Company Ink by E.L. Lewis
e i g h t
Either Janet had pregnancy brain, or she was deliberately trying to screw over her replacement, because when I called Miso Bella to confirm the reservation for today's lunch, they said they had no record of the booking. It took several minutes of faking sobs and talking to the manager, but I managed to secure a table for 1 pm. I was on the verge of going full blown Karen on their asses, but luckily, I didn't have to resort to mini-van mom hysterics.
Adrian emailed me a brief on the client we're seeing today. Alfred Chan aged fifty-seven. Owner of BluTech Research, one of the biggest manufacturers of pharmaceuticals in the country. Alfred and his wife Tiffany are essentially firm shopping, while they're visiting from Los Angeles. The Biotechnology industry is the largest market for Patent Law and seeing as Pearson & Associates is one of the top boutique firms in this field, Adrian is confident they'll decide to give us their business.
This lunch is basically a job interview which worries the fucking shit out of me. Not only does Adrian have to showcase the firm's success, but he also has to be able to connect with the Chan's on a personal level. Since I'm his PA, I'm there for...moral support? I'm not entirely sure, but Adrian did email me a list of topics to discuss with his wife. Maybe I'm the wife buffer? I'm allowed to keep the conversation on four topics: gardening (Maybe I'll talk about Stella), golf (Tiger Woods? That's the extent of my knowledge), travel (body shots in Thailand? I'll have to fudge those details a bit), and... fashion (I have this one in the bag). I'm assuming these topics were based off of extensive research done by Janet before she left. If I knew that creeping people's Instagram accounts was a marketable skill, I would've added it to my resume ages ago.
Being the overachiever I am, I always check my work email as soon as I wake up; it was a habit I picked up working at NVP. And a good thing too, because now I'm dressed in this season's latest Chanel pants suit and vintage Gucci heels, Mrs. Chan will give me one look and we'll become instant best friends.
When I told Monique about this impending outing, she gave me a giant lecture about presenting myself in a professional manner. Truthfully, I was offended that she'd think I'd make eyes at Adrian in front of potential clients. I'm extra but I'm not extra fucking stupid. Whatever it is that's going on between Adrian and me will come to fruition at some point, of that, I am certain.
Based on our last interaction I get the sense that Adrian isn't used to women being so forward. I'm hoping that my brazen advances will work out in my favor. This is the first time I've had to put so much effort into seducing a man; usually, I can get their mattress springs to squeak with just one look, granted I've never attempted to bed my boss before.
Monique is under the impression that Adrian is all talk and no action—that he won't actually cross the line with me. I've had a chance to read through the HR policy on sexual relationships in the workplace; the language was vague and full of jargon. But nowhere did it stipulate that colleagues can't have relations. It just stated that those uh – relations – need to be reported to HR immediately. Seeing as I don't plan on diving into a relationship with Adrian, legally, we're safe. So, my main question is: what's his hesitation?
The looming fear of saying something to offend the Chan's aside, I'm actually quite excited to see how Adrian operates outside the confines of the firm. Our conversations – omitting the incredibly stimulating ones in his office – have been primarily through email and our inter-office messaging system.
"Cassie, are you ready to go?" Adrian asks, standing beside my desk, dressed in a slim fitted dark burgundy suit. "We'll be taking my car."
"Ready as I'll ever be," I sigh, grabbing my purse off of the coat hanger situated behind the cubicles and looping it through my arm. "I'm a little bit nervous to be honest. I don't want to do anything to mess this up for you."
"You'll be fine." Adrian places a reassuring hand on the small of my back as he leads us to the elevator. The warmth of his touch burns through the thin mauve fabric of my blazer causing my face to flush. "Just stick to the talking points I emailed you last night and everything will be fine," he adds casually, knowing quite well what he's doing to me right now.
"Here's hoping," I whisper, calling the elevator. The doors open almost immediately, and we step inside. Adrian scans his fob and presses P2.
I keep my gaze fixated on the descending numbers in front of me and use all my mental prowess not to look over at Adrian. In such a confined space, who knows what could happen?
The elevator stops on the tenth floor and three heavy set accountants squeeze inside, forcing me to back up closer to Adrian. I tighten the grip around my handbag and close my eyes.
Like the bastard he is, Adrian decided to wear Versace Eros cologne today, which is the most rousing and sweetly masculine scent ever to hit the male perfume market—an intense and glowing combination of exotic vanilla, orange blossoms, and delicate mint leaves. I roll my eyes inwardly in frustration. He might as well be wearing a sign that says 'hello, I'm virile'.
We stop on two more floors, and three additional people pile into the already tight quarters.
