Page 3 of Jack Frost, CEO

I don’t want to look at that too closely.

“So, Miss Mitchell. Gio tells me you are highly competent, a hard worker, and would be an asset to my company while you’re still in the States. If all of this is true, then how, pray tell, have you not been able to complete the required a hundred and eighty internship hours in the nine months you were allotted? That is roughly five weeks’ worth of work, eight on the outside.” I take off my glasses, rest them on my desk, and steeple my fingers.

She ducks her head, and a cascade of blonde curls hides her face. She mumbles something, but I miss it.

“Miss Mitchell. I detest mumbling. Please give me the respect I’m due. Look at me and answer the question.”

Her head snaps up, and red slashes across her cheeks. “I’ve been smashing out two jobs since I arrived. Between working to pay for rent, food, and classes, I didn’t have the extra time. I would’ve finished earlier, but I need to sleep too.” Her accent is thick, and the fire in her eyes threatens to consume me. I can tell she’s annoyed. I fucking love it. Her blush deepens as she stares at her clenched fists. “I’m sorry. That was incredibly rude of me.”

I wave a hand, dismissing her apology. I wanted an honest reaction, and I received one. “It was an entirely insensitive question on my part. Gio didn’t mention that you’ve been working so much. So you still need to complete your requirements. Doesn’t Antony—I mean, your father—send you money?”

She exhales and glances at the ceiling. Out of habit, I also glance up, even though I know there’s nothing worth looking at.

“My mother died when I was twelve. The following year, he sent me to boarding school. I haven’t seen him for more than a weekend at a time since then. Seems a daughter didn’t fit into his lifestyle. One of the reasons I came to the States to go to uni was the distance. However, going against his wishes meant I was cut off. At the time, it seemed like a fair trade. Uncle Gio sent me some funds when he learned that Father wasn’t helping to support me. However, I used most of it to pay off some loans.” If possible, her cheeks turn an even brighter shade of scarlet, and she puts a hand up to each one, trying to hide them. “Why am I telling you this? I’m SO SORRY.”

My eyebrows must be at my hairline when she finishes her story. I need to let Gio know about this. There is no way he knows the full extent of Antony’s neglect. I bet Monica has something to do with it too, but I keep that thought to myself.

I take a minute to look at her again, not her honey-yellow hair or chocolate-brown eyes. I look deeper. Her skirt, while tidy, has been mended several times, and her white button-up is slightly baggy, as if she’s recently lost weight. Her shoes on her primly crossed feet are scuffed, and I doubt it’s because they’re her favorite pair.

I rest my mouth against my interlocked fingers and study Maisie intently. She needs more help than she realizes, and while I could inform Gio and let him handle it, I’ve found that I want to be the one to care for her. This feeling is shocking, to put it mildly.

“Well, Miss Mitchell, if you were to come to work for me, you would have to give up your other employment. I need you to focus on your tasks and not worry about making it to another shift.”

When she opens her mouth to protest, I hold up a finger to halt her.

“However, I do understand the cost of living. So, for half the day, you will be paid as my assistant at the going market rate for the position. You will log your internship hours for the other half of the day. If we have to do any traveling, I will count those as double hours, as there will be many situations that require my attention outside the office setting. Is this agreeable to you?”

Her eyes are as wide as saucers, and it appears all she can do is nod.

“Fantastic. Meet with Martha in Human Resources. She will provide all the information you need for your first day. Seeing as it’s Friday, I will see you bright and early Monday morning. That will be all, Miss Mitchell.” I gesture toward my door and turn back to my computer.

She stands from her chair, curtsies, and then walks out. I wait until the door closes behind her and laugh. I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed this hard. Shaking my head, I unlock my screen to email Martha.

Damn, if Gio doesn’t have a lot to answer for.

After I hit send, my mind wanders back to Maisie—Miss Mitchell. She doesn’t look like Antony. She must resemble her mother, and if that’s the case, I can fully understand why my former friend was enamored with the woman in high school. I may hate Antony, but I refuse to let Maisie feel the effects of that hatred. It seems she’s suffered enough in her life already.

Chapter 3

Maisie

Iwalk out of Jack’s office in a daze. This was not how I expected the day to go when I woke up this morning. Back at the lift bank, I realize I don’t know where I’m supposed to go, and I don’t want to go back and bother Jack—I mean, Mr. Foster.

I groan inwardly. Did I really curtsy?

I look around and see a girl sitting at a desk. “Excuse me? G’day. I was wondering if you could tell me where to find Martha? I was told to go talk to her.”

The girl looks up at me and grins. “Welcome! Are you a new hire?”

I nod my head, and she claps.

“Fantastic! We need more women around here. It’s a bit of a sausage fest, if you know what I mean.”

The man in the cubicle next to her leans back. “You know, Stella, if you’re looking for some sausage...” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and the girl I now know as Stella lobs a rubber band at him.

“Ignore Jeremy. He’s a moron. His mother dropped him on his head as a baby. It’s the only thing that explains why his head is so big, but he’s dumb as rocks.”

“Hey!” Jeremy protests before sticking his tongue out and returning to his work.

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