Mr. Mitchell Billionaires' Club Book 2 - Raylin Marks Page 0,101

was no different from before because my department heads in public relations, planning, and marketing were not answering their fucking phones.

“Why is Hearken not in attendance?” I asked one of the marketing representatives assigned to this event.

“They backed out last minute,” she said timidly. “I can’t get a hold of anyone else to help me figure out what’s going on, Mr. Mitchell. It’s the only reason I called you, I’m so—”

“Text me your contact info on Hearken, and I’ll deal with them personally,” I said, cutting her off. I didn’t have time for excuses or apologies. “We have thirty-two rooms booked for this group. I’m not playing any more games with these people,” I said.

Fucking hell, I thought after hanging up, checking Jen’s text for the number, and calling out. I swear to God that I was about to lose my shit in this room. Where the fuck were my department heads and my marketing teams that’d handled this before it went sideways? It was one thing to manage my business for all of this, but an entirely different thing to do the jobs of the employees that were hired to handle these issues.

We were on a time crunch, and I had no time to play games and start chewing asses out. It was time to cut the middlemen out and handle things myself.

My frustration eased some when I heard Avery giggling on the other side of the double doors of our suite. Joe and Clay were contagiously laughing along with her—surrounded by the parade of gowns and accessories they brought in—and I heard Ash stop in for a few minutes too. I wanted to be out there with them, and I could have been if my employees were on deck, doing their fucking jobs.

I refocused and sat at the desk, handling this particular medical group that tried to bail out of the conference. It only took twenty minutes on the phone and turning over my company jet to fly them all in tonight to inspire them to be in attendance for Collin’s presentation tomorrow. Fucking hell, part of me didn’t want this group to have anything to do with this new center for our neuroscience research. They were becoming entitled little bitches through this entire process, and I was having significant doubts about them being around for our opening next year. No one was worth this much trouble.

I leaned back in my desk chair, pinched the bridge of my nose, and forced myself to regroup entirely before getting ready to head over to the exclusive convention location at the resort. This place was to be transformed to create an exquisite and glamorous atmosphere for this event. My teams had better have this prepared as instructed. At this point, I had a feeling I’d be blowing up balloons or vacuuming next.

I glanced over at my ringing phone and eyed it with annoyance when I saw the head of my public relations team calling in. After her call went to voicemail, my head of events planner rang my cell. It only took me getting on the phone—doing their jobs—for them to call me back?

I glared at my phone and instead of answering and listening to excuses, I pulled up my email. I put every department and department head who’d dropped their work in my lap tonight on an email string; this was the only communication they were getting from me tonight.

Alex and I needed to be on the same page with this too. If he let these departments run him over like they just did me, he needed to tighten the reins. No way in hell did I or my vice president deal with this bullshit, especially hours before a massive event that was arranged months ago. I sent out invites for an important meeting on Monday, and we would all be reminded who got paid to do fucking what. If these employees wished to keep their jobs, then I’d see them then. This was all inexcusable.

I swiveled in my chair when the door opened, and I heard Avery speaking to Joe and Clay as she stood, half-in and half-out of the doorway to this room, wearing silky shorts and a camisole.

“Thank you so much again, you guys,” she said in her sexy, scratchy voice that made me observe her with growing lust.

“Tell Jim to take care of his stunning woman tonight,” I heard Clay say. “Have fun, girly.”

“Tell Jim we said thank you for the VIP treatment,” Joe said, always