Are you freaking kidding me? Was there a building-wide memo sent to everyone that said, 'go have lunch at half past noon'? By the seventh floor, my ass is pressed up against Adrian's thigh, his hot breath trickling down my neck, forcing a wave of goosebumps to manifest all over my traitorous body.
This is ridiculous.
To make matters worse, a bozo in a tweed jacket shifts his weight and accidentally steps on my toes which causes me to stumble to the side, grazing Adrian's pelvis in my wake. I swear I hear Adrian curse under his breath as I prop myself back into a standing position. A satisfied smile finds its way to my lips. At least we're both suffering.
Once all the catalysts of my current flustered demeanor exit on the lobby floor, Adrian, and I both spring to the opposite sides of the elevator like two polarizing magnets. I stare at the ground until we reach P2. The doors open and I march out of the demon cube feeling like I just spent forty-five seconds in a self-imposed torture chamber.
Taking a deep breath, I glower at my boss. "Next time, Mr. Cavallero," I huff with a tight smile. "We are taking the damn stairs."
Adrian's laugh echoes through the concrete parking lot. "I thought that was quite fun," he quips, raising a playful brow.
Narrowing my eyes, I take two purposeful strides towards him. "Oh, so now you want to have fun?" I coo, straightening out his tie. "I'll bear that in mind."
"You need to be careful, Cassie," Adrian warns me, but his tone lacks any conviction. "We're at work."
"Actually—" I twirl his tie around my finger, tugging it gently. "We're in a parking lot," I whisper, peering up at him through my thick lashes. Adrian's eyes flicker down to my parted lips and I immediately drop my hand, taking a step back. "So, which car is yours?"
If he thinks he can toy with me then he doesn't know the type of girl I am. Adrian clears his throat and points to a white Mercedes Cabriolet.
"You drive a convertible? You do realize that it rains over one hundred and fifty days of the year, right?"
Adrian shrugs, opening the passenger door for me. "That means I get to enjoy two hundred and fifteen days of driving with the top down."
"Wow," I chuckle, sliding into the burgundy leather interior. "That's some fast math."
"For some reason, I'm not surprised that I can impress you with basic subtraction," Adrian jokes cheekily, closing the door and hopping into the driver's side.
Rude.
"Someone's a little sassy today," I comment, crossing my arms.
"Sassy?" Adrian laughs. "I don't think anyone has ever called me that before."
Once he push-starts the engine and the car roars to life, I cast him a sarcastic scowl. "Well, there's a first time for everything."
"Clearly," Adrian grins, pulling out of the parking lot. "But perhaps keep your observations to yourself when we meet the Chan's. I'm not sure they'll appreciate your honesty as much as I do."
"I'll try my best," I say, flipping down the sun visor and checking my reflection in the mirror. "But no promises."
"Cassie..." Adrian warns me, turning onto the street. "I'm serious."
"I know, I know. I was joking. I'll be good." I smile, holding two fingers up to my forehead. "Scout's honor."
The drive to Miso Bella takes under ten minutes. Adrian hands the valet his keys and we make our way inside the Japanese/Italian fusion restaurant. This spot only opened up two months ago which is probably why I had to fight tooth and nail to make a reservation. The hostess escorts us down the black marble tiled floor to the back of the restaurant. All the tables are abstract versions of ovals, surrounded by maroon wingback chairs. Above each table, individual vintage bulbs suspend from the ceiling in various lengths. The atmosphere is almost that of a futuristic chalet: dark wooden accents and vibrant pops of white and red.
Mr. and Mrs. Chan both rise as we approach our reserved table. I hope they weren't waiting for long but seeing as Adrian and I are fifteen minutes early, they have no right to be upset.
"Alfred, Tiffany." Adrian holds out his hand and gives Mr. Chan a firm handshake. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you both in person." Adrian motions towards me. "This, is my assistant Cassandra Carrington, she'll be joining us for lunch today."
I smile kindly at our potential clients and shake both of their hands. "It's nice to meet you both."
Mrs. Chan looks fucking intimidating compared to her jolly grinned husband. The woman looks like a painting; perfect skin, not a hair out of place, and enough diamonds around her neck to blind an entire nation.
"Thank you for taking the time to meet with us," Mr. Chan says, gesturing for us to sit down. A server strolls by and hands each one of us a menu. "If everything goes well today, we hope to see more of you in the future."
I take a seat across from Tiffany and suck in a breath. Despite Mr. Chan's warm features, the man sure knows how to command a room.
Adrian and Alfred make small talk while perusing their respective menus. I keep mine closed and inquire about Mrs. Chan's jaw-dropping necklace. When a person wears something that flashy, I assume they want to talk about it.
