Page 48 of Tempting Frankie
“Looking for the human resources offices, I presume?” he finishes smoothly, gesturing toward a bank of elevators. “Allow me to escort you. We wouldn't want you getting lost on your first day.”
I fall into step beside him, acutely aware of every pair of eyes following us across the lobby. “How chivalrous of you,” I mutter through gritted teeth. “I don't suppose you have a map hidden in that fancy suit?”
His lips twitch, fighting a smile. “I'm afraid not. Though I'd be happy to give you a private tour later.”
The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, and I step inside, praying for the floor to open up and swallow me whole. “I'll hold you to that, Mr. Steele.”
As the doors close, I catch a glimpse of his smirk. It's going to be a long fucking day.
The elevator finally dings, and I swear to god it's the sweetest sound I've ever heard. I'm about to bolt out when Alexander's hand on the small of my back stops me dead in my tracks. His touch is light, but it might as well be a branding iron for how it sears through my top.
“Ladies first,” he murmurs, his breath tickling my ear.
I step out on shaky legs, resisting the urge to flip him off. The hallway stretches out before us. A woman in a crisp pantsuit is waiting, her smile so perfect it has to be botoxed.
“Ah, Meredith,” Alexander says, his CEO voice in full effect. “Allow me to introduce Francesca DeLuca, our new marketing associate.”
Meredith's eyes flick between us, and I swear I can see the cogs turning in her head. Great. Office gossip, here we come.
“It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss DeLuca,” she says, extending a perfectly manicured hand. Her grip is firm enough to crush bones. “Welcome to Steele Enterprises.”
“Thanks,” I manage to squeak out, praying my palm isn't as sweaty as it feels.
Alexander clears his throat, drawing both our attention. “Meredith, I trust you'll get Miss DeLuca squared away? She'll need a full tour of the relevant areas and to be shown to her office.”
“Of course, Mr. Steele,” Meredith chirps, already reaching for a tablet. “I have her onboarding packet ready to go.”
I turn to Alexander, ready to say…something. A snarky comment, a plea for help. Hell, even a 'thanks for the job, boss.' But the words die in my throat when I see the heat simmering in his eyes.
“I look forward to hearing how your first day goes, Miss DeLuca,” he says, his voice low and full of promise. “Don't hesitate to reach out if you need anything.”
And with that, he's gone, leaving me alone with HR Barbie and the lingering scent of his cologne.
“Shall we get started?” Meredith asks, already tapping away on her tablet.
I nod, following her down the hallway like a lost puppy. We pass by glass-walled conference rooms and open-plan workspaces that look like they were ripped straight out of a tech startup's wet dream.
“This is the main hub for our creative teams,” Meredith explains, gesturing to a particularly colorful area filled with beanbag chairs and whiteboards. “You'll be working closely with them on various campaigns.”
I nod, trying to look like I'm not completely overwhelmed. Truth is, I'm still half-convinced this is all some elaborate prank.
We finally reach a corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. My jaw nearly hits the floor. Holy shit, is this mine?
“And this is where you'll be working,” Meredith says, confirming my disbelief. “I think you'll find everything to your liking.”
I step inside, running my fingers over the sleek desk. It's bigger than my entire apartment. There's a state-of-the-art computer setup, a plush leather chair that probably costs more than my car, and even a little seating area with a couch that looks perfect for power naps. Or, you know, other activities. Jesus, Frankie, get your mind out of the gutter.
“Wow,” I breathe, unable to keep the awe from my voice. “This is…something else.”
Meredith beams, clearly pleased with my reaction. “Mr. Steele insisted on the best for our new marketing associate.”
I bet he did, the smug bastard. I'm about to make a snarky comment when a knock at the door interrupts us.
“Ah, perfect timing,” Meredith says, waving in a tall woman with a shock of red hair. “Francesca, I'd like you to meet Miranda Reeves, our head of marketing.”
Miranda strides in on long legs and is full of confident energy. She looks like she just stepped out of a Vogue photoshoot, and I suddenly feel like a potato. Boiled at that, not even crispy like a fry or a tot.
“So, you're the new blood Alexander's been raving about,” Miranda says, eyeing me critically. “I hope you're ready to hit the ground running. We've got a major campaign launch in two weeks, and I need all hands-on deck.”
