Page 2 of The Romantic Agenda
Joy grins, chuckling at her brilliant pun. She isn’t above doing that. Everyone teases her for laughing at her own jokes, but it isn’t her fault they don’t appreciate her humor.
The most important thing is to calm Megan down. This mistake isn’t the end of the world. Or her job. Situations like this happen all the time on the backend because Malcolm prefers working with a smaller team he knows he can trust. When one of them is out, they band together and fill in the blank even when they’re not exactly sure what they’re doing.
Red Warren Nightclubs have a somewhat infamous reputation in the local industry for beingtheplaces to be and work. They meet every code and regulation, have enough staff, supervisors, and managers, and pay them well enough to avoid burnout. Everyone who works for them is the best of the best: dancers, DJs, bartenders, and security.
Red Warren the Office, however, runs with a skeleton crew in a modern office building. Megan handles all things human resources, Allie watches their money like a hawk in accounting, Nikkiee networks like a cult leader in talent and communications, and Johnny uses his keen senses in development and acquisitions. Joy fills the role of manager to an unholy amalgamation of office, operations, and finance, and at times, doubles as an executive assistant. And Malcolm is the CEO—the dreamer, the face, and the heart of the company.
Megan says, “Johnny was reviewing everything and spotted the discrepancy.”
“That must have gone well.”
“He was so mad, oh my god. I thought steam was going to start whistling out of his ears.”
Joy laughs, and Megan continues, “But it’s not just me, though. Malcolm missed it too. He wasthere. Hereviewedthe contract before I signed off on it.” Her gaze is practically a laserbeam of sincerity aimed right at Joy. “It seemed like he’d been doing better lately.”
Malcolm hasn’t really been the same since Caroline (the Cruel) called off their wedding a year ago. A Virgo through and through, Malcolm lives and dies by planning and micromanaging every detail he can get his hands on. He likes order and precision, needs structure and control.
Joy had seen Malcolm heartbroken before—he played fast and loose with his heart on a regular basis. He’s in love with love, always searching for The One, but that breakup broke him. Completely and utterly. Afterwards, he missed important meetings, left work early on the days he even bothered to show up at all, overlooked major and minor details that caused everyone headaches later. Mistakes like this contract were a dime a dozen. Red Warren survived by staying in red alert mode.
But in the past couple of months, glimpses of therealMalcolm began to break through. His focus and dedication to Red Warren returned. Missteps became less frequent, nearly disappearing. He seemed better, lighter, and happier for some reason.
Joy fidgets at her side. “He’s okay. He, um, I think he might be a little distracted right now.”
Everyone knew Malcolm and Joy had originally met in college. A classic story of boy sees girl first, girl meets boy but then has an immediate revelation about her sexuality and completely ignores boy for two weeks before randomly popping back up intohis life. They’ve been best friends, for better and for worse, in sickness but mostly in health, ever since. And she’s deeply in love with him.
But no one at Red Warren needs to know a single shred of truth about her feelings for Malcolm. None. Nada. Over her dead and cold body. Hers is the kind of workplace secret you take to the unemployment line after promising to keep in touch even though you know that won’t happen. Because you’ve had and left enough jobs to know better than to make false promises.
“I had a feeling.” Megan nods. “Do you know what’s up?”
“I don’t,” Joy lies. There are perks to moonlighting as an executive assistant. All signs point to Malcolm planning something big for the weekend. “Anyway”—she gestures to the contract—“this is fine. Everything is fine. Even if I have to go old school, pay them avisit, and remind them who they’re dealing with. I’ll take care of it.”
“Knock, knock.” Malcolm stands grinning in the doorway. Tall, dark, and ever handsome—in the literal sense. None of that thinly veiled colorist propaganda. Rich brown skin, black curly hair cut short, and deep chocolate eyes.
Joy unconsciously gives him a bright smile in return, just like she always does because she can’t help it. Her brain recognizes him and there’s an instant hit of dopamine to all the receptors that make her happiest.
He asks, “Joy, can I borrow you for a second?”
“Wow, I ampopularthis afternoon,” Joy jokes to quiet her sudden nerves before looking at Megan. “Consider it handled, okay?”
Back down the hall in her office, Joy sits at her desk. Unlike Megan, she hasn’t bothered with personal touches, preferring to keep her office sparse and clean. The cool grays and bursts of navyblue have a soothing effect on her. Something she relies on when she’s forced to hop on one too many phone calls and her daily avalanche of emails start pissing her off.
All six feet and two inches of Malcolm collapse into the chair in front of her desk with athud. The chair and his temperamental knees are probably swearing at him in a pitch only dogs can hear. “What are you doing this weekend?”
In case she was wrong about Malcolm’s intentions, Joy had made a backup plan to visit her sister, a quick ninety-minute flight away. “My usual. A little of this, a little of that.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m not?”
Malcolm’s grin escalates todevastating. A true weapon of mass destruction, it has an impact radius of twenty paces and a ninety-seven-percent fatality rate. He’s always wielded that perfect face of his like a formerly shy and gangly boy who just discovered the right side of puberty: completely earnest and unaware of how handsome he is.
Even after all this time, it still shocks Joy how much he can affect her. A quiet thrill ripples through her bloodstream, making her heart flutter.It’s happening, it’s happening, it’s happening.
Two weeks ago, Malcolm scheduled himself out of the office on Fridayandthe Tuesday after the holiday—the exact same days he asked her to clear on her schedule today. After that, Joy spotted several browser tabs open on his laptop with telltale keywords such as “hot-air balloon” and “vineyard,” and catering packages from her favorite restaurant. And most damning of all, Joy always helps him with his plans, for business and personal. This time, he hasn’t even mentioned a single thing about it to her.
Malcolm King-of-Grand-Romantic-Gestures Evans is aboutto make a comeback. And Joy has a sneaking suspicion it mightfinallybe for her.
“Nope.” He shakes his head. “Because you’re going on a trip with me.”
