Page 112 of Timeless

“Shoot.” I opened the cupboards, my hands landing on the ingredients.

Everyone went silent.

And my eyes flashed up. My team was never silent. Silent meant headaches. And long nights.

I turned around, putting the flour on the kitchen island. My eyes went to the interns, who were working on spreadsheets and wouldn’t look up. My three assistants, who had been following me around, nagging me about calls and Skype appointments, were all quiet.

“Okay. What’s the huge problem?” I started measuring out flour. Yeah, I knew doing washing and cooking seemed like useless tasks but I cared more about them than work.

“Well, the Myers’ account average is…” Chels paused.

“Chelsea, I don’t have time for you to be nervous,” I snapped as I moved around her, and Tyler, who’d decided it was a great fucking idea to be in my kitchen, leaning against the kitchen island, eating cornflakes while watching the show called my life.

“Okay, they want to pull.” Chelsea slapped the clipboard down on the kitchen island. “I swear, Amber, I fought but they wouldn’t back down. They honestly couldn’t see the improvements and they want to pull.”

Okay, so we had a problem. “How much do they bring us?” I started to measure the butter.

“Just over forty million,” Mark, my spreadsheet guy, answered. “Quarterly.”

Okay, that’s what they didn’t want to tell me. Silence fell over the room.

“Why are you all silent like someone died? I swear, you haven’t stopped typing, calling, and fucking speaking since you got here,” Tyler asked, throwing the cornflakes up in the air and catching them with his mouth.

“We just lost a 160-million-dollar contract. That’s why,” Chelsea snapped at him. “And your sister worked really hard for them! They are being disrespectful by pulling away from us once she got them a return!”

Tyler glanced at me. “You seriously in control of that much money?”

I pointed a finger up at him. I was doing math. “Okay, that is costing us just over fifty million in company profits.” My mind started to click over the math.

“Amber, I’m so sorry. Look, I’m sure when you approach Mrs. Daniels about the loss, she won’t be too upset.”

I went back to the fridge, grabbing the milk.

“I’ve cost the company nearly two hundred million in account profits, Chelsea. Mrs. Daniels will be murderous.” I was calm as I placed the milk down.

“Blame me, Amber. I know you did everything to keep them. Just blame me.” Chelsea was panicking. Sometimes, as calm as she could be, pressure could get to her. “I don’t need this job, you know that, Amber, so just blame me.”

“Wait a fucking second,” Troy snapped into the conversation. “Amber, you can’t seriously be thinking of letting someone else wear the blame for your mistake!”

That was exactly what I was trying to do. Think.

“Well, we did fail her.” Liam was back from making Jack’s bed. “We are her team. She gets the accounts; we have to keep them.” Liam walked into the room. “Sorry, Miss Shields.”

“You are only an intern, Liam. The blame isn’t on your shoulders.” I was measuring out the milk.

I felt the tension in the air.

“So, we are your team, and we fucked it up. We cost you the Myers’ account,” Beau, one of my assistants, said mournfully.

I poured the milk into the mixing bowl. I was well aware everyone was acting like they had got a death sentence and they thought my silence was me blaming them. But I was busy. Thinking.

I flung around and opened the cupboard and pulled out the mixer.

“Amber, are you fucking serious right now?” Troy snapped at me. “Are you even listening to what the people around you are saying?” He was being defensive because of Chelsea. He liked her. He protected what he liked. So, I didn’t snap at him.

I plugged the mixer in.

“Okay, Amber. I don’t, you know, want to get involved in your business.” Adam spun around on the bar stool. “But I think your team needs your attention right now.” He glanced around at the full room and then looked back at me. “Is team the right word? That’s what they keep calling themselves.”

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