Page 1 of The Love Audit
CHAPTER ONE
Jasmine
Jasmine!” Cassie punctuated my name by slamming her open palm on the desk that I was nervously pacing in front of.
“What, Cassie?” I snapped, stopping short before turning to her and crossing my arms over my chest.
“You know wearing a hole in the floor of my rug is not going to make the clock move any faster, and I know your feet are killing you.” She laughed.
I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes at her before resuming my mini marathon in her office. She was right, of course. Everyone in the office has been on edge since our company was acquired by MasonCorp, a notoriously ruthless mega conglomerate, most well-known for gobbling up smaller companies like Pac-Man and making them insanely profitable. This doesn’t sound like such a problem, unless you know that it drives profits by slashing personnel. Everyone knows that when the higher-ups point their red pencils at the budget, public relations and advertising arethe first on the chopping block. One would think that managing a company’s public persona and driving sales would be the most important parts of a company, but nobody seems to remember that until an executive gets caught exposing themselves on a Zoom call. Suddenly, we’re gods.
In an effort to make the company more attractive to a prospective buyer, the advertising and PR departments were downsized and combined. Cassie and I were lucky enough to avoid the chopping block that time. This time, I didn’t feel so lucky.
“Who calls a meeting at 10:47 a.m.?” I huffed and flopped onto the couch that lined the wall, perfectly bisecting our shared office, before slipping off my stilettos and attempting to sooth the balls of my feet on Cassie’s sheepskin rug without her noticing.
“It feels like a power move.” She raised an eyebrow at my bare feet but didn’t say a word. “It’s like they’re scheduling these meetings back-to-back with just enough time to tell you to pack your stuff.”
“I cannot lose this job, Cas.” I jumped to my feet and began pacing again.
“Yes, you can.”
I stopped and stared at her, my head tilted in confusion.
“You are an Ivy League, trust fund debutante with parents who are richer than God.” She glared at me with a small smirk, daring me to contradict her. “You’ll be fine.”
“That’s not the point, Cassie.” I smirked at her. “And did you forget that you are also an Ivy League alumnus and that my rich parents are friends with your rich parents, Miss Fellow Trust Fund Debutante?”
“No,” she quipped and stood from her desk. “That’s how I know that we’re gonna be okay. C’mon, let’s get this over with.” She straightened her jacket, pushed the door open, and held it for me. “You’re gonna regret taking off those shoes.”
I was completely silent for the entire elevator ride to the sixty-seventh floor. My work bestie was usually cool under pressure, but her silence spoke volumes. She was nervous, too. My parents were wealthy and successful, but that didn’t matter to me. I was determined to make a name for myself beyond being Jasmine Morgan, daughter of Celine and Jasper Morgan, legendary corporate titans. Not to mention the nasty rumors, whispered about my parents since the dissolution of their first company. I knew they weren’t true, but they didn’t help in the court of public opinion.
“Jasmine Morgan and Cassaundra West,” I addressed the receptionist on the sixty-seventh floor. I knew everyone who worked at Westwood, but didn’t recognize her, so I assumed she must be from MasonCorp. I briefly wondered which of my coworkers I’d be seeing for the last time as I refocused on her mild expression. “We have a 10:47 a.m. meeting with Edward Mason.”
“Yes, of course, you’re from the PR/advertising division of Westwood.” Her eyes remained glued to her computer screen. “You’re a few minutes early, and Mr. Mason is running a few minutes behind schedule. You can have a seat, and I’ll let you know when he’s ready.”
I nodded and turned in the direction she’d gestured, still without looking up from her computer, and scanned the sparsely populated waiting room. I recognized some of the occupants from theoffice. Some were new to me, until my gaze fell on a face I hadn’t seen in almost fifteen years.
It was a face that I never thought I’d see again.
My heart stopped, and my impending meeting with the man who currently held my professional fate in his hands flew out of my head. He was as handsome as I remembered, but the near decade and a half since we’d seen each other had made him older and more distinguished.
I barely registered Cassie guiding me to an empty pair of chairs before I lowered myself into the seat next to hers, tearing my eyes away from him.
We sat in silence while we waited to be called. I pulled out my phone and began to scroll in an effort to keep my thoughts on anything except the man in the expertly tailored suit and the wire-rimmed glasses seated across the room. I wondered if he’d notice me or if he’d even remember who I was if he did. I couldn’t risk making eye contact with him because I don’t know what he would do or say if I did, or worse, what I would do or say. Either way, I couldn’t afford to lose focus. Today was too important. I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath.
“Here are the files from all the dead projects Mr. Mason asked for.” A young man in his early twenties dropped a stack of file folders on the receptionist’s desk, drawing my attention.
“Great. Are they all there?”
“They should be.” The man leaned over the desk and began flipping through the folders, reading off the names. “BetterTech, BioCorp, Leviathan, Miller’s Cove, Globeworks, Prime Motors, North Star Communications…” His voice drifted off.
“Cliff Enterprises & Radiant Intelligence?”
“Crap.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll be right back.” He left the stack on the desk before turning and hurrying toward the elevators. The receptionist must have felt my gaze because she turned to me, raising a questioning eyebrow. I pasted on a smile and quickly averted my eyes, embarrassed to be caught eavesdropping, only to lock eyes with him, the man I’d been actively trying to avoid.
My body felt immediately hot. I quickly searched his face for any recognition, and maybe any derision. His expression and lingering gaze were unreadable.
I couldn’t muster up a polite smile after all these years, so I dragged my attention to my phone screen. Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait in the awkward tension for long since we were called into the conference room. We rose and took a step toward the door before the receptionist called out, “Oh, just department heads.” She raised her eyebrow at Cassie, who responded with an annoyed tilt of the head. “Sorry for the confusion.”
