Ruthless In A Suit(51)

“Okay,” she’d said. “When?”

I looked at the work on my desk—still so much to do. “Let me get through this crisis and then I’ll take a look at my schedule. I’ll call you.”

Once we’d hung up it took me a few minutes to get my head back into the work before me. Hearing her soft bed voice and picturing her laid out in sheets wearing whatever my imagination stirred up made me want to stick my hand down my pants and take care of my urges. But I didn’t. I moved around the office, turned on some music and effectively got back to work. But it wasn’t easy.

Now I’m back in my office with two hundred new emails that need my immediate attention, plus another meeting in five minutes. But instead of dealing with any of that I look at the new text from Emily, which picks up on the random conversation we’ve been having.

The fact that you’ve never been to a water park says you were surely neglected as a child.

I smile. I got plenty of attention as a kid. At boarding school.

I wait for her text to come back. When I see the little bubble on my phone that says she’s writing me right now, I just sit and stare at it, waiting.

She’s got me pretty bad.

That’s so sad! her text reads. She includes an emoji smiley face. Only Emily can get away with that. If it were anyone else, I’d end things right there. Sent off to school and no water park. Too bad you weren’t sent off to water park school. That would’ve been cool.

We started this conversation when Emily texted that although she loves fall in Boston she was sad she’d let summer come and go without so much as touching the water—no beach, no pool, and no water park. I didn’t even know what a water park was, for which she teased me mercilessly.

Instead I wasted my time at business school. What was I thinking?

Hey, I’m not far from you, she writes. Want to meet for coffee?

Yes, yes, I want to write. Screw everything else, I want to run to see her. But instead I write, Wish but I can’t. Another meeting soon.

Ditch!

I’m running the meeting. I think they’d notice if I was missing.

What’s the point of being the boss if you can’t do what you want?

If she only knew that being the boss meant I have so much more responsibility and have to work harder than everyone else. I may not have always agreed with my father but the lessons he taught me about work and leadership have really paid off. My staff respects me, even if they don’t always like me.

I hate thinking of you sitting alone in a café drinking your coffee, I write.

Meh, I think I’ll just go home and study. If your meeting gets out early you know where I live…

“Mr. Jackson? Are you ready?”

“Yes, Sandra,” I say, smiling as I close the screen on my phone. God, there’s nothing I’d rather do right now than go see Emily. Burrowing down in bed with her as the rain falls outside sounds like perfection. But it’s true—being the boss means I have be at all these meetings, making the decisions that will ensure the company’s growth.

As Sandra and I walk down the hall for the next meeting, I have an idea.

“Sandra, could you do me a favor?” I give her the details and she assures me that she’ll take care of everything.

Another one of the perks of being the boss: lots of people around me who can make great things happen.

I stepped away from things with Genevieve, not that there was really anything to step away from. One dinner and a few texts was all. After Emily spent the night I cancelled our plans to attend the ballet and told her things were too intense at work for much outside enjoyment. Genevieve understood what I meant. She’s probably already on to the next blue blood, looking for a husband and sperm donor to fill up the family home in Louisburg Square.

I make my way through the day’s meetings, filled with PowerPoint presentations, graphs, video call-ins, projections and baselines, one debate over a commodity report that almost turned ugly, and more coffee than I can count.

It’s almost seven when I go back to my office. Sandra is still there at her desk.

“What are you still doing here?” I ask her.

“I wanted to let you know it’s all set. Just let them know what evening and they’ll arrange for it.”

Having money certainly has its perks. Emily isn’t going to believe what I have planned for us.



“Damn…” is all I can say Saturday night when Emily steps out of the car I sent to pick her up at her place. I’d planned to get her myself, but yet another work emergency popped up and I spent my day ripping incompetent staff who are too lazy to do a job right the first time.

But Emily…Emily looks stunning. I walk toward her, my body already eager to be up against her in a slim-fitting dress with spaghetti-type straps and heels that could pierce my heart. She wears a black pashmina to keep her warm.