Page 2 of Honor

The train slows as it approaches my stop, so I raise my voice just loud enough that every person within three feet can hear me. “That night we spent together was one of the worst I’ve ever had.”

His mouth falls open. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“That’s what I said when it was over.” I roll my eyes. “You must have been having an off night, Brewster.”

Confusion knits his brow at my mention of his surname. “We fucked? You’re cute, but you’re not my usual type.”

“I feel the same way about you.” Rising to my feet, I pat his shoulder. “Thank goodness there are a lot of single men in this city.”

I exit the train, never turning back to catch the look on Mr. Brewster’s face. I don’t have the time. I’m already running late, and if there’s one thing Mr. Hunt despises, it’s tardiness.

There are actually dozens of things he despises, but in terms of the office, an employee being even one second late puts them on his hit list, and since I started working for him last year, I’ve avoided landing on it.

I want to keep my record clean for as long as possible, or at least until I can find a job I really want.

I hurriedly gathermy shoulder-length dark brown hair into a ponytail and secure it with a brown elastic band. After a glance at the mirror in my boss’s private washroom, I toss myself a nod.

“Day two of five, Evangeline Starling,” I remind myself it’s Tuesday. “You’ll make it to Friday with flying colors.”

The daily mirror ritual stems back to my childhood when my sister would brush my hair each morning before her blue eyes locked on my reflection.

Tracey is seven years older than I am, and even though we share the same color eyes and hair, we’re two very different people now.

Her life is in Milford, where she’s raising her two daughters with her husband. They met in high school, and once he inherited his grandparents’ home, he asked Tracey to marry him. She couldn’t say yes fast enough, and now ten years later, they’re both thirty and more in love than ever.

After being accepted to NYU Stern School of Business, I made the move to New York City fresh out of high school. I’ve been here for five years, and even though my goal is a career in marketing, I’m currently working as an executive assistant.

I lucked into the job because one of my professors knew someone who knew a guy who used to work at Vidori. I also have a boatload of experience working as an executive assistant to the marketing manager of a clothing brand.

I held that position for three summers straight because the regular assistant always took an extended leave to go to Martha’s Vineyard to enjoy the sun and sand. After graduating, I thought I might land a permanent job in their marketing department, but they didn’t have anything available.

Working at a private equity firm isn’t my final career destination. It pays the bills for now and pads my resume, but my ultimate goal is to make an impact in the marketing department of a Fortune 500 company.

The door to the washroom swings open with a flourish. Cleo Flannery strolls in. She’s become my unlikely best friend at work and outside of work. Cleo is a few years older than I am and happily married, but we formed an instant bond since we both spend long hours in the office.

The handful of friends I made in college branched out to demanding jobs in other states after graduation, so we don’t keep in touch as much as we’d like to.

“Evie, sweet Evie,” she says as she wanders into the washroom. “You need to have a coffee on Reid’s desk in ten minutes, and I recommend getting your ass out of here before he catches you in his private space.”

I thank her with a smile. “I know. I had to tame the tangles in my hair. It was a windy walk from the subway stop.”

She glances at my reflection in the mirror. “You did a great job.”

I laugh. “It’s adequate. How do you always look like that even when the wind is on a wicked path?”

“It’s called a car service.” She winks, smoothing a hand over her red hair. It’s cut into a sleek bob that suits the sharp lines of her face perfectly. “It’s one of the perks of being a senior analyst.”

Cleo has been at Vidori Capital for almost five years. In that time, she worked her way up the corporate ladder to her own corner office complete with perks, which apparently include a chauffeured ride to work and back home.

I sigh. “I should have negotiated that into my contract.”

“Should haves aren’t worth thinking about.” She glances in the mirror. “Make a list of must-haves so when your contract comes up for renewal, you’ll be prepared to negotiate.”

I don’t bother reminding her that I hope to be out of here as soon as my contract expires. When that date nears, I’ll start applying to every available marketing job in New York City since a career in that field is my ultimate goal.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I tighten my ponytail one last time. “I’m off to get Mr. Hunt’s coffee, so it’ll be waiting for him when he gets here at eight fifty five.”

Cleo’s gaze drops to the watch on her left wrist. “The clock is ticking. You’ve got nine and a half minutes, so go!”

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