Page 5 of Jack Frost, CEO

I gather my paperwork, shake Martha’s hand, and walk out the door.

What just happened?

I clutch my papers tighter to my chest. I got the job and will still get paid—more than I’ve ever been paid in the States. When I reach the sidewalk, I look around.

Maybe this is finally working…

Chapter 4

Jack

“This isn’t working.”

I look up from my Americano to see my new assistant standing in my doorway. Her long blonde hair is in a tight bun, her glasses perched on her pert nose. Her skirt is long enough to be proper but tight enough to show that she either wears thongs or nothing at all to work. I clear my throat as my mind wanders to what she may or may not be wearing under that skirt.

“What is not working, exactly, Miss Mitchell?” I glance at my computer screen and notice it’s only 6:15 in the morning. “You’re not scheduled to clock in for another forty-five minutes.”

She waves a dismissive hand and walks toward me with a clipboard. “Yes, but Martha said I could come in early. Now, what isn’t working is your schedule. You’re double-booked half the day and have meetings with clients that should be delegated to other departments. I’ll have to completely redo your entire calendar, and I want to know which appointments are a must-have for today.” She extends the clipboard to me.

I glance down at the piece of paper and realize she’s correct. I have double-booked and agreed to meetings where my attendance shouldn’t be mandatory. Sighing, I rub my face before ticking off six appointments I know I can’t possibly push. Then I hand the clipboard back, and Maisie glances over the pages.

“Okay, I can work with this. You have a dinner reservation with Amberly at La Bella Vita tonight.” She lifts the top sheet. “Do you want to keep this or move it?” Maisie clutches the clipboard to her chest and stands there attentively.

“Tell Amberly I will meet her, but I won’t be able to stay for dessert. She is more than welcome to order and put it on my tab—she’s going to anyway. Also, my mother’s birthday is this week, so if you could arrange for a bouquet of white roses with lilies to be delivered. The address should be in the system and block out next Saturday afternoon. I won’t be available for work. I’m going to spend my mother’s birthday with her. That will be all, Miss Mitchell.”

She turns and walks away, and when I catch myself staring at her ass, I force myself to go back to my emails.

I’m forty-five pages into the quarterly projections report when my doors open again. I look up and realize I’ve been working—uninterrupted—for hours. Shaking out the knots across the top of my back and shoulders, I jolt as a tray containing a club sandwich, a side salad, and a fresh Americano is placed on my desk. More specifically, on top of my report.

“You know, I never understood Yanks and their Americanos. You’re ruining good espresso.”

I peer up, meet my new assistant’s twinkling eyes, and swallow roughly. “Miss Mitchell, there is nothing wrong with an Americano. What happened to my schedule? I thought I had several meetings before lunch.” I pull my report from beneath the tray and set it aside.

“You marked that you wanted to keep meetings with Hastings, Fellows, three board members, and the leads for four projects. Hastings is sick. He canceled. The meeting with Fellows is scheduled for one—so you need to eat that sandwich now—and the board members had questions about dividends. I asked if I could resend the reports they’d already received, according to previous calendars, and that took care of that. Your meeting with the team leads is now a joint meeting, as they are all having issues behaving like adults. And thus, they will not be treated as such. I will be in this meeting to take notes and ensure the projects are on track.”

She delivers that last line while I’m midbite, and I immediately start coughing as the sandwich goes the wrong way. Maisie rushes behind my desk and pounds me on the back with way more force than I anticipate.

I wave her away and sip my coffee before reaching for my napkin. “What do you mean not behaving like adults?”

“Well, each of their projects hinges on the part of the other, and no one wants to take responsibility for why they are six weeks behind without notes or justifications for the bottleneck. So, since no one is keeping up with the required documentation and no department wants to accept responsibility or offer a solution to get back on track, they can discuss it with you as a team. I see no reason for them to flood your calendar with multiple meetings that will essentially all be the same, but with different teams throwing each other under the bus.”

She gestures for me to eat while I’m trying to pick my jaw off the floor. “What did you say your degree was in again, Miss Mitchell?”

“I didn’t, but it’s in business administration.” She turns and walks out the door, and I’m stuck staring after her, wondering what the hell just happened. In less than twenty-four hours, this girl has completely turned my company on its head. And I couldn’t be happier.

Chapter 5

Maisie

The phone on my desk rings the second I sit back down after taking Jack his lunch. “Foster Inc., this is Maisie.”

“I need to speak to Jack.” The feminine voice on the other end of the line is brusque and borders on rudeness.

I wrinkle my nose. I have a few pet peeves, but being rude is at the top. “I’m having a wonderful day. Thank you for asking. However, Mr. Foster is not available. He is in a lunch meeting. Can I take a message?” I keep my tone polite despite sticking my tongue out.

“Listen, you put him on this phone right now and tell him I will not be ignored like this! How dare he think he—”

That’s all I hear as I set the receiver on the desk and pick up my sandwich. Peanut butter and jelly. My go-to, cheap and filling lunch for the last several weeks. I take a bite and chew while the shrew on the other end of the line continues to rant and rave. Stella walks up to my desk as the lady on the phone goes silent. I pick up the receiver and hold up a finger.

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