Romantic Acquisition Page 0,8

It’s impressive.” He let his words sink in for a moment before continuing. “I also think you’re style of dress is a façade in a way,” he said.

Kate’s fingers shook as she lifted her glass of water to her mouth for a sip. “In what way?” she couldn’t help asking.

“You only want people to see one side of you. But I’m guessing there are multiple layers to your personality. Not all of them do you allow others to see.”

Kate couldn’t respond to that. She’d never thought about how she dressed as anything other than her own personal taste. But she knew if she’d considered it, he might be right, at least partially.

“I don’t think I’m that complicated,” she said, trying to smile but it came across as forced. “What you see is what you get.”

Carlo didn’t respond since their drinks arrived at that moment.

Kate quickly took a sip, eager to change the subject. “Oh my! This is delicious,” she exclaimed, liking the sweet, chocolate alcohol.

He changed the subject then, turning to business and started asking her questions about some of the processes she’d discussed with Jeff or Peter during the day.

Their meal arrived and Kate’s hunger came roaring to life with the smell of the pasta in front of her. “This looks delicious,” she said and dug into her food with relish.

“Why have you worked in so many of the departments?” Carlo asked after they’d tasted their meals.

Kate took a sip of her chocolate martini and smiled, appreciating the tart sweetness. “I started actually working here when I turned sixteen.”

“Were you working here before then?”

“Absolutely not. Phillip wouldn’t think of hiring me illegally even though we desperately needed the money. No, I was just always underfoot, I guess you could say. My mother started working for Phillip Jamison when I turned five years old. She would pick me up from school and bring me back to the store so she could finish whatever she was doing for Phillip. I would sit next to her and do my homework. Sometimes Phillip would even help me with my math homework. It was fun most of the time. But because I was always around, especially the president of the company, I heard everything that was going on in those days. He used to run his ideas by my mother for her feedback or he’d discuss issues with his other vice presidents as he was walking somewhere. I’d hear snippets of things that were going on or whole conversations. So I know more than I should, I guess.”

“What do you mean, ‘in those days’? And where was your father?”

Kate raised one shoulder, dismissing the past as unimportant now. “It’s just a different environment now that David is in charge.” She ignored his question about her father.

“How so?” Carlo asked.

Kate thought back to the years before David took over as the president. “It’s just a different world. David Jamison and his father are two completely different people. For instance,” she leaned forward, eager to relay the memory, “Phillip used to have one of those huge gumball machines in his office. It took up a whole corner of the room where my mom’s office was located. His staff would come in and get a gumball during the day, just to take a break. Once the gumball machine was empty, he’d have a meeting with all the people on the staff and they’d vote to see which charity would get the money. He’d then pay out of his own pocket to fill up the gumball machine again and the whole process would start over again.”

Carlo smiled with her at the memory. “And now? Who gets the gumball money? Or does David just decide for himself?”

Kate’s hands dismissed the idea. “Oh, that’s gone now.” The nostalgia in her eyes instantly disappeared and she took another bite of her pasta.

Carlo wouldn’t let the subject go although he could tell she wanted to drop the idea. He suspected that the gumball machine meant more to her than she was willing to admit. It represented more than just a previous president that she respected. The way she told the story, the gumball machine represented the difference between Phillip’s management style and David’s. “Where did it go?”

Without any expression on her face, she explained, “David Jamison had it stored somewhere. We have no idea where it went. It just disappeared one day and no one had the guts to ask him where he’d put it.”

“What did the staff say when it disappeared?”

“Well,

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