“So,” Kirk said as we walked into the office the next morning. “You wanna hear the hot gossip I heard from Meg in accounting?”
“She slept with Cassidy again?”
Kirk chuckled. “Nah man, this is about you.”
I paused in the hallway and raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”
“Well,” Kirk said, clutching his briefcase. “Apparently Samantha Doyle went on quite a rant about you in the parking lot yesterday.”
I scoffed. “Is that really any surprise?”
“Yeah but get this. She referred to you as ‘pretty boy’.”
“Pretty boy?”
Kirk almost flat out giggled on the spot.
I scrolled through the morning news on my phone as I let the report sink in. “So what, Kirk.”
“She clearly thinks you’re attractive, then.”
“Oh, please. She means like, boy band member with a massive ego who uses too much hair gel, or something like that. Don’t overthink this.”
Kirk grabbed my arm and stopped me in my tracks. “She’s pretty hot, Johnathan. What if she’s…I don’t know…the one?”
I froze and looked at Kirk bemusedly. “The one, Kirk? Are you fucking kidding me? You sound like the…that candle thing from Beauty and the Beast.”
“First of all, his name is Lumiere, and second, you need to keep an open mind. I keep telling you.”
I rolled my eyes as I turned around and headed towards my office. “Bye, Kirk.” I said with a sardonic grin.
“Later, lover boy,” he said, and then, thankfully, he got to work and left me alone.
I was taken aback when I got to my office, however. Instead of Sabryna sitting alone with her tea, she was chatting with a tall blonde woman who was perched daintily on the age of the desk. They appeared to be deep into a political conversation, and the blonde woman froze as I entered.
“There you are Johnathan,” Sabryna said. “I’d like you to meet Amy, she’s Samantha’s assistant.”
Amy stood up and sauntered over to me, and I shook her hand, which was luxuriously soft and adorned with a French manicure so neat you’d think she had been born wearing it.
“Johnathan Torver,” I said, smiling.
“Amy,” she said in a deeper tone than I had been expecting. “Pleasure.”
I could barely take my eyes off Amy as she turned around to once again perch herself gracefully on the edge of the desk. God, she was hot. She reminded me of a sort of naughty Audrey Hepburn—she somehow managed to emit elegance and sensuality with every step she took. It was tempting to keep staring, but I quickly jumped back to reality.
“How are you ladies this morning?” I asked.
“Just fine,” Amy said with a smirk, and I watched her eyes shamelessly travel slowly up and down my body with deliberate intensity. She smiled back up at me, and my heart jumped in my chest a little bit.
It was only then that I noticed Sabryna was beginning to look uncomfortable. “Johnathan, remember you have a meeting with Ms. Doyle in an hour. In the conference room?”
“You got it.”
Amy slid up from the desk and spun gracefully towards the door. “See you around, Sabryna.” She smiled towards me. “Mr. Torver.”
The second the door closed behind her Sabryna looked up at me with a raised eyebrow. “Want me to book you two a room?”
I scoffed and let out a laugh. “Not necessary,” I said, but Sabryna had always been too smart for me. To be honest, that’s why I needed her. She always stopped me before I made any mistakes too big to take back.
“Torver, you lay one finger on her and Samantha Doyle will have your head, you know that right?”
I put my hands up. “Okay. Fine.”
“You heard about that rant she went on in the parking lot yesterday. You’re walking on hot coals here.”
I shook my head. “Why am I always the last person to hear about office gossip? I mean…I’m the boss.”
“It’s because you’re the boss, you loon.” Sabryna said laughing. “Just be careful, okay?”
“Will do,” I sighed, and sat down to check some emails before the meeting started. I shivered. I could still feel Amy’s eyes raking me over, slowly and methodically, and I smiled.
I was definitely going to sleep with her.
***
An hour later I was waiting in the conference room, contemplating the impossible task of trying to get Samantha Doyle to tolerate me. I looked out the window at the beautiful day outside and groaned. I would have done anything to run out of this ridiculous meeting and go out on my boat and-
“We’re leaving,” I said the second Samantha opened the door. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?” Samantha demanded as she ran after me towards the elevator. “What are you doing?”
“Trust me, you’ll like this. It’s a surprise.”
Samantha looked at me skeptically. She looked tired, and stressed too. Her pantsuit still looked as polished as always, and her brown hair was still coiled around her head in a perfect knot. She looked like she needed a break. And hell, I could use one too. I smirked to myself as the elevator doors opened to the ground level. I had found the perfect way to charm the pants off Samantha Doyle. Not pants, but…you know, never mind.
The Uber I had called pulled up, and I held the door open for Samantha with a smile. “Ready?” I asked, and gave her my most charming grin.
Samantha looked at the interior of the car with a glare of disapproval. “You’re not taking me to a dark alley to murder me, are you?”
“I’m far more of a hired assassin kind of guy,” I said, helping her into the car. “Don’t like to get my hands dirty.” Samantha let out the tiniest of smiles.
I slid down into the seat next to her as the driver made his way to the Seattle harbor. The minivan that had picked us up was less than stylish, and soon the atmosphere was filled with stifling silence and the stench of a cheap cherry-scented air freshener.
