kingdom like a proud lion keeping stock of his pride.
Me? I had no interest in such things. When I was at work, I was at work. There was no room for dilly-dallying or people-watching.
Now that everyone was gone, I didn’t mind having the blinds open. I liked it actually. I could enjoy looking out at the office during this time of night.
Outside my office were neat rows of desks of other representatives who worked for Jon. We were an open-concept office in architecture and culture. Everyone sat together regardless of what department they worked in. Accounting, sales, social media, public relations, and everyone in between sat at their desks outside my office. To my left and out of view were offices of the other top agents, including Ethan’s, whose office was three doors down from me nestled beside the break room. It was fitting because of all of us, he was the most likely to wander over there and waste time with pretty girls like Caroline.
Around the corner from the break room was the lobby that you stepped into as soon as you got off the elevator on our floor twenty-four floors up from ground level. Jon liked a bit of glam in his decor and fashion, hence the burgundy and gold pocket square he’d worn today. So the lobby didn’t at all feel like the waiting room for a marketing agency. Where one might expect to walk into a cool-toned space with simple furniture, they actually found themselves stepping onto a red, green, and blue Turkish rug. Royal-blue velvet chairs sat on the outskirts of the rug with a Keurig coffee machine on one side table. A collection of mugs was stored beneath it that read “JDR” on the side.
We’d lost track of how many people had stolen them. I had a sneaking suspicion Ethan had at least six of those mugs at home in his kitchen cupboards. I’d stake money on it.
Jon was also a big fan of plants. He insisted they breathed life into a space. So naturally, the office was full of plants. Boston ferns hung from hooks in the ceiling in the corners of the lobby, succulents sat in a neat row on the shelf built into the front of the receptionist’s desk. Caroline had needed to be reminded to water them several times over. Calatheas sat in brightly patterned pots all over the place, and diffusers blew steam into the air in every single room, which meant there was always something glowing in a corner and humming quietly as the diffuser changed colors.
My office was a stark contrast to the rest of the space. As soon as it had been deemed officially mine, I’d painted the forest-green walls white. I’d replaced the cherry oak desk and plush rugs with a marble-top white desk. I’d put down no carpets and instead let the grey vinyl remain bare. Minimalist art hung on my walls—only signed originals, of course. Most were done in black and white.
That was my aesthetic. Simple. Professional. Clean.
Jon hated it, but he put up with it.
The snowflakes however? He refused to take no for an answer. So, despite my loud and vigorous protests, there were in fact about a dozen sparkly snowflakes hanging from my ceiling.
They taunted me as I tipped my head back and sipped my scotch. One of them, the one closest to the air vent above the liquor cart, twirled in gentle and incessant circles. I willed it to be still, to no avail.
I sighed.
Soon, the entire office would give way to the Christmas season. Last year, Jon had gone over the top with decor. After coming into the office after the weekend he’d hired professional decorators—yes, professional decorators—to do up the office, I’d stopped in my tracks. It smelled like Christmas. The air even tasted like Christmas.
All my colleagues thought it looked beautiful. They liked the holiday-inspired coffee flavors in the break room as well as the bowls of nostalgic treats like After Eights or Terry’s Chocolate Oranges. Productivity took a bit of a dive but Jon insisted that was what he wanted. He didn’t believe that December should be the busiest month of the year. Instead, he preferred to front load.
January was when we really sunk our teeth in, but December was for celebrating, eating, drinking, and being merry.
Being merry, I thought as I polished off my drink. The only thing that was going to make me merry was making partner. I’d wanted it too long to fall