Page 3 of Under the Mistletoe
I run a fashion empire. Most of the women who work for me are either trying to get in my bed or on the front cover of a magazine. Many use me for my connections, for my profile. They love to take photos and expand their social media. Something I’m hotly against. They almost fall over themselves to get to me. This woman looks uninterested in either of those options. She’s small in stature, yet she’s completely captivating.
“A common theme for you?”
“Somewhat.” Straight to the point, so I match her energy.
“This file is outstanding.”
“Thank you.”
“You have things in here that our team have been trying to achieve for over twelve months…” Picking up the file again, I flick through, still thoroughly impressed.
“That’s why Shelley hired me.”
“On a project basis, is that right?” I glance at her employment file on my desk. Apparently, I didn’t look at it closely enough to know that Jay Jay isn’t a man.
“Correct. Assuming you’re pleased with everything, the project completion date and my contract end in a few weeks.”
“Do you want to leave?” I’m winging this now. But as she pushes up her glasses again, her eyes land on mine, and there’s absolutely no way I’m letting her walk out of here. Her gaze is unwavering, and my body fills with a renewed sense of challenge. A feeling I haven't felt for a very long time. In business or my personal life.
She looks taken aback by my statement so I continue.
“The work you’ve done to date here is financial, but I need eyes like yours on our logistics, our exports, our manufacturing. I’m working on an acquisition strategy that I could use your help with. There are more measures we can take to streamline, forecast, and restructure. York Enterprises should not only remain profitable but also grow market share.”
“You already hold the majority market share.”
“Thirty-five percent is hardly a majority,” I banter back.
“There’s no one else that comes close.”
“Still… I think it’s time for a solid acquisition strategy.” I see the wheels in her head turning. I want to grow this business; I want more for York than my father ever thought possible.
Her head tilts in question as she says, “Jasper Textiles…”
I grin. I’ve known her for five minutes, and I’m already certain we’d work well together. Her thoughts mirror my own. She’s quick. On point. My heart's racing.
“I’ve been wanting to buy them for a while.” The Jasper family has been a thorn in my side for years. Underhanded, unethical, and desperate to see me fail.
“They’re an obvious choice. Unlikely to sell, yet vulnerable.”
“You’ve worked in fashion textiles before?” I grab her employment file again. I must have missed something else.
“Never.”
Her answer has my head whipping back up, eyes meeting hers. “Never?” She’s got to be kidding. The quality of work she’s done… Her insights…
“No. My last job was in lawn sprinklers.”
“Lawn sprinklers?” What the hell is she talking about?
“It’s a two point eight billion dollar industry,” she tells me simply.
“Huh.” I toss the file aside, knowing it's not going to tell me what I want. I’d rather have my eyes on her anyway. She’s steadfast, clever, and distractingly beautiful. As I glance at her hands and see no rings, my shoulders lower a little. Those thoughts shouldn’t matter. I don’t care about the personal lives of my employees, and I sure as hell shouldn’t be entertaining any romantic notions with a staff member. And yet as I notice her minimal jewelry, I know diamonds would look good on her.
The room is still as I step around my desk and lean against the front, gripping on to the edge so I keep a little distance from her. Because the urge to walk over and touch her face is disturbingly strong.
Fuck. My thoughts are already so unprofessional, it's startling.
“So you come into businesses, lift profits, decrease expenses, add value to shareholders… and then… disappear?”
