Page 12 of Texting the CEO's Obsession
“You were selected to take lead on analytics for the new app and the Fourneaux files,” she drawls. “I passed on them, obviously. You newbies need to learn how to handle bigger clients so I don’t have to deal with them all on my own.”
I clench my jaw to stop myself from calling out her obvious lie as she checks her nails in a show of faux carelessness. She’s so pissed I can damn near taste it.
“You’rewelcome,” she hisses, sneering down her nose at me, red lips curled up in annoyance.
“Thank you,” I respond on instinct. “I won’t let you down.”
She waves me off with a roll of her eyes. “Whatever.” The stack of papers she had tucked under one arm is tossed closer to my face than my desk. I jerk back to avoid getting a paper cut on my cheek. “Oops. Sorry, my hand slipped.”
I force a smile and gather the papers up from my lap, tidying them into a neat stack. “No problem,” I grit out.
“You need to go get those signed by Nick, he doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” she says archly, offering a put-upon sigh when I blink up at her. “Right, you don’t have clearance to the upper floors. God, I have to do everything around here.”
I’m tempted to ask her if Mr. D’Amico knows she calls him Nick, but I keep the words safely trapped in my mind instead of spitting them at her.
“I can go on my own, I usually just?—”
“Why are you still sitting?” she snaps, cutting me off. “Time is money, and you’ll learn that Nick doesn’t like to waste either. Let’sgo.”
I push up from my chair and gather the files before hurrying off after her, keeping my bland, professional smile in place by sheer force of will. How does she think I get up to the top floor when she sends me to run her ridiculous little errands? Is she really so self-absorbed that she doesn’t realize I’ve been finding ways around the fact that I haven’t had clearance for the entire time I’ve worked here?
God, wait till Taylor hears about this shit.
We stand in silence once we step onto the elevator, Sloane presenting her badge to the scanner and pressing the button for the top floor.
The only sound is the smacking of Sloane’s cinnamon gum and the occasional burst of noise from her phone as she scrolls through her socials. It doesn’t take long to reach the top floor since Sloane’s badge allows her express access to whatever floor she requests. I take a deep breath of fresh air as soon as we exit, glad to put some space between me and the thick cloud of cloying perfume that hangs in the air around her.
She tosses her gum in the trash before starting down the hallway, making no move to hide the way she adjusts the neckline of her bright red top to show way more cleavage than is appropriate for the office.
A single withering glance gets thrown my way as we make our way to Nick’s office, but she doesn’t say anything to me.
Sloane pushes the door to his office open without so much as knocking, stepping in with a wide smirk and leaving me to stumble in behind her, uncomfortable at the thought of just waltzing right in. Nick’s head snaps up instantly, a stormy glare creasing his handsome features.
“I will not tell you again that you are toknockbefore entering my office, Sloane.” His voice is whip-sharp and cold with disapproval. Some of Sloane’s cockiness drains away instantly. “Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” she says, simpering and sweet. “I apologize, Mr. D’Amico.”
Mr. D’Amico, huh? What happened toNick?
At least I’m smart enough to only refer to him like that in my head.
Nick huffs an annoyed breath out through his nose, scrawling a signature at the bottom of one of the papers spread out across his desk. He glances at the folders I place in the tray marked for non-urgent signatures and revisions before turning his attention entirely to me.
I feel like a deer in the headlights, caught in the trap of those steel-grey eyes and the appraising tilt of his head. His suit is a deep navy, complementing his olive complexion and making the dark fall of his hair stand out.
He looks like he should be on the cover of GQ, not behind a desk.
“Riley,” he says, drawing my name out in a way that makes me want to shiver. “Good to see you. I was impressed by the most recent reports you submitted. I’ve already passed along your insight to Marketing and Planning, but I’m pulling you away from your current workload. I want you focusing on analytics for the Fourneaux file and projections for the investment app we just launched. You’ll be working directly under my supervision on those.”
I swallow back my nerves and steel my spine, nodding sharply. “Yes, sir. Thank you for the opportunity. I won’t let you down.”
Nick’s lips twitch at the corners of his mouth like he wants to grin at my enthusiasm, but he schools his face back to neutrality before he speaks. He glances over to Sloane, who’s wandering around and looking over his shelves like she belongs here, his jaw ticking in annoyance.
“Don’t thank me until you prove yourself,” he warns me. “You’ll need to schedule a time to meet with me every Friday before theend of the day to give me updates. I’ll also be adding you into the biweekly team meetings for both projects so you can be involved in brainstorming and planning sessions with them.”
My smile stretches a bit past the limits of professionalism as a thrill shoots down my spine. This is the perfect stepping stone to exactly the kind of work I’ve wanted to do since I started school. If I prove myself here, I’ll be able to be involved in projects from conception to execution.
I’ll be able to personally ensure the success of the things I work on.
