She shrugged. “I have a new client meeting next week. Getting used to all the logistics. Lots of paperwork. Nothing like I thought it’d be.”
“Right? The real world is so anticlimactic.” I pushed my head into the back of the couch and repositioned my feet on the coffee table.
Zoey rolled her eyes. “Not everything can be like the movies.”
“If it were, I’d have to do some major snooping in Brogan’s apartment for a torture room.”
“Hey, I saw those arms. I wouldn’t mind being the subject of his torture.”
“I’ll give you one of the employee manuals. That should have you screaming the safe word in no time.”
“Point taken,” she said, and went back to eating popcorn and checking social media.
I decided to open up my email and make sure I didn’t have any pressing issues that needed to be handled before the morning. A deluge of CC’d interoffice memos flooded my inbox as I scrolled down the list. Just as I was about to close down my email, a new message pinged. My heart stuttered as my eyes scanned the sender. Brogan.
My first thought was crap, I should not have snooped in his fridge; he totally knows I almost ate his garlic chicken. It was followed by the realization that the email was only addressed to me, something that had never happened before.
From: Brogan Starr
To: Lainey Taylor
Subject: Meeting tomorrow
Lainey,
Jackson will be out of the building tomorrow. Can you schedule a phone conference with Patrick Duvall tomorrow at 8pm. Tell him we’ll be discussing his client’s growth in media following.
-B
Brogan Starr, CEO Starr Media Antichrist
My heart tapped tiny staccato beats against my ribcage. He’d emailed me—okay, because Jackson was off tomorrow, but still!—to handle someone as important as Patrick Duvall, and he’d snuck in a joke about being the devil. I quickly clicked the reply button and pondered how to respond. The appropriate reply would be a short On it, boss, but when in the past few weeks had I been appropriate around Brogan Starr? No sense in starting now.
From: Lainey Taylor
To: Brogan Starr
Subject: Re: Meeting tomorrow
I will call him first thing in the morning. Hope you get to leave the office soon.
Lainey Taylor
Second Assistant to Anti-Antichrist
Person Suffering from Chronic Foot in Mouth Syndrome
Yes, this email was fishing—and slightly unprofessional. Except he totally started it. I couldn’t help wondering, though, where he was right now. In his office? Back in his barren apartment with Bruce slobbering on his leg? I didn’t even want to delve into the reasons why he might be thinking of me at such a late hour—because Ah! Brogan Starr was thinking about me after ten!
Good thing he couldn’t see that I had the mentality of a middle schooler when it came to my interest in him…which would surely go away sometime soon. Right as soon as I gave up dark chocolate and free samples from Sephora.
A reply came back almost immediately.
From: Brogan Starr
To: Lainey Taylor
Subject: Re: Meeting tomorrow
Who says I’m at the office? For someone who claims to know my whereabouts at all times, you’re doing a poor job.
Brogan Starr, CEO Starr Media Employer of uninformed 2nd assistants This definitely counted as flirting, right? I wasn’t just imagining it. What did it say about me that I wanted to flirt back? That you’re a normal, red-blooded American girl with a Kindle overloaded (never!) with office romances. I stretched my neck and gave myself a moment to come up with another reply. This was not flirting, this was Brogan being nice, as always, in his witty, typical way.
From: Lainey Taylor
To: Brogan Starr
Subject: Re: Meeting tomorrow
I’ll try to hone my schedule-stalking skills by next month’s meeting.
Lainey Taylor
Non-stalker Second Assistant
From: Brogan Starr
To: Lainey Taylor
Subject: Re: Meeting tomorrow
Good. You’ll know where to find me. Good night, Lainey.
Brogan Starr, CEO Starr Media “Good night, Mr. Starr,” I said. There’d be no sleeping any time soon on my end. Not with thoughts of rolled-up sleeves, strong hands, and a set of irresistible dimples to keep me up. What had changed his mind about me? Maybe, just maybe, I was finally fitting in to the company. I closed my laptop and smiled. What had I gotten myself into?
Chapter Nine
Lainey Taylor Rule of Life #77:
If you decide to trespass into your boss’s place, make sure he’s not home first.
I grabbed the leash off Jackson’s desk at the end of the workday a week later. I hadn’t seen Brogan the rest of the week after the email exchange, and there hadn’t been any other email interactions, which made me think that a) I’d imagined the whole thing, which would be entirely possible if I didn’t have the emails as evidence, or b) He really was just being friendly, nothing more. Which was entirely more plausible.