Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 61939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
You’re welcome, and do not get used to this…
Your favorite Sweet Seasons CEO,
Harrison Cross
Ihit send on the memo and looked over at Andrea as she lay sleeping under my silk gray sheets.
Tying my robe, I strolled to the kitchen to make breakfast. I was pouring two glasses of orange juice when my phone sounded with a call.
Aaron.
“Yes?” I answered.
“The storm’s only expected to last through Wednesday, but you’re giving everyone the entire week off?”
“Surely you’re not calling to question my decision-making.”
“No, actually.” His breathing was erratic. “That’s not why I’m calling at all. There’s something far more important than our ruthless CEO sharing his softer side.”
“Care to get to it so I can hang up?”
“Please tell me that these Page Six pictures aren’t real,” he said. “I just texted them to you.”
Worried, I pulled them up and saw that they were from yesterday, and they left very little to the imagination—every frame of me and Andrea kissing outside the building like we were seconds from fucking on the sidewalk.
She’s truly stunning from every angle…
“They’re real.” I smiled. “What’s the problem?”
“A notoriously private billionaire caught nearly having sex with his newly appointed CFO on the street?” he asked. “You don’t see an issue with that?”
“Not really.”
“Well, thank God you have me, then.”
“There’s nothing wrong with these images, Aaron.”
“Ten steps ahead of you,” he said. “I’ve already told them they were AI-generated. You’re welcome.”
“You know, I’m starting to think that a full week off might be good for you, too, Aaron.” I took out Andrea’s favorite bagels. “You sound wound up.”
“Invite me over and I’ll show you just how goddamn wound up I am.”
“Andrea and I aren’t into threesomes.”
“Please hang up the phone.”
“Will do.”
THIRTY-TWO (B)
HARRISON
Rumor Mill: Sweet Seasons Expected to Go Public, Questions Swirl about “Cross Effect”
Harrison Cross Announces City-Wide Search for “Executive Assistant,” Salary 500k
Here’s Why You Should NEVER Apply to Work Under Harrison Cross
THIRTY-THREE
ANDREA
“For the umpteenth time, I’m not available for interviews.” I groaned at the tenth reporter this morning. “We’re in the middle of a crucial stage.”
“So, Harrison Cross is failing and he won’t admit it?” the man pressed. “This would be the first time he took over a company and had to make it public, right?”
“I just said I’m not giving an interview.”
“Is the company going broke?” he persisted. “Were the finances off? There has to be a reason, so just huff twice for yes and once for no.”
I hung up and unplugged my phone from the wall.
Somewhere between returning from Hawaii and finally working as “just” the CFO, my life had become a collage of dodging nosy reporters and restructuring the entire finance department.
A part of me was starting to miss being Harrison’s assistant.
Well, a part I would never admit to and forever deny.
As I highlighted the top ten tasks for the day, a flutter of emails landed at the top of my inbox.
Subject: New! Personal Request for 4
Subject: New! Personal Request for 7:30
Subject: New! Personal Request for 3:45
All three from Harrison.
Welp.
So much for missing the life of being his assistant.
Standing up from my desk, I walked across the hall to his office.
Knocking, I waited until I heard his familiar “This better be important.”
“Miss Stone.” He smiled as I walked in and shut the door behind me. “To what do I owe this surprise visit?”
“You said you would stop treating me like your assistant,” I said. “You promised.”
“I have.” He leaned back in his chair. “Haven’t I?”
“No.”
“How so?”
“You’re still sending me scheduling reminders,” I said. “You’re hiding petty requests and disguising them as meetings.”
“I can assure you there are no petty requests in my latest emails.” He smirked. “You probably should’ve opened them before coming here.”
“I plan on deleting them,” I said. “On another note, there’s a rumor going around that you’re about to make Saturdays off days. Is that true?”
“What do you think?”
“Answer it.”
“Maybe.” He motioned for me to come closer to his desk. “Back to the topic at hand, how would you like me to send my future requests?”
“I want you to hold off on sending any of them,” I said. “Like, do I need to map out the words I’m saying to make them clearer?”
“Not at all.” His smile widened. “But you can tell me a better way of saying ‘I need to fuck you’ or ‘Come and let me eat your pussy’ via company email, because… that’s all those personal alerts mean.”
“Oh…”
“Since you’re here early.” He pushed aside a stack of papers. “Get up here and lean back for me.”
THIRTY-FOUR
HARRISON
The hours required to get Sweet Seasons ready to go public were brutal and unforgiving, and everyone—even me—could feel the stress pulsating through the building.
After watching ten different interns pass out at their desks, I did something I’d sworn I never would.
I gave everyone full weekends off.
No more mandatory Saturdays.
Just for now…
In the midst of the chaos, Andrea and I carved out our own escape. We found each other whenever we could—wherever we could.