“Could you turn on the radio, please?” I asked the Uber driver. He obliged, and I groaned internally as a pop song came through the speakers that was just a bit too saccharine for the current situation. I’ve always been far more of a classic rock sort of guy.
Samantha was furiously typing into her phone, looking as if she might spontaneously combust at any moment. She finally looked up at me, still deeply suspicious.
“Any hints? Twenty questions? Anything?” she asked, with the fire of a well-trained interrogator in her brown eyes.
I smiled. “I hope you don’t get seasick.”
I heard her swear under her breath as the driver turned the volume knob up.
Ten minutes and three sickening pop songs later, our driver pulled up to the busy yet blissful calm of the Seattle harbor.
I jumped out of the car and grinned at the beautiful day before me. The water sparkled in the mid-afternoon sun, and a light breeze was rocking the boats rhythmically back and forth. The boardwalk was peaceful at this time of day, as lunch vendors made their first batches of food and families cruised in between stands with their strollers. The sight of this kind of day would have almost been enough to forget who I was forced to share it with.
“So,” I said, helping Samantha out of the back of the car. “How would you like to have a meeting on my boat?”
“You have a boat?” Samantha said.
“Well gee,” I said playfully. “You don’t have to say it like that.”
Samantha forced a smile, and followed me down the pier with the look of a woman walking into a dentist’s office to get a root canal.
“It’ll be fun,” I said. “My boat is a far better place to have this meeting than the conference room, I promise. It’s a nice boat.”
“Of course it is.” Samantha sighed, and this time I just ignored her.
I walked up to my boat and smiled proudly, looking back towards Samantha. “Here she is.” I had a bad habit of bringing women I wanted to impress onto the Cassatt (named for my mother’s favorite painter) and being anything but modest about it. As awful as it sounds, there’s nothing better to a guy than showing a beautiful woman the expensive boat you bought with your own hard-earned money and seeing the glow in her skin when it registered with her: Holy crap, he’s rich too? So, although my intentions with Samantha were quite different, you can see how I would think that bringing her on board the boat would instantly impre—
“Ah, so you’re one of those men who refer to their boats using feminine pronouns,” she raised an eyebrow. “Never would have guessed.”
I tried.
“It might be kind of hard for you to board in those heels,” I said, laughing.
“I guess you’re right,” Samantha admitted, and began to peel them off her feet. I could barely believe the sight of her, wobbling on one foot, her pantyhose-sheathed feet smooth against the dirty pier. She looked entirely out of her element already.
Samantha followed me onto the boat and looked around. My boat was the first luxurious purchase I had made after the Torver Group had really taken off. It could either be called a really nice boat or kind of a crappy yacht. Either way, the Cassatt was my escape, my sanctuary from the stress of the corporate world. There was nothing I liked better after a long week at the office than flying across the water and watching the sunset dip below the mountains. Hopefully, Samantha would feel the same.
I walked over to the controls and took a seat. “So,” I said smiling. “I figure we drive out a little bit, towards Mount Rainier, and then we can stop and have the meeting while we take in the view.”
“Sounds good,” Samantha said flatly, and turned away from me to look towards the city skyscrapers. I was almost shocked that she agreed so easily and simply, after her skeptical attitude in the car. Maybe she had decided to turn around our relationship for the better as well—after all, it was the success of her company more than mine that was on the line here. I whipped on my pair of Ray-Bans and started driving out away from the pier, while Samantha took a seat on the chair at the stern of the boat. I looked over at her and smiled. I was determined to earn her friendship by the end of this meeting, no matter what the cost.
“You do stuff downtown a lot?” I yelled over the waves, directing the boat towards the mountain.
“Yeah,” Samantha said, awkwardly trying to pin a loose piece of her hair back into place. “I go to restaurants a lot.”
“So you’re a foodie, huh?” I grinned. The picnic would go over well.
“Not really. Not so much a foodie as much as someone who likes to treat herself.” She smiled with a demure satisfaction.
“Any restaurant recommendations?”
“Hm…” Samantha bit her lip and thought carefully. “Jane’s Tavern, for the fries, and the deconstructed mushroom bacon burger.” She let her thoughts wander for a moment looking out at the waves. “Oh! And there’s a Korean place near the office that has fantastic bibimbap.”
“I’ll be sure to check them both out,” I said, smiling over at her. Samantha already seemed more relaxed, and I was relieved. She had peeled off her pantyhose, and her bare legs dangled over the edge of the seat as the boat powered along.
“So where did you grow up?” I asked.
“Ohio.”
“Oh! That’s…um. That’s…”
Samantha laughed. “Yeah I know, don’t fake your interest.”
“Okay,” I said, determined to keep going. “What’s your favorite movie?”
Samantha suddenly turned away from the water and looked at me with the same intense gaze she had given me at the meeting. “Why are you so determined to get to know me, Mr. Torver?”
We had reached a calm spot with the mountain in view, so I brought the boat to a stop. “I just want this to go well for both of us.”
