Raine (Gods of the Fifth Floor #2) - M.V. Ellis Page 0,10
knew what he was not-so-subtly hinting at. “To get the job done. I’m happy to help in any way I can.”
“Well bless your heart, isn’t that ‘nice’ of you, given that’s what you’re being paid for?” Ouch. The guy was a silver-tongued tyrant. Five days of that degree of sarcasm was going to be painful. I was beginning to regret my decision to take the work, even for double pay.
The situation reminded me of what my mom always used to say about how sometimes the cost of something wasn’t just about the money. I had a strong feeling that this was going to be one of those times.
I was pretty sure that anything I might say was just going to piss him off more, so I kept quiet.
“Skip to the page about Confession, quickly. I want everyone here in five.”
“Of course. Consider it—” Raine’s office door slammed before I could finish. “Done.”
As luck—otherwise known as the totally shit timing that was a constant feature of my life—would have it, the next page from the one I was reading when Raine had come at me was all about Confession.
It turned out that Confession was just an in-house name for the meeting that the four founders and directors of the company held every morning—sometimes multiple times per day—to battle-plan and strategize for the day ahead.
The manual included the names of the other three attendees and their PA’s extension numbers. I simply had to call each one and let them know. I did that quickly, and, during our brief introductions, found each one to be personable and helpful. Not that I had much to go on from those tiny interactions, but it was better than nothing, and none had left a bad impression, so I was taking that as a good omen.
As I’d settled back down to read the rest of the very detailed, and really quite thick, manual, I was almost immediately distracted by footsteps and chatter coming down the hall from the bank of elevators toward me.
Jesus lord! Nothing in the manual had said anything about the four directors looking like something that had just stepped off of a Milan catwalk. How was it possible that all of the principals of one company—including Raine—looked like they’d been hit by the pretty stick, and had bodies to match? It wasn’t normal.
Not for the first time that day, I was really beginning to wonder whether there were hidden cameras everywhere, and I was unwittingly taking part in some kind of social experiment, or reality TV show. Nothing or nobody jumped out at me, so I was going to have to accept the fact that this was what passed for real in the new version of my life.
As I sat slack-jawed, watching the parade of fine specimens, I almost had to pinch myself to remind me that what I was seeing was real.
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop from grinning like the village idiot, although any mirth was pretty short lived when one of the three peeled away from the pack and approached my desk.
“Who are you, and what are doing here?” He looked and sounded less than pleased to see me.
“Umm... I... well... Working, I guess?”
“No, you’re not. Who sent you?”
Why had the interrogation felt just like the one I’d faced from Raine a little while earlier?
“I was booked by Personnel Matters.”
“There’s no way. I’m sorry, but there must have been some kind of confusion, and unfortunately, you can’t stay. You’ll be compensated for your time, but you have to leave.
“Sorry. Mr. Davies—”
“Don’t let him hear you addressing him that way.
“Sorry, Raine said I can stay for this week.”
“We’ll see about that.” He didn’t sound like he wanted to see about it. Quite the opposite, in fact. He sounded like he wanted me out of there faster than you could say, “You’re not a guy.”
With that, the partner... I looked at the photos that James had included as part of the handover bible... Nate Douglas, the CEO of the agency, had walked away.
The notes also said that he was pretty easy going to work with unless he was riled up about something. Well, judging by how he’d just been with me, I hoped that I wasn’t the thing that had caused him to be so pissed off, but the evidence did seem to suggest that. I felt badly, even though I was pretty sure that, apart from being female, I’d done nothing to deserve his ire.