Page 46 of Mistlefoe
“Yes, likewise!” My voice sounds so shrill that half of my coworkers turn to look. I duck my face and lower my tone. “Well, I’ll email you the contract in a minute and once you return it, we’ll be all set.”
“Fantastic. Thank you so much for the opportunity. This is gonna be bomb.”
Being bomb, bueno. Bombing, no bueno. There’s no room for error here.
After some more pleasantries, we hang up and I take a moment to gather myself. It’s like dinner last night with Conor and his grandfather has unlocked something in me. I already knew I was attracted to the man because I’m not in the business of lying to myself, but now it’s something else. I can’t stop looking at him. Purposely keeping myself at a decent distance feels like nails on chalkboard. I want to spend more time with him—but without the prying eyes around us.
Sighing, I take out my earpieces just as a notification pops up on my screen. Fifteen minutes for our meeting with Camila Puig, Rachel’s mentor.
I look up and find Conor’s attention already on me. “Ready?” he asks.
Nope. I’m not ready for all of this. It’s not like I planned on being single forever or anything, but my priority has been work, work, and more work. Dating won’t make me money or help my family—that’s all on me.
But that was easy to say when I didn’t have anyone in my sights. Conor has been sitting in front of me for two years and I didn’tseehim. I pretended like he wasn’t even there. I think Rachel was right that it wasn’t simply that I disliked him because I was professionally jealous of him. I was afraid of him. That this could happen. That I’d develop a crush on him.
Well, it’s happening, all right.
“Sure,” I answer with an airy voice and grab my coat from the backrest of my chair.
“Say hi to Cam for me,” Rachel says without pausing a beat from typing an email.
“Cam?” I ask.
“That’s how people close to her call her.”
Everything in Conor’s expression screamsno way. I doubt Camila Ice Queen Puig has anyone that would fall under that definition too.
“Right…” I elongate the word with a healthy dose of skepticism.
Clear across the office, Richard stops minding the copy machine to say, “Good luck, guys. Don’t let her intimidate you.”
“Ha ha.” Conor stuffs his hands in the pockets of his joggers and murmurs, “Easy for him to say.”
“Remember,” Kaylee says in a teasing tone. “Showing any weakness to predators is a sure-fire way to die.”
Clearly, we shouldn’t have asked Richard for help in getting an audience with Camila during the staff meeting earlier. But Conor and I have been trying with her assistant for one week and it just wasn’t happening, yet our timeline keeps getting tighter and we really need the gifts that go in the ball pit. Logically, the next step was securing some goods fresh from the factory, for which we need Camila’s help. She’s the lead factory manager, after all.
Conor and I drag our feet toward the elevator. He presses the button and as we wait, says, “We need a game plan.”
“I’m open to suggestions.”
“A keyword for when we should just quit and run.”
I snort. “Maybe I’ll just trip you and escape on my own.”
“That’s fine. At least one of us should live to tell the tale.”
The elevator dings and we step in. I reach over to press the ground floor button, but again he’s faster and beats me to the punch.
“No, but seriously. How the hell are we going to succeed bypassing the purchasing process with Camila Puig?” he asks and I watch with such hyperfocus that it almost feels like he’s moving in slow motion as he lifts a big hand of his, and combshis fingers through his silky soft hair. The skin between my fingers itches.
“Well, we just don’t have time to put a normal internal order. It should be fine if we just buy a crate with the company credit card. The question is whether she’ll even agree.”
“It’s Christmas, the season of giving, of being jolly—surely we can appeal to that?”
Slowly, I give him a side eye. “Does she seem the most festive person to you?”
Last year, Camila didn’t go to Aspen with the rest of the company. Apparently, she worked the entire holidays through. The year before, she also didn’t attend the annual bash although for a different reason. She was going to get married and then it didn’t happen. Gossip ran rampant for weeks but noSPORTYemployees had been invited anyway, so no one really had any idea why she didn’t get hitched. I remember that the year before she did go—it was at a fancy hotel in downtown Boston and she dressed to the nines. Hollywood starlets would never. But she spent the whole night arguing with suppliers over the phone. I got too drunk for my first one, so I don’t even know if she was there or not.
