Page 17 of A Ticking Time Boss

“You remembered?”

“Unless it was a lie,” she says. “You can’t keep track of them all.”

The reference to our earlier text conversation doesn’t make me smile. I don’t want to lose that. Being ridiculous with her, sending her texts designed to make her laugh…

“Wasn’t a lie,” I say. “And you’re twenty-six.”

“In four months’ time,” she adds. “But that’s not relevant for this interview.”

“Is my age?”

“Of course. I’m introducing Carter Kingsley, thirty-two-year-old partner of Acture Capital and newly appointed CEO of the Globe, to all of your employees. Very few of whom, I should say, have ever seen your face.”

“I haven’t called an all-hands meeting yet,” I admit, running a hand over my jaw. “But I will.”

Audrey purses her lips. They’re without lip gloss today, I see, a warm, dusky pink that looks natural and soft. “Will you be accessible to your employees?”

“Accessible?”

“If any should have questions, concerns or… complaints about the way the changes are being implemented. Where should they go?”

“Ah. Well, they’re always free to email me or Wesley, and we will do our best to answer their questions.”

Audrey looks down at her notepad again. Probably surveying what she has, but judging from the faint crease in her brow, she’s not happy. “What are the odds of me getting an actual response from you about any future plans? What you’re going to implement next?”

“Zero,” I say.

“Like I suspected.” She rises from her seat and smooths a hand over her slacks. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Kingsley.”

“Anytime, Audrey.”

She pauses, hand on the back of the chair. “Miss Ford.”

“Miss Ford,” I repeat.

“I will send the interview to you, with your assistant in copy, as soon as it’s done,” she says. Her eyes aren’t on me, but on the emblazoned name plate on my desk. Carter Kingsley, CEO, The New York Globe. Wesley had it made for me when I arrived. It had been an over-the-top gift from a suck-up, and I’d known it. Now I wish I hadn’t put it here on display. Somehow, it didn’t seem quite so ironic when she was looking at it.

“Thank you,” I say. “I’m sure I’ll be pleased with it.”

Audrey is halfway to the door before she turns around. Her eyes aren’t challenging this time. They’re hesitant.

“Yes?”

“This won’t affect my job in any way,” she says. “Will it?”

Something inside me sinks at the question. Of course she’d wonder. And with that, the most normal interaction I’d had with someone, the most casual, no strings-attached conversation, is gone for good. Nail in the coffin.

She might not expect the same things my exes did, but she sure expects something. It’s just not flattering.

“No,” I say. “It won’t. You never have to worry about that.”

She breathes out a sigh. “Right. Okay, well… thank you, then. Mr. Kingsley.”

“No, thank you… Miss Ford.”

Kid had been on the tip of my tongue. Not that it suits her, but because it harkens back to the first time I’d called her that in teasing. She’d hated it. I’d used it liberally in texting since.

Audrey gives me a last nod and closes the door behind her. Leaving me alone in the too-big, too-bright office. I reach for the gold plaque with my name on it and shove it in the bottom drawer of my desk.

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