. I welcome them so much that I gave my brother a key to this place. He never uses it. He always rings the doorbell.
“It’s just me for the night.” I sigh.
“Are you recovering from last night?” he asks with a smirk.
“I ate a sandwich on the couch last night while I watched a full season of that teenage drama I’m not supposed to let Stevie watch.”
Berk bites back a laugh. “You bastard. I knew you were the one letting her watch that.”
“You swore,” I point out, tapping him on his shoulder.
He ignores my comment. “Why did you order so much food, Keats?”
“Have you tasted the food at Calvetti’s?” I arch a brow. “It’s the best Italian food in the city. You try eating one serving.”
I leave it at that. My brother doesn’t need to know that I was going to cart the extra over to his place and put it in his fridge so he wouldn’t have to think about what to feed his daughter once he got back from Boston.
“I want to hear more about your new assistant.” Berk pats me on the back. “Dish up some food and give me all the details.”
I follow behind as he makes his way to the kitchen. The only detail that matters is that I haven’t stopped thinking about Maren since she left my office yesterday, and I’m counting the hours until I see her again.Chapter 8MarenI haven’t had to face many first days on the job because I’ve only worked at a handful of places in my life.
My first job was at a fast-food restaurant on the Lower East Side. I worked there for two years while I was in high school. I went to a private school, and while most of my friends were partying hard on their parents’ dime, I was earning money to go toward my college fund.
The deal I had with my parents was simple. If I contributed to my education, they’d support me by covering my tuition at the school of my choice.
I intended to go to Yale or Harvard, but my grades didn’t get on board for that, so I went to NYU. I stayed at home instead of moving on campus. It was one of the best decisions of my life.
I interned at a recording studio during summer breaks in college. After I graduated, I worked at two different companies before I landed an entry-level job at Knott Public Relations. I worked my way up to Communications Specialist. My end goal was the position of Director of Communications.
Royce, my boss, took a leave of absence. He was the only person I reported to. When he left, his brother Christian stepped in to fill his shoes.
Christian may have co-owned the firm, but he rarely showed up to the office before Royce temporarily walked away.
We clashed almost immediately. I tried to respect the challenges Christian faced taking over control of the company, but when I noticed him making decisions that ultimately cost us clients, I spoke up.
I was fired with no notice, and a month’s worth of pay.
Now, here I am a few days later with a job that pays me twice what I was making at Knott. According, to my employment contract, the position of assistant to Keats Morgan is straightforward. I’m overqualified, but that’s not going to stop me from doing my best.
I’m counting on a stellar recommendation from Keats when I find another job in my field.
In the meantime, I’ll bank the money I earn and learn what I can from the sports agent.
As I approach one of the guards in the lobby, I flash the badge that Everett, the Head of Human Resources, gave me last week. I’m early for my first day because I want to have time to organize my desk and get my bearings before my boss shows up at work.
The building that houses Morgan Sports Management is on one of the busiest streets in the city. I passed by the Empire State Building on my way here this morning. The first time I ever went there, I was with my dad. He took me up to the observation deck and told me that the city was mine to conquer.
I’m doing that by chasing my dreams. This job may be a temporary detour, but I need it.
The guard narrows his eyes as he looks over my badge. “Good morning, Miss Weber.”