Page 24 of Desserts for Stressed People

Damn right it will. And if everything goes as I want it to, Alex will be needing a new apartment.

* * *

I sharea coffee with my team and deliver the news. Dalton is the most upset I’m leaving, and I’m pretty sure it’s because I look the other way on how often he takes a cigarette break. He’s quick with his work and delivers nothing wrong, so I have no reason to complain.

“Come on, guys. It’s one-and-a-half months.”

Lucy nervously twirls a lock of her hair around her finger. “Will we get a new manager?”

“Yes. He’s a consultant, but I’ve been promised he’s great.”

Her nose scrunches up. “We’ll have to take orders from a man?”

Dalton asks why that’s so bad, eliciting a debate over gender differences in management. With a smile, I watch the people I’m sure I’ll come to miss over the next six weeks and sip my coffee.

“Heaven?”

We all turn to whoever the woman at the door is, and there’s no doubt whatsoever that she’s from the sixth floor. She’s looking at us like we’re a group of stray cats with twelve ears each. Her legs must be longer than the highway, and her hair is so perfect it almost looks plastered. Not one rebellious hair in her ebony bob, not one wrinkle in her short white dress.

“Yes?”

She focuses her disgusted glare on me. “I’m here to brief you about the Devòn project.”

All my colleagues have similar annoyed expressions on their faces. Understandably so, because this woman is anything but friendly or warm. “Okay. I’ll see you guys at the Watering Hole.”

Everyone waves, and I can read the sympathy in their eyes. They don’t have it nice, but I have it much worse.

After silently following the grumpy woman into the elevator, I turn to her. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Marina.”

Marina.Even her name sounds like it belongs to fashion magazines. “What’s your role?”

She tilts her head, her hair bouncing from one side to the other, then immediately going back in place as a fruity perfume invades my nostrils. “Assistant to the director.”

Huh. She’s Mr. Asshole’s assistant. Also, I should probably stop calling him that before it settles in my brain and I say it out loud by mistake.

We get out of the elevator, and as far as the eye can see, this place looks exactly like my floor. Except for the people in it, roaming from one side of the office to the other like worker ants.

They’re in a rush. They’re beautiful. They don’t smile.

I purse my lips and try to fix my hair. Though it’s in its usual braid, I don’t need a mirror to know there’s a crown of frizz that has escaped it like it always does in humid weather.

“This way,” Marina says, pointing to an empty office. She turns to the shelf, grabs a folder, and drops it on the desk with a thump. “This is everything you need. You also have virtual copies on your computer, and as we speak, the tech office is setting up your account.”

“Is it not the same as the one I have on the fourth floor?”

She shakes her head with a smirk, but her voice remains flat. “No. We use something better than your free trial software.”

I stare at her and say nothing. Not only do we not use a free trial of anything, but I was the one who suggested we use Dawnty, the project management software the entire fourth floor relies on. “Okay.”

She walks away without looking back, leaving me alone in the bleak, empty office. At least the glass walls here are so clean you could easily walk into them if you’re not careful enough, and everything smells like disinfectant, which soothes my nerves a little.

With a sigh, I turn on my computer, finding the files I need. It’ll take me a couple of days to go through everything, and considering the event is in six weeks, I’m going to assume we don’t have those two days.

I start anyway, scrolling through endless documents.

There's a list of requirements for the space we still need to find and the top ten choices available. I can already see issues with three of them, so I make a note that I’ll show Mr. Ass—Mr. Hassholm when I meet him.

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