Crush (Crash #3)(47)

From business to banter in two seconds' time. Anton was going to keep me guessing. "And I love a man who gets to the point," I said, "sometime today."

Getting back to his laptop, he started typing. "Here's the quick rundown on Xavier Industries' White Plains branch," he said, typing furiously. His fingers were almost a blur over that keyboard. "We're a customer-support call center here. We have twenty employees and triage close to eight hundred calls a day."

"A call center?" I was confused. "Xavier Industries is a board game development company, right?" I could have sworn that was what Indie said.

"That's right, but developing, distributing, and selling the board games is only half the battle. The other half is keeping those retailers and customers happy." His war with the keyboard came to an end. Punching one final key, he leaned back in his high-backed leather chair.

Thank the heavens I wasn't majoring in business, because this made no sense to me. "Happy? Isn't that the reason they're buying one of the games? So they'll be . . . happy?"

"Yes, happiness is definitely a desired side effect. However, humans as a species have this need to report or review or vent or share their opinion to someone who cares." He waved his hands before folding them over his desk. "That's what we're here for." 

"To care?"

Anton looked at me like my confusion was cute. "To pretend to care."

"Oh-kay," I said, shifting in my seat. I understood why so many politicians came from business backgrounds. They'd been bullshitting their way to the top for decades. "And my job is to pretend to care?"

"No, you won't be taking any of the customer calls. You're working for me." He leaned forward. "So your job is to enthusiastically care."

The more he said, the farther down the rabbit hole I fell.

"Can you define 'care' in basic job duties?" I asked. "Like sharpening pencils, making copies, that sort of thing?"

Sliding a drawer of his desk open, Anton dropped a thick folder in front of me. "For starters, I'd like you to go through these call sheets and make note of how long each call lasted, along with how many minutes the caller had to wait on hold before reaching an associate."

I gawked at the folder-it was larger than any college textbook I'd ever seen. "Is this supposed to take me all summer?"

That slow smile of Anton's slid back into place. "I'll give you until lunch."



I was earning my pay here at XI.

I'd been sure I'd been on the receiving end of a good deal, but I realized by lunchtime that it was Anton who'd been on the better receiving end.

I didn't know how I did it, or who'd slowed time down in order for me to get it done, but I was on my last sheet of that dictionary-size folder when Anton's door whooshed open.

"Lunchtime," he announced, sliding into his jacket that had just enough sheen to it for me to know it had cost a small fortune.

Glancing at the time on my computer, I felt my eyes bulge. It was almost one o'clock. "Oh, man. I'm sorry, Anton. I got so caught up in this project that I didn't even realize what time it was," I said, spinning in my chair to face him. "What do you normally get for lunch? I'll run out and grab it right now."

His eyebrows knitted together like he was insulted. "If India found out I'd reduced you, in any way, shape, or form, to a glorified coffee runner, she'd skin me and leave me in the woods for the bears."

I capped my pen and dropped it back into the holder. "And if you ever give me another project like that and expect me to finish it before the year is up, I might just do the same to you." I smiled sweetly.

"Have you talked to all your bosses like this?" he asked, leaning into my desk.

I raised an eyebrow. "Only the ones who deserved it."

Shaking his head, Anton motioned for the door. "Come on. Time for lunch."

"Huh?" Another brilliant gem from the mouth of Lucy Larson.

"Food. Sustenance. You. Me." He motioned to the door again. "Now."

Two things stopped me short from accepting Anton's invitation right then. The first being Jude. And the second being Jude. He was about as territorial as I was, and I knew I wouldn't have been okay with another woman taking him to lunch on a whim.

"I think I'll stay and finish this up," I lied. "I brought a snack with me."

"Enough with the protesting already. You've put up a good fight, but it's useless, because I always get what I want." Anton's eyes gleamed, while I felt my temper switch begging to be flipped. "Plus, it's a company tradition passed down from my dad. Rule number two in the business world: You always take an employee out to lunch on their first day. That's just good business."