The server arrives with an iPad in hand and asks everyone for their orders. The Chan's go first and holy shit—the customized requests are never ending. My eyes slightly widen as I listen to Tiffany rip apart each dish and create her own version of the food. The woman swapped out three out of the five ingredients in her entrée. Talk about high maintenance.
Adrian leans over to me and whispers, "you haven't opened your menu, Cassie. Are you not planning on eating?"
"I am, but I don't need the menu."
Adrian's eyebrows furrow. "Have you been here before?"
"No," I giggle. "I just don't do menus."
Adrian hums, his eyes flickering with intrigue. "What does that even mean?"
Before I can explain, the server interrupts us. "And for you ma'am?"
I hand her my untouched menu. "I'll have whatever is the chef's favorite."
"Um—" she stammers, looking wildly confused. "Okay... any allergies?"
I shake my head. "Nope. I'll eat anything," I smile.
"Alright, and for you, sir?" she asks Adrian, and he orders the fried fish with a side of shishitos.
"Chef's favorite?" Adrian asks once our waitress is out of sight.
"I figure that's probably the best item on the menu." I shrug. "I haven't been disappointed yet."
Adrian studies me with glimmering eyes for several seconds before so kindly commenting, "You're a very peculiar woman, aren't you?"
I roll my eyes subtly. "Peculiarity is in the eye of the beholder," I whisper. "Maybe you're just uptight."
"Uptight?" Adrian scoffs in a gruff tone, looking baffled.
I shrug coyly, flashing him a dazzling smile then turning my attention back to Tiffany just as our drinks arrive.
For the next hour, Adrian and Alfred discuss the firm and its various clients and previous success, while Tiffany and I talk about runway fashion and the symbolism of bonsai trees. I'm going to have to thank Monique for sending me random BBC documentary clips, otherwise I'd have zero input on the topic.
By the end of lunch, Mr. and Mrs. Chan are practically smitten. Apparently, Adrian and I are quite the pair when it comes to ass-kissing and charming the shit out of people. Not only did I make Tiffany laugh out loud three times with my impeccable humor, but my anecdote about LA fitness trainers had Mr. Chan so amused that he snorted Sapporo out of his nose.
"That went better than I thought it would," Adrian admits after we bid our farewells to the Chan's. "You were great, Cassie. Really. Tiffany looked like she had a great time."
"Of course, she did. I'm a very interesting person," I joke. "Some might even say...peculiar."
Adrian leads me out of the restaurant, once again resting his palm on my back. "I didn't mean it in a negative manner, Cassie. I just meant that you're..." He pauses to think.
"I'm what?" I huff, glaring at him with narrowed eyes.
"Different," he finally says, his eyes drifting up and down my face.
Different? I scoff inwardly. Great, I’m a meme.
"Just what every girl wants to hear."
"It's a compliment," Adrian insists, retrieving his keys from the valet attendant.
"A compliment would be saying I'm beautiful or intelligent, not different," I retort.
Adrian smirks. "I prefer not to state the obvious."
A rush of dopamine hits my brain forcing a giddy smile to snatch the corners of my mouth. "Cute," I hum, tilting my head. "What else is 'obvious'?"
Adrian takes a step towards me, his hooded brown eyes full of conflicted restraint. "That you're trouble."
"Me?" I say, biting my lip. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't play coy with me Cassie, you know exactly what I mean," Adrian replies in a clipped and cool tone.
"Enlighten me, Mr. Cavallero. Because I sure am lost," I probe, hoping that he'll man the fuck up and put us both out of our misery.
Adrian clenches his jaw, clearly annoyed by the game I'm playing. He opens the car door for me. "Get in the car, Cassie. We should get back to work."
I roll my eyes. "Aye aye, captain." He's really starting to bug me. There's only so much rejection a girl can take.
Once we're both seated, Adrian looks at me with hesitation in his eyes. "What?" I ask.
"How the hell do you know so much about bonsai trees?"
Really? That's his question?
"Ask me out to dinner and I'll tell you," I say flatly.
"You know I can't do that," Adrian says.
"Can't or won't?"
"It's not that simple," Adrian sighs. "We work together and I—I don't do relationships."
"Oh my God!" I throw my head back, completely exasperated. "I said dinner, not a weekend away together in Vancouver." I let out a sigh. "You really are uptight."
Adrian stares at me with an unreadable expression. I turn away from him and look out the window, thoroughly irritated at this whole situation. How obnoxious is he to assume I want to date him? Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome has one hell of an ego, which right now, is a bit of a turn-off. Someone honks their horn at us, and I realize we've been idling for several minutes.
"Cassie—"
"We should get going," I state wryly, cutting him off. "I have documents to scan."