Page 21 of The Billionaire's Wake-up-call Girl

She doesn’t know! There’s still time!

I deposit my coat and briefcase and fire up my computer. I log in to the company intranet and see a green dot by Mr. Drummond’s name. He’s up there. All systems go.

My plan is to head back out into the hall as if I’m going to use the restroom and hop the elevator right up to the fifteenth floor. I’ll burst right into Mr. Drummond’s office and beg for two minutes of his time. I’ll tell him it’s urgent. It’s not like I have anything to lose.

I steel myself and set off down the row of cubicles.

Sasha is not at her desk when I pass by. Not a good sign, but she could be anywhere, right?

I turn the corner, and I see her at the front, talking to Betsy, the receptionist. She raises an arched brow as I pass. “Leaving so soon?”

Translation: You should’ve peed on your own time! Even though I’m early.

I smile. It could be worse. A lot worse! “BRB,” I say.

“Wait,” she says. “We need to go over the site map with IT.” She pulls out her phone. “Does eleven work for you?”

I fire up my phone. “Yeah. I don’t have anything set in stone right then.”

The door opens behind me. I don’t think anything of it until Sasha straightens up, shoulders back, face bright.

I turn.

Mr. Drummond.

“Hi…uh…” My voice is barely a whisper.

He doesn’t seem to hear or really notice me at all. “Sasha, do you have a moment?”

Nooooo!

My fingers close around my phone so hard, the thing nearly bends in half. He’s here about the wake-up call. He’s going to yell at Sasha. And then she’ll fire me.

“Mr. Drummond!” she says. “Of course.”

I feel a sob well up in my chest. I’m so fired.

If only Sasha hadn’t waylaid me! I could’ve caught Mr. Drummond in the hall. Done the funny-story thing. Appealed to his practicality. Begged. Groveled.

“The wake-up-call service you arranged,” he says.

“Yes?” she says.

I wince. He thinksshearranged it. This is just getting worse.

Betsy types away, oblivious to the carnage about to take place in her midst. I gather my courage. “So, you guys, a funny story—”

Sasha gives me a shocked look. “Excuse me? Mr. Drummond’s in the middle of speaking.”

“I just think I should tell you—” I look over to find Mr. Drummond looking equally annoyed. My words die under the heat of his gaze.

He turns back to Sasha. “Was there anything unusual about the way they advertised? The way they described their service?”

I stare at the floor, pulse racing.

Sasha tilts her head. “Why do you ask?” What else can she say? She has no idea what service I arranged.

“It was…” He pauses, seems to search for the word. “…unorthodox. I was curious…”

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