“Cancel the six o’clock, cancel lunch with my mother, forward me the candidates’ resumes, and call my uncle Antonio and inform him he’s moving into Sagewood House for the next two weeks. Also, tell anyone you’re talking to Antonio, and I’ll have you fired.”
She bites the end of her stylus and studies me for a long moment before dropping it back to her tablet and casually brushing her long hair back, pushing her breasts up as she does so. She’s technically not my executive assistant, but that won’t stop me from issuing orders. “Of course, Mr. Rutherford. And your coffee?”
“I don’t know. Call my girlfriend and ask her.”
“Her phone number, Mr. Rutherford?”
I blink.
I don’t have Begonia’s phone number.
How the fuck do I not have Begonia’s phone number?
I didn’t need it on the island, but I should’ve thought—and I didn’t—and fuck.
Robert, the second-in-command on my personal detail, visibly fights a smile as the car pulls away. “Got it right here for you, Ms. Therese.”
“Thank you, Robert.”
I don’t speak to either of them the rest of the ride, instead burying myself in email on my work cell phone, nor do I acknowledge when my personal cell phone vibrates with an incoming contact card from Robert.
Good man.
He’ll be finding a new bottle of his favorite brandy sitting on his doorstep this evening.
Since my parents persuaded me to come work for Razzle Dazzle on the financial side of the business a few years after I finished my master’s degree, I’ve split my time between the New York and California offices, so walking into headquarters today should be nothing new.
But it’s the first time I’ve walked in since my cousin Thomas passed unexpectedly, leaving the chief financial officer position vacant and me as the supposed best man for the job. Last week was spent communicating with the technical team, getting all the correct files unlocked and access granted, digging into active and upcoming issues, and having virtual meetings with various officers inside the company to get up to speed. Being back in the office now is the first time I’ve had to bother with things like personal assistants, a schedule full of meetings with officers and executives, and sitting in a chair once occupied by a relative I wish I’d spent more time with.
We rarely saw each other outside the office, and with my former role as associate vice president of financial affairs for parks, real estate, and development keeping me nearly as busy as the CFO position kept him, we rarely saw each other inside the office either.
It was a rare relationship that required little talking and less drama. While Keisha will forever be my favorite relative, I’ve realized I didn’t know what I had with Thomas until he was gone.
Also not helping?
Thomas’s executive assistant is out on maternity leave and won’t be returning. The one modicum of peace I’ve clung to after his death is knowing that he was able to see his daughter before the accident that claimed his life.
While my family won’t publicly claim Mirabella or her mother as Rutherfords, they’ll both be well cared for. And lest you think we’re heartless bastards who put our reputations above all else, the decision is as much Thomas’s secret girlfriend’s as it is ours.
She doesn’t want to raise her daughter in the limelight that comes with being part of my family.
God knows I understand that to my core.
But it means that I need a new executive assistant, and when I leave my office at quarter to two, there’s a wall of women crammed into my foyer who immediately leap to their feet.
There’s a damn wave going on in my office as if we’re at a baseball game.
I look at Therese. “Did you schedule the interviews simultaneously?”
She lowers her cat’s-eye glasses and smiles at me. “Of course not, Mr. Rutherford. But we did stress to all of the applicants that timeliness is important.”
I look at the wall of women again, and I turn and retreat into my office.
I don’t want to pick an assistant.
I want—
Fuck. I want to not be here.
I’m dialing Begonia’s number before I can think twice.
“Hello?”
“Begonia. I need—”
“Hayes! Hi, sweetie. Did you know downtown Albany has a performing arts center called The Egg? It’s amazing. And Nikolay said the right thing to the right person and we got this unbelievable behind-the-scenes tour that—”
“You know people,” I interrupt.