Page 10 of Dear Grumpy Boss

It should, she was right. But that wasn’t how it worked. A million compliments could be decimated by one insult.

I was still pretty decimated by the GIF. As much as I didn’t want to be. But that had nothing to do with today. Today was about leaving behind the drudgery of Richthink and a career path I’d mistakenly stumbled down and establishing myself as a professional writer.

Elise Levy

Copywriter

Andes, Inc.

My new title was embossed on my freshly made business cards. I wasn’t certain I needed them, but when Elliot had handed me a box containing five hundred, I’d gotten butterflies.

“Okay, I believe you.” I met her eyes in the mirror. “I think I’m ready to go.”

She smiled.

I smiled back.

Here it goes.

Andes, Inc. headquarters stood out from the high-rises around it. At eight stories, it had been built as an environmentalist’s dream. A green space and solar panels on the roof, light shelves, and energy efficient window coating, its carbon footprint was lower than any building its size in the state.

I’d read this on the website before my first interview.

I always overprepared myself. It was a Levy trait. Elliot didn’t meet anyone without compiling a dossier on them. Of course, he was CEO of a multibillion-dollar company and I was a simple copywriter—the butterflies were still there just thinking about my new title—so our scales of preparedness were slightly different, but the point remained the same.

I walked into the lobby. Bright light filled the open, four-story foyer surrounded by windows. I was early, so it wasn’t crowded, but it wasn’t empty either. My heart was in my throat as I strode to the bank of glass-enclosed elevators. Nerves and excitement blended. I’d be fine once I got started. It was the unknown that had me on edge.

The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped in with two other women. Polite smiles were exchanged then they picked up their conversation on fall designs.

“Hold the elevator.” A gruff command just outside the sliding doors.

My hand shot out, hitting the open button. I looked up, my breath catching at the man in a fitted suit, crisp white shirt, no tie.

Weston Aldrich stepped into the elevator, his head down, tapping on his phone.

It had been years since I’d seen him.

“Eight,” he murmured, turning to face the front.

The women stopped talking, looking at me with expectation, but I was frozen in place. What could they possibly expect from me?

The elevator began to move, and Weston glanced at the panel of numbers closer to him than where I was, slightly behind his right shoulder. Had he wanted me to push his floor for him?

We ascended, and I studied Weston’s back. I’d forgotten how much space he took up. Not just from his immense height and the breadth of his shoulders but his presence. He seemed to stretch the air around him.

We stopped on three, and the two women hurried off. Weston reached forward, hitting the eight. The doors closed, leaving us alone. He moved over, almost beside me instead of in front, leaving plenty of space between us. Always considerate like that.

I stared at my shoes. If he noticed me, recognized me, he didn’t say a word. That was what I wanted. At least for today.

There was no hope I’d avoid Weston forever. This was his company, after all,andhe was Elliot’s best friend. Even if I managed to get out of socializing with him with my brother, I would be in the same building with him every day.

Day one—we were already sharing an elevator.

We finally arrived on the seventh floor, and in my periphery, Weston raised his head. As I stepped forward, he glanced at me. I held my breath, bracing myself, but he didn’t say a word.

As soon as the opening was wide enough for me to fit, I was through the doors, charging forward like I knew exactly where I was going. Fortunately, I ended up at a reception desk, leaving Weston behind.

The receptionist for the creative floor, where I worked, showed me to my desk. There were no cubes at Andes. The entire space was open, some individual desks, some long tables meant for collaborating.

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