Page 69 of Savage Suit
“Yes.”
He walked out.
Not wasting time, I stuffed the money in my purse, grabbed my cell phone and hurried into the hallway, locking the door to my office.
Noah’s texting halted the question I had for him. The moment he shoved his cell phone in his pocket, I asked, “Are you okay?”
He started off. “Never better.” He didn’t speak again until we entered the main hallway, and he pointed left, though we turned right, toward his office. “A small lounge is there. You can’t miss it. ‘Breakroom’ is inscribed on the door’s window.”
Mrs. Mikes sat at her desk, focused on the computer screen, the warm décor inspiring ideas for my office.
“Rosa, Ryan Hagen is my new project manager for Amage.”
A tight smile and curt nod were the only sign she’d heard. “Ms. Hagen.” Her politeness bordered on chilly.
I deigned a nod. “Mrs. Mikes,” I returned, just as cool.
So far, only Reid and Noah showed me a modicum of civility. Mrs. Mikes had a lot of fucking nerve, considering she’d aided Noah’s bullshit at my first interview.
“Buzz Mrs. Mikes anytime. She will aid you until you get a secretary of your own.”
Fuck, I’d have better results summoning the fucking Sea Witch. Pushing aside the thought, I zeroed in on a more exciting prospect. “I’m getting my own secretary?”
“Yes. If your contract is extended.”
I did a mental fist pump.
“Restrooms are right down there.” Noah pointed toward his office. “Take a right, and you’ll see them.”
He turned to the elevator and pressed a button.
The doors opened, and like a perfect gentleman, he allowed me to enter first, positioning himself beside me.
He smelled fucking amazing. Once again, I noted how his cologne was vaguely recognizable, but each attempt to identify the brand drew a blank.
Various spices and the hint of cinnamon reminded me of Armani’s home-baked goods. Of all things. But it had been weeks since I’d babysat for her, and I missed her.
“Floor two,” the robotic monotone announced as the elevator halted and the doors opened.
We stepped out and Noah guided me around. Aside from pointing out restrooms and the offices of his three closest associates on this floor, there wasn’t much to show. The offices of Keegan Media Group were on the fourth floor, but the second floor held the accounting department, which was good to know.
He moved with purpose to a large archway. Just beyond was an opened eating space with a windowed, ultramodern kitchen in the middle. Vending machines and trashcans against the wall led to the manned cash register. Several electronic screens displaying menu items hung on walls near the kitchen, with tables throughout the rest of the area. A lengthy line of people waited to be served. They cast curious glances our way. Several floor-to-ceiling windows allowed natural lighting to stream in and diners to see the constant hustle and bustle of the city. It made the colossal space seem even bigger.
His gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary. “This cafeteria runs from 7 a.m. to 6 p.m. Have you eaten today?”
In my rush to look extra presentable and arrive on time, my breakfast comprised coffee and nothing more. Not even my usual toast.
“Would you like to eat—” His ringing phone cut him off. Sighing, he removed it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. His face darkened as he read the name. Answering, he walked away, his body tensing as he chatted to whoever was on the other line.
“What?” Noah growled.
My eyebrows raised in surprise at his anger.
“Don’t you fucking dare!” His yell drew more attention.
Awareness of his surroundings dawned on him because he quieted down, storming out of the cafeteria. He paced in the hallway, his toned-down conversation not allowing me to hear and sate my confusion.
“An urgent matter has come up,” he said once returned to my side. “Grab a bite to eat before returning to floor twelve. I’ll call Megan to let her know an emergency has come up and you’re available to prep for the press conference.”
