Page 57 of Corporate Escapades

“Dad! I’m not a child!” she rebuked.

“Darling, your whining says otherwise. I don’t want to treat you like a child, but this is the only way your mother and I felt we would be able to get through to you.”

Straightening up in her chair, Paris replied, “I’m sorry. You’re right. That came off a bit whiny, which was not my intention when I called. I want you to know that I’m serious about making changes. I need to prove myself to you and mom. I’ve got this,” she stated confidently.

“That’s my girl,” he replied. “I believe in you. If you feel you need a small change with the office, why don’t you take a little money out of the clothing fund you were allotted to clean up the walls and make some minor improvements. It’ll be on your own time, though,” he added.

“Okay,” said Paris.

“Love you, honey,” he said and hung up.

Paris looked around the room again. The walls were forest green, and she suddenly hated the color, but she had to let it go. She’d already agreed to put money from her bonus toward Molly, which left little for her own wardrobe updates. The modified office would be a treat and proof that she’d made it back to her old self, the one that existed before Alli’s death, though in all honesty, the original Paris was gone. This Paris was a hybrid rising from the ashes of the past.

Despite the worn state of her office, she was happy to have it. She was no longer under Angela’s thumb. No more coffee runs or working off of Angela’s demands. They were equals, and what’s more, Paris had a better rate of return than Angela could ever hope for.

“Hey, hotshot,” said Tom.

Paris jumped at the sound of his voice. She hadn’t expected anyone to stop by. She turned her chair around to face him. He looked good as always. His black hair was lightly slicked back and a bit disheveled. His normally controlled ringlets were spilling over into his eyes. He was dressed for the gym, and she could see the sweat glistening on his muscular, lean arms and forehead. Even after a workout, the man took her breath away. “What can I do for you?” she asked.

“I thought I’d check-in and see how you’re feeling now that you’re back in your own office again. I’m sure it’s a relief.”

Paris found herself mesmerized by his wide toothy grin and couldn’t help but stare for a moment. Snapping herself back to reality, she said, “Yes, indeed. It’s nice to be back in my own office. The last few weeks have been hellish.”

“I’m sure,” he replied, running his fingers over the silver apple paperweight that sat on her desk. “Say, would you like to grab an early lunch and discuss the division of clients? I know you want to step up and show the seniors what you’re made of, right?”

Without a second thought, Paris replied, “I’d love to.”

“Wonderful,” said Tom. “Meet me at eleven in the café.”

“Gladly,” she said and watched him as he triumphantly walked away.The day is off to a great start, she thought.

In the office up the hall, Vic was off to a rough beginning. Walking into the building, he’d collided with one of the mail runners, which sent his coffee flying every which way. His shirt took the brunt of the overflow, and unfortunately, it was quite obvious from the looks of the coworkers he passed as he trudged onward to his office. When he opened the door, he found that Chase, while neat in appearance, was not neat when it came to small spaces. His desk was covered in files and stray papers. Grabbing his phone, he pounded in Chase's number.

“Howdy,” replied Chase. “What’s up?”

“What did you do to my desk?” growled Vic.

“What do you mean?”

Vic was shocked that Chase’s response was so innocent. Was he truly oblivious to the way he was running the office? “There are papers and files everywhere. I don’t know where to begin with cleaning this up. You need to get over here now and sort things out.”

“You best watch your tone, and don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’ll be right over. It’s really not that bad,” he said and promptly hung up.

“Not that bad? Seriously? I wonder what his condo looks like?”

“Hey, Ettienne, you talking to yourself?” asked Angela.

“Please call me Vic. You know I don’t care for my formal name,” he replied irritably. He didn’t care how hot she was. No one but his family could call him Ettienne, and even they avoided it unless they were angry.

“Vic, sorry,” she corrected and then confidently marched into his office.

Turning his attention to her, he had to focus hard to keep his jaw from dropping. There she was in her black cage stilettos and a short green cotton skirt with a low-cut flowy blouse and her ample bosom nearly popping out. Surely there was a law against dressing so provocatively at work. To make the situation even more scandalous, she hopped up and sat herself down right in the middle of his messy desk. Crossing her legs, she smiled at him and licked her shiny pink lips.

“How’s your day going so far?” she asked as if she had no idea.

“Chase’s killing me. My desk’s a mess. I don’t know where to start. Some mail runner slammed into me on top of it all, and my coffee spilt all over my shirt. I didn’t bring a spare, so you can guess how that makes me feel.”

“Come over here,” she said softly as she waved him toward her.

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