Page 4 of Dear Billionaire Boss
I turn back to every set of eyes in the room staring at me. “Yes?”
“So what do you think?”
I think I might be in trouble.
3
MAREN
There’s a subtle shift in the air when Gina Marshall steps off the elevator. I’ve already received a call from the security desk to let me know that she was on her way up, but I don’t think it’s crazy to say that temperature in the office drops a few degrees when she’s around. She’s an arrogant ice princess that likes to think she’s more important than she really is. She’s been handed everything in her life, including the company party she’s been hired to plan for the software launch.
“Gina Marshal to see Grayson,” she says without looking up from her phone.
I’m nothing if not professional, but I did secretly hope that when she was walking and texting towards my desk, that she’d catch her red bottom heel on the carpet and biff it.
“He’s on a call right now, but if you’d like to—”
“It’s fine,” she says walking over to the closed door of his office. “He’s expecting me.”
“No, wait!” I call after her and following her in.
Grayson looks up at the intrusion. One of the Research and Development guys is talking on the speakerphone, but Grayson is quick to hit the mute button on his phone.
“I think someone forgot that we had a working lunch planned for today.” Gina giggles and walks over and sits down in one of the chairs on the other side of Grayson’s desk.
Grayson’s narrow gaze on her swings over to me. I expect to feel the full brunt of his irritation at my inability to keep Gina out. That’s one of my unofficial requirements of my job—I’m the gatekeeper to his office.
I shake my head at him, like there was nothing I could do to stop her, short of tackling her to the ground. And I’m not opposed to that idea, but I don’t think that it would be the most professional approach to the situation.
“Miss Marshall—” I start to say but Grayson holds up his hand to stop me.
“It’s fine.” He shakes his head. “I’m just wrapping up here anyway.”
Gina gives me a little wave of her fingers and I fight the urge to snap a few off her dainty little hand.
I turn and walk out of the office, closing the door behind me. My desk phone is ringing, and I pick it up as I drop into my chair.
“Christopher Grayson’s office.”
“There you are,” Willa says by way of greeting. “I’ve been calling you all morning.”
I open my desk drawer and pull out my cell phone. Sure enough, I see that I’ve missed five calls from Willa and a few text messages.
“What’s wrong?”
“Did you send the letters?” she asks, her voice sounding frantic. “This can’t be happening. You said that we weren’t going to be sending these.”
“Wait,” I say. “Slow down. What are you talking about?”
“The letters!” she shrieks. “The letters we wrote out on Friday night. Someone mailed them.”
I can feel the blood drain from my face, and I feel light headed.
“No.” I shake my head. “That’s not possible. We agreed.”
“So you didn’t mail them out?” she asks.
“What? No! Why would you think that?”
