Page 44 of Fifth Avenue Devil

I check my phone again for messages.

Meet you at your office at 10. – N

That’s the enigmatic, early hour message I received from Nate. Nothing about his sleazy brother. Or about missing me.

Of course not.

Nate remains a mystery to me.

The door swings open, cutting off my thoughts. And there is Nate Fordham in all his infuriating glory. His silver eyes meet mine. And of course, I can't help but notice how the sunlight streaming through the window makes them glint like silver.

"Ms. Gellar," he greets me curtly, striding into the room with an air of authority.

"Mr. Fordham," I reply. I am attempting to maintain a professional façade, to act as if my heart isn’t beating faster just at the sight of him in his crisp Armani suit.

"Are you ready to get down to business?" he asks. His eye contact is blunt, his tone sharp and unyielding.

"Of course," I respond. “Once you tell me what you’re here about.”

“I have a printout of all the employees on the company payroll.” Nate drops a file folder on my desk. “We need to go through each person’s job. Then I’ll assign them a rating.”

I eye him. “And what will that accomplish?”

“It’ll let me know who is essential, and who is potentially redundant, when it comes time to make personnel cuts.”

I rear back. “Are you sure that is the best use of our time?”

“This is what CEOs do.” Nate looks at me sternly. “We function to help the company prosper and deliver profits to the shareholders.”

I can feel my cheeks tinge with heat. “...right…” As if that much should be obvious to me.

Nate pulls up a seat beside me and starts looking at the long list of names, starting with A. I force myself to focus on the matter at hand. After all, it's not just my own future at stake here. I’m making big decisions that will affect my employees.

As we dive into the discussions, I find myself admiring Nate's quick-witted intelligence and ruthless drive. Sure, his cold demeanor can be off-putting at times. But there is no denying that he knows how to command attention.

Nate taps his pen impatiently against my desk as we pore over the employee lists. "We need to be strategic about this. Not every single person is critical to the company's operations."

I grit my teeth. "I disagree. Each employee contributes something valuable. We can't just slash our workforce without considering the impact on the company."

His steely gray eyes bore into mine. Tension crackles between us, sudden and electric.

"Do you really think the mailroom clerk is indispensable? What about the fifteen administrative assistants?" Nate challenges. He leans forward and his crisp white shirt stretches taut to show the lines of his muscular chest. "Be rational here."

Anger flares inside me. How dare he question my judgment like I'm some wide-eyed ingénue straight out of college? I've worked my ass off to prove myself capable of leading Gellar Industries.

"I am being rational. Cutting jobs left and right is short-sighted. It destroys morale."

My pen moves deliberately down the list, marking almost every name as vital. Nate's brows rise in disbelief. I won't be cowed by his magnetic presence or ruthless business tactics.

"This company needs me to make tough calls. If you're too softhearted to do it, I will."

I scoff. "Softhearted? These are people with families, Nate. I’m sorry that I’m not ready to give them all the axe."

Nate smirks, confident and aggravating. "Keep telling yourself that, Kitten. We'll see who's right in the end."

God, I hate how much he affects me. I shake my head.

“I’m making a list of employees that are not superstars. Don’t get too excited, because it will be short.”

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