Don’t settle for a man who tells you he loves you. Choose one who shows you.
Selfie, an all-new forced proximity, age-gap, billionaire romance and the third standalone book in the Lessons in Love Series from bestselling author Kay Cove is now available!
Keep Reading for a look inside Selfie!
Well, I figured out the problem. Rest assured, you do have a job here, and Dawn is on her way down now to take you to the other Mr. Hatcher.”
“The other Mr. Hatcher?” I parrot back as if the words didn’t quite permeate.
“Mr. James Hatcher’s son, Nathan. James is the managing partner of Brickstone Ventures, which is a major property investment firm for a variety of industries. Nathan is in charge of commercial real estate investments, most of which are here in Vegas.”
“Oh, well, that’s fine. I’ll work for whoever. I’m just relieved I have a job.”
She grimaces as she shrugs. “That’s one way to look at it.”
I mean to ask for clarification because I don’t like the way she’s blinking at me, like I’m a mouse about to crawl into a cougar’s mouth, but the sound of stilettos hitting the marble floor pulls my attention from her. A beautiful, middle-aged woman with a bright red bob approaches me in a direct path, like a rook on a chessboard. Our outfits are almost matching. Her dress is navy, mine is black, but they have a similar style. Although, judging by the red soles of her heels, noticeable every time she takes a step, I’m convinced her business dress is designer, whereas mine is most definitely from Nordstrom Rack.
“You’re Spencer?” the woman asks as she nears me.
“Yes, ma’am.” I hold my hand out. “Nice to meet you."
“Dawn.” She shakes my hand firmly before releasing it. “Good grief, little girl. Who the hell did you piss off to end up with this job?”
My mouth falls open. “Excuse me?”
“Dawn,” the receptionist hisses. “Don’t scare her.”
Consider me scared.
“Chelsea, I’m not scaring her. I’m preparing her.” Dawn curls her fingers, beckoning me forward. “Come on. I’ll show you to your desk and see if I can run a little interference in case Nathan’s on the warpath.”
“Warpath?” I squawk.
The women ignore me, talking right through me. “He’s been extra edgy since James dropped the news about his engagement,” Dawn explains. “Speaking of which,” she tells Chelsea, “Julia will be here with a potential wedding planner at noon. If we’re still in the earnings meeting, please escort them right up to James’s office. Make sure she doesn’t run into Nathan.”
“Roger that,” Chelsea confirms. “God, what’re you going to do about the wedding? Nathan can’t avoid his new mother-in-law forever.”
Dawn covers her forehead, her middle finger and thumb pressed tightly against each temple. “If you value your job here, Chelsea, never use ‘Julia’ and ‘mother-in-law’ in the same sentence around Nathan.” Dawn’s bright green eyes snap toward me. “That goes for you too.”
They both stare at me expectantly. “Um, I’m still kind of hung up on ‘warpath,’ so if we could just go over that briefly because the way you two keep exchanging glances makes me feel like I just signed an employment contract to work for Darth Vader.”
Chelsea smiles. “Apt nickname for Nathan.”
“Stop helping,” Dawn bites out. “Come on, Spencer. You don’t want to be late on your first day. He doesn’t need any more ammo to hate you.”
Dammit, I got too comfortable. I had such a good morning, I should’ve known I was skipping and whistling straight into a shitstorm. Dawn’s already at the elevator bay, tapping the up arrow furiously. I’m midstride to obediently join her but Chelsea stops me.
“Spencer?”
“Yes?”
She smooths the top of her long, blond hair which is tied into a low ponytail. “Word of advice? Don’t take anything personally. When in doubt, it’s not about you."
I wet my lips. “Okay, that’s the most grim send-off anyone has ever given me, but…thank you?”
She laughs. “If you’re still here by one o’clock, I’ll be really impressed. Stop by the front desk. I’ll buy you lunch.”
The elevator dings before the heavy metal doors peel open. “Spencer,” Dawn calls out while snapping her fingers. “Come on, quick like a bunny."
I move toward the elevator with heavy steps. My high heels click off the marble tile but I’m treading so slowly, the floor may as well be wet concrete. I am that reluctant to meet my fate.
That’s the bar Chelsea set? Not thirty days, not even a week.
She’ll be impressed if I make it until lunch?
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