Page 114 of Savage Suit
The moment we walked into the building’s lobby, its vastness swallowed me. The entrance mimicked the exterior’s Art Déco style but with antique furniture. Large wooden columns surrounded the reception station where a pale-skinned, strawberry blonde woman sat. 1920s-esque chandeliers hung in strategic places, near the myriad velvet seating sprinkled throughout the area. The layout, designed to showcase the vintage art on the walls, allowed visitors to stare in awe.
The Amage brothers fully embraced the style of the near-century-old exterior. Fine with me. The Roaring 20s was one of my favorite eras.
“Mr. Keegan,” the receptionist greeted as we approached her, clearly awfully familiar with him.
“Ms. Jovan,” Noah said, nodding.
She beamed at him, and I sighed.
Her hazel eyes shifted to me, surprise entering them. “Who is this?”
Either she didn’t watch the news, or ignored online sites, both legitimate and otherwise. For days, I had been the story du jour, picked apart to the nth degree. In turns, maligned and defended, analyzed for everything from my hair to my makeup to my tuxedo dress. Some circles categorized my confrontation with Ingrid Warrington as unprofessional, while other claimed it was long overdue. Sympathizers countered accusations that Quinn’s meltdown was staged. They wondered why security didn’t usher out the media sooner. One day I was the scapegoat and, the next, a heroine.
“Ryan Hagen.” Ms. Jovan’s voice brought me back to the present.
I’d missed Noah’s introduction.
“My project manager for the Amage contract,” he said. “We’re here for the presentation to the brothers and to formally introduce her.”
She offered a tight smile.
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Jovan,” I said.
“Oh,” she responded, then pressed a button on the phone system and spoke into her headset to announce our arrival. “You two can go right on up now,” she said a moment later. “I assume you know the floor where the boardroom is located, Mr. Keegan?”
Though the brothers owned the entire building, they leased out much of the space, only reserving three floors for themselves.
“Yes,” Noah responded. “Thank you, Ms. Jovan.”
“Good luck, Ms. Hagen.”
“Thank you,” I replied, trailing behind Noah as he walked to the elevators.
We boarded in silence.
The previous days passed as if we had no carnal knowledge of each other. Noah treated me no differently than all his employees, curt at best. Despite what he’d said, I’d hoped he would change his mind. Instead, his treating me like everyone else disappointed me. In his eyes, I was simply another one of his workers. Prior to my hiring, I believed we shared a mutual attraction. Well, obviously we had. Otherwise, that night in his office wouldn’t have happened.
During the two meetings we’d had in the previous week, he’d stuck to business. They were quick discussions, designed for updates from me. Megan backed off after a curt email explaining her error about my responsibility for any damages to my outfit. The two times I’d seen Nicholas since the scene in my office, he barely acknowledged me. In contrast, Tina texted me every morning asking if I needed anything. Mrs. Mikes went out of her way to help me, while Billy had turned into my personal chef. The moment my driver pulled in front of the building, Billy texted me and asked if I needed breakfast and found out what I wanted for lunch. It was a shocking turn of events, considering how my first day went.
Professionally, things had settled down. Ironic, considering today might very well be my last day. In my heart, I believed Noah still intended to fire me. I hadn’t even received my contract yet, which made sense if he planned to let me go.
Personally, life marched on. Sandy was officially declared dead. She needed a new transmission. I couldn’t bring myself to condemn her to a junkyard, yet I had to decide what to do with her. I finally spoke to Armani, and she didn’t confirm or deny the truth of Ingrid’s words. Quinn moped around. And despite my half- asleep declaration to call Ian, I hadn’t and never would.
A ding heralded our arrival on floor seventeen, where we stepped into what amounted to another lobby. The Amage name and logo greeted me in an antique fleur-de-lis design and gorgeous cursive lettering. Amage emblems hit me from both my right and left.
I shifted my briefcase from one hand to the other, nervous and excited to make my presentation and prove my worth. Of course, the reason Keegan Enterprises was so successful was because of the different subsidiaries with qualified individuals in certain positions. But I’d never realized how many people wanted to see KMG lose the Amage contact and not produce the special perfume until my push for the release in Noah’s timeframe. I was indebted to Reid and what an immense help he’d been to me. I was almost positive the fragrance would get the green light, even if the marketing contract for the pillar campaign was a lost cause.
Noah and I walked toward a brunette woman sitting behind another reception station. A gold and wood nameplate read Joanne Blake.
“Joanne,” Noah greeted as we walked up to her.
She looked up from her computer screen, smiling at him. Noticing me wiped away her friendliness.
“My project manager and I have a meeting with the Amage brothers at one o’clock.”
Her brows snapped together. “Your project manager?”
“Nice to meet you.” My steady tone didn’t betray annoyance. I held my hand out to her.
