Page 25 of So Not My Type

“Did you hear me?” Ella asked, her fingers suspended over the keyboard.

“I heard you.”

Ella exhaled through her nose. “I couldn’t tell because you didn’t say anything.”

Sophie’s face flamed. “What do you want me to say? I’m not your boss. I don’t need to give you permission. For a newbie, I’d normally tell you to check with the manager, but since your dad is the CEO, I sincerely doubt the same rules apply to you.”

Ella’s bottom lip clamped between her teeth. She pounded her keyboard with such ferocity that the letters were likely to crack off and pop across the room.

The cursor froze on Sophie’s computer. She clicked and shook the mouse. And clicked again.Really?Tossing Post-its, notepads, and too many pens aside, she dug around the desk drawer for replacement batteries. She slammed the drawer and rummaged through a different one.

Stupid low batteries. She didn’t have time for this. Her heavy combat boots thudded against the floor as she crossed over to the storage room.

Malcolm was inside, digging through a cabinet. “Morning, sunshine.” He tossed a quick glance behind his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

She banged one cabinet, then another.Where are the goddamn batteries?“Is our admin out or something? How am I supposed to work if I can’t even get batteries for my freaking mouse?”

“Whoa, whoa.” He held up his hands. “It’s way too close to the weekend for this much aggression.” He opened the cabinet to the left of him and pointed. “The admin sent out an email that they reorganized the supplies. You must not have seen it?”

She ripped a package from the shelf and looked up as Malcolm dipped his head. “What are you looking at?”

He lifted his dad eyebrow that could deflect anything, and she softened. “Sorry.” She exhaled. “I sound like a jerk.”

He brought his index finger and thumb an inch apart. “Just a tad.” He tugged on his black beard and leaned against the counter. “This is what burnout looks like, Sophie. You’re a classic, textbook case. You need to slow down.”

She vise-gripped the package, but finally admitted defeat and handed it over. “No, I need to hustle now, so I can slow down later.”

He tore the wrapping and dropped the batteries in her hand. “I really hate that I’m contributing to your pressure so you can go on the cruise.”

“I’m glad you are.” The last thing she needed was for him to change his mind and say she couldn’t go anymore. The cruise was the only thing keeping her afloat. “I want this so bad. I just… Ugh.” She scraped at her thumbnail paint with her other thumb.

Malcolm stood silently for several long moments, then tossed the packaging into recycling, and rested against the wall. “Talk to me.”

Malcolm had a new baby. And a wife, diaper duty, a lawn to mow, and dishes to clean. He had multiple employees, juggled reports, expenses, client meetings, and God knew what else. Fresh dark circles lined under his eyes, and yawns replaced his normal laughter. The very last thing he needed was her complaining.

“Sophie.”

“I hate working with Ella.” She glanced up at him, praying she didn’t see disappointed eyes. “When you told me I was training someone, I had no idea it would be King George’s freaking daughter—who’s never had a job in her life.”

Malcolm crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Hmmm. Lack of experience is tough, but she’s educated, smart, and dedicated, right? Or is she slacking?”

Sophie might have been pissed about Ella leaving early on a Friday night to swing by Tiffany’s for a two-week charm bracelet, but it wasn’t her style to tattle. “Nah. I mean, she’s here early, stays late, and pays attention.”

“You always wanted to be a trainer, right? You realize not every trainee will be perfect.”

The words sunk low and heavy. He was right. Part of proving she could handle this mentor role meant she needed to choke back the irritation. The last thing she needed was Malcolm thinking she couldn’t make it as a leader. She rolled the batteries in her palms and exhaled, relaxing her stomach.

She leaned forward, squinting at a white stain on his shoulder. “Dude, what’s up with your shoulder?”

He pinched the fabric and peeked. “Ugh. Baby spit.”

She grinned. “How’s the lack of sleep going for you?”

“Amazing, as you can see.” He swiped at his shoulder. “I’m going to clean up. Be easy on her. She’s new.”

Sophie left the room as Malcolm’s words sunk in. She jutted her head to a copywriter who dragged themselves with what looked like a gnarly hangover. After rounding the corner, she sucked in a breath as she approached the desk.

“I think the creative brief came in.” Ella’s words were sharp. “At least that’s what the email said. I scanned it but wasn’t sure if you wanted to review it together.”

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