Page 15 of Reckless Deal

“Just what’s readily available. I want to know who I work for.” I smile at him, but it’s like trying to break a diamond. He repels any kind gestures.

He observes me, frowning. “Have you read the briefs from Marnie?”

Let’s work, I guess. I let out a long breath and take a seat across from him.

“Yes, I have reviewed all the plans and I emailed the team on the ground with questions. I think for the most part, the events are well covered. I have a few suggestions to improve the flow of people, and I think we should set up a VIP area at the two larger events…” I continue rattling off my suggestions without looking at him.

In my element, the nerves slowly melt away and I relax into the chair. When I finish, with some level of satisfaction, I look at Gio and jump to my feet.

Without realizing, as I spoke, consulting the notes on my phone, I leaned into the chair and brought my knee to my chin. I’m wearing a dress with a flowy skirt, and I’m pretty sure I just flashed my boss.

Seriously, can I ever recover my dignity around this man?

If it wasn’t Gio Cassinetti, I would have sworn there was mild amusement tugging at his lips.

“You seem to have things under control.” He leans back in his chair. “So, you think the team on the ground is reliable?”

I fidget with my phone, my eyes darting around, the train of thoughts derailed. I’m grateful he’s not addressing my comfy posture, but that doesn’t mean I forgot about it.

“Sit down and talk.” He growls, impatience lacing his tone. “And keep your legs under the table this time.”

I collapse into the chair and move it as deep under the table as possible. I find the notes on my phone.

“I can’t answer your question. I don’t know anyone on the ground. Based on their responses to my inquires, they seem prepared. Whether they’re competent or if they’re sold on the re-branding is something I can’t assess from my position, or in the two days I’ve been here.”

“Yet you seem to have grasped way more than expected in two short days.” He leans forward on his elbows.

Sometime during my speech, he rolled up his sleeves. Jesus, now I understand arm porn might not be a myth.

Wait a minute… did he just praise me? I blink a few times because the combination of his sinewy forearms—how do you even exercise those muscles?—and his cold but definite comment bring on yet another wave of fluster.

“Thank you.” I smile and he nods. “I spoke with the manager of the San Francisco location, and I got a feeling—just a feeling—the employees might feel this is too much money spent for no apparent reason. I feel the re-branding should start internally, so people understand and buy into the new direction. Culture is a part of branding, and I think the change has happened on the corporate level but hasn’t reached the ground.”

Jesus, did I just criticize the project and potentially rat out the employees?

“Okay, let’s leave on Sunday instead of Monday and schedule internal meetings prior to each event, so we can get them on board, at least somewhat. Let’s talk to the team here to prepare a presentation for me, and to brainstorm the benefits of this change for the employees.”

He’s delivering the task list with the collected precision of a surgeon. His coldness feathers across my skin despite the distance between us. Each word is like an icy shower, so I smile more broadly, seeking any semblance of warmth.

Is he just being efficient? Is he mad at me? Annoyed by my judgment? He prompted the question. Why do I feel so freaking insecure around him?

“I’m sorry if I overstepped. I’ve been on this for too short a time to make such an assessment.”You keep saying sorry. Brian’s words echo in my head. A screw-up.

Gio looks up from his tablet and studies me for what feels like a year. I’ll drown in that whirlpool of his gaze. I have no chance against this man. He looks like he is sick, or disgusted. I straighten up, internally berating myself for my cowardice.

He shakes his head like a wet dog, discarding something annoying. “Well, you made the assessment anyway.” He shrugs and stands up. “Let’s take a ten-minute break. I’ll call my assistant to coordinate things in the office, and then you can present the media plan.” He stands up and leaves.

I’m lingering between elation from a productive meeting and a bitter aftertaste from his attitude. He’s efficient, and not shy about giving credit when it’s due, but he still is the coldest, most aloof person I’ve ever met.

I stand up to stretch my legs and walk around the room. I peek through the double door he left open, but I don’t hear him. The long hallway stretches in both directions. I guess it’s not that long, but being used to shoe box-sized apartments, it looks like a highway.

There are two console tables on each side of the wall, with beautiful, large flower arrangements. Who takes care of them?

This home is warm, unlike its owner. I walk around the room where we’ve spent the morning. The open space—larger than my apartment—doubles as a dining, living and sitting room, with an impressive library lining the three walls and floor-to-ceiling windows.

I tiptoe—not sure why—to the shelf with photo frames. One is a family picture with many teenagers. Four girls and four boys, one of them Gio, are frowning at the camera.

Annie and I used to hate having our pictures taken at that age. I guess it doesn’t matter how much money you have growing up, some life phases are universal.

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