Page 64 of Assistant to the Billionaire CEO

Knock, knock!

“Come in,” I exclaimed.

“It’s just me, dear! Mrs. Mills,” she chimed, sticking her head into the room. Her big bun bobbed around like an angry hedgehog, emphasizing every single word. “Sorry to bother. I just wanted to ask how you’re feeling about the meeting this evening?” She shook her head and the hedgehog wiggled. “I remember how nervous I was before the first big client meeting I attended with Mr. Windsor. Sweet Lord. A nervous wreck, that’s what I was. What time is it starting this evening? Half past six?”

“Half past six,” I confirmed, and looked up from the stack of paper I was examining. “Have you got any advice for me?”

“Sure! Drinklotsof coffee, but not too much either, if you know what I mean. Trust me. You’ll need it to stay sharp. Mr. Garfield is a difficult client, and it won’t be easy to win him over, even though Mr. Windsor is an excellent strategist. I’m sorry I have to throw you into one solo so soon, but my granddaughter is performing in her dance theater’s rendition ofSleeping Beautythis evening, and I promised her I wouldn’t miss it. Family means everything to me.”

“That’s okay, Mrs. Mills. I understand, and I’m sure I’ll be fine, even though I’m pretty nervous,” I clarified, “but I’m prepared.”

“Of course you are.” She smiled encouragingly. “The meeting is on the 7th floor at the end of the hallway in the executive boardroom. Be up there ten minutes before everybody else to prepare the coffee. Mr. Windsor likes his coffee black. But I’m sure you know that by now.”

“I do, thank you, Mrs. Mills.”

“You’re a superstar, and you’re going to do an amazing job. Don’t let the vultures intimidate you. Good luck! If you need anything, I’m here until six. Tudelidooo!” With that, she closed the door behind her and popped out of view.

* * *

Despite my trepidation, I was excited to attend an important meeting at Ace’s side. Gah. I knew I needed to stop myself from getting riled up at the thought of spending time with him, but I couldn’t muster up enough self-control to do it.

After I quickly returned a couple of folders to the filing cabinets next to my desk, I grabbed an empty notepad and two pens from my desk. I slung my handbag over my shoulder, mentally preparing myself for the trip down to the 7th floor where the Garfieldmeeting would be taking place.

The walk to the conference room was somewhat nerve-racking. I knew what I needed to do during the meeting and what was expected of me, but I couldn’t help but start feeling a little out of my depth. My heart beat faster and faster as I drew nearer. While power walking, I pulled out my little folding mirror to examine my appearance. I reapplied my red lipstick and took a bobby pin from my handbag to tame a curl that had escaped from my neat ponytail. My winged eyeliner was miraculously just as symmetrical and un-smudged as it had been when I’d applied it this morning. I took the staircase instead of the elevator and met a short mousy man in a brown suit strolling down.

“G’day,” he greeted me.

“Good evening,” I replied, before quickly proceeding.

The 7th floor’s foyer was just as immaculately decorated as all the other floors I’d seen so far. This one was especially impressive. A large copper globe the size of a child stood in the center, refracting light in every direction. Pulling myself away from the room’s furnishings, I headed down the hallway on my right. I’d never seen the executive boardroom before, and I was curious what would set it apart from the conference room Ace and I had sat in during my first day.

The hallway in front of me was empty, so I increased my pace to a brisk walk. I lifted my left arm and read the time on my wristwatch: 6:25 p.m.

“Executive Boardroom,” a silver plaque on the door at the end of the hallway read.

Stepping inside, I found it empty except for its furnishings. Neither Ace nor the clients were there yet. Good. A large wooden table stood in the center of the room. Twenty-six chairs were tucked neatly around it: eight on each side, and five at each end. The walls were painted a pretty shade of creamy white. Architectural photographs and awards lined them. One end of the room was dedicated to a projector and a projection screen, while the other was occupied by a coffee table. I hurried over to it and hastily prepared piping-hot coffee. The cups were placed on the table in no time, ready for Ace and the clients to arrive.

I decided to make myself comfortable, and chose one of the middle chairs on one side of the large table to sit down on. I put down my notepad and pens in front of me, prodding at them until I was completely satisfied that they were entirely straight and parallel to each other. An ornate clock with a black rim hung above the projection screen. Its loud ticking was the only sound that reverberated through the room.

There were voices. Someone twisted the doorknob. I whipped my head around, pulling my gaze from the clock’s glistening face.

“This way, please.” Ace’s voice echoed from the other side. He opened the door completely and confidently strolled in. He was followed by a group of four men, each wearing a fitted suit in a different hue of navy. Ace was in all black: black suit, black shirt, black tie. “This is the executive boardroom. It’s still a work in progress. As I’m sure you know, our offices recently relocated back to New York.” He strode toward me, grinning boyishly. “And this is Ms. Copeland. She’ll be assisting me.”

I smiled at the four businessmen. “Hello, gentlemen.” I extended my arm toward each of them to shake their hands. My legs felt wobbly beneath me.

With that, they walked around and sat on the other side of the table, removed their laptops and notepads from their briefcases, and set them out in front of them. Ace sat down next to me.

As soon as the businessmen settled down, it was as if a switch flipped in Ace, and he went into “meeting mode.” He was always assertive, a born leader, but now he became almost inhumanly charismatic. He continued to sell Mr. Garfield—and the others seated in front of us—a whole host of services, answering their questions with the kind of self-assuredness I could only dream of having.

“Look, I like you, Mr. Windsor,” Mr. Garfield, the evident leader of the pack of men said. “You seem like a good man. I like your no-bullshit approach.” He paused and leaned back, swiveling his gaze between the men sitting on either side of him. They exchanged brief nods, and Mr. Garfield looked back at Ace. “Let me make this quick. We’re looking forward to a bright future with Windsor Architects.”

“I agree,” one of the other men said as we all shook hands and sat back down. “It’s an honor and a pleasure to work with a businessman as acclaimed and successful as you are.”

“You won’t be sorry,” Ace replied, leaning over the table as if he were preparing to share a secret. “Look, I don’t usually do this, but I have a development in Hudson Yards in the wings. I haven’t offered anyone a buy-in on it yet, but if you’re interested, I’d be happy to involve you. We’re expecting to make upward of $12 million on it.” He turned to face me. “Stella, anything else interesting out there?”

“What about the development in Noho?” I chirped, confident of my skills. “Buying in on Hudson Yards and Noho together makes sense. It’s the same market that’s driving demand for housing in both areas.”

“My assistant makes a good point,” Ace said, nodding at me. “You don’t want to miss out on Noho either.”

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