Samantha said nothing, and I reached next to me for the large tote bag I had covertly carried along. “Here we are,” I said, and began to pull our picnic lunch out of the bag. “Only the very finest for the great runaway boating picnic business meeting of 2017,” I said, and smiled wide at her, trying to establish a sense of camaraderie, an inside joke. “One bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, crackers with brie and prosciutto, primavera pasta, and for dessert, macarons.” I waved my hands with a flourish. “Voilà.”
Samantha looked at me like I had just pulled live animals out of my bag.
“Seriously?” she said.
“You’re right, you’re right.” I joked, shaking my head at the food. “Should have brought a white wine to go with the brie…”
“Snap out of it, Johnathan. What is all this? I mean, I’ve met men who wouldn’t do half this much to propose to someone.”
I sighed resignedly. “It’s really important to me that I start all my business relationships off on the right foot. And to be honest, I’ve never had anyone react the way you did yesterday.”
She rolled her eyes. “You mean someone who isn’t immediately swooning over your charm, and freaking…boat cruise meetings? I mean…” Samantha sighed, and met my eyes, more gently this time. “It’s really important to you that people like you, isn’t it?”
I smiled. “You’re right. It is.” I poured my wine into a stemless plastic glass from the galley. “But you, my friend, should enjoy having people in your life who like to bribe you with good food.”
Samantha let a laugh slip free. “Cheers to that, I guess.”
“Cheers,” I said, as our glasses collided with a clink that echoed out over the water.
I watched as Samantha unbuttoned her button-down work blouse and folded it in a square next to her, leaving her in a floral-patterned tank top. She had finally surrendered her battle with her hairpins and let her hair flow in loose waves behind her, the sun highlighting the fiery auburn streaks in her brunette hair that were usually hidden by her complicated updo. The afternoon sun highlighted the graceful curves of her neck, and I found myself wondering why she didn’t wear her hair down more often.
“Hey, you still didn’t tell me what your favorite movie was.” I pointed out with a smile.
“Hmmm.” Samantha said, leaning up towards the sun with her hands placed behind her. “Mary Poppins.”
“A true classic,” I agreed, my mouth half full of pasta. “Lots of really great…um…chimney sweeping.”
“Watch out there,” Samantha joked. “We don’t want a repetition of you and that doughnut yesterday.”
“True,” I agreed, and pulled over my briefcase. “We should probably get to the business meeting part of our boat trip, shall we?”
Samantha’s face hardened up in a split second as she quickly swallowed the remainder of the wine in her glass. “Very well.”
I had hardly removed the necessary files from my briefcase when Samantha was already on the defensive.
“Look, Johnathan, I appreciate…” she waved her hands around the boat. “Whatever this is…but don’t think it’ll be any easier to…”
“Look, Sam,”
“Samantha.”
I frowned and looked towards her pleadingly. “I really want this to work. For both of us. And none of these terms are final. I am willing to negotiate, and I’d appreciate your input.”
“Thank you,” Samantha said, sitting up a bit straighter. She still had the same amount of poise, even though she was barefoot with her hair down, and the effect was almost comical. I smiled to myself. This might actually work this time.
“A lot of this won’t be easy to hear,” I said as sympathetically as possible.
“I know,” Samantha said softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. I still wasn’t sure how much I believed her.
“Okay,” I sighed, opening up a file to my notes. “To be honest, we don’t need as many people as you currently have on staff to organize all of our clients. But luckily, this layoff process will probably be easier than most.”
Samantha scoffed. “How, exactly?”
I tried to word my findings in as gentle of a way as I could manage. “Well, I’ve been looking at your data sheets from the past twenty-four months, and to be honest, Samantha…there are some…liabilities there.”
“Liabilities?” Samantha’s eyes were suddenly more furious than I had ever seen them. “You did not just call my employees a liability.”
“It’s just—”
“That’s where I draw the line, Johnathan.” Samantha scolded, and I was suddenly terrified to be alone with her in the middle of the deserted water.
“Samantha, please…consider this from my point of view. We decided to acquire Wordsworth because it would benefit us. If we keep all these employees on payroll…well, it’s just not a benefit anymore.”
Samantha stared at me, waiting.
“I’m sorry.”
Samantha squished a macaron between her fingers and laughed. “It’s all about the money for you, isn’t it?”
I was taken aback. “Of course it isn’t,” I assured her. “Look, I’m sure your employees are all good people—”
“They’re great people, Johnathan.”
I sighed and tried once again to explain to Samantha. “Business isn’t about people. Business is about ideas and risks and a constantly fluctuating economy. It’s about winning. We don’t make friends in business. We network.”
“Business is about making connections.” Samantha said assuredly, and held her head up like a queen.
“And…” I said. “…businesses that believe that are doomed to fail…” I took a sip of wine and mumbled, gesturing towards her. “…case in point.”
“Fuck you, Torver.”
I put my glass down and sighed, determined not to let my temper get the best of me again. “Look, Samantha, I’m sorry. That was inappropriate.”
Samantha jerked her head back in anger. “You bet it was.”
“I just—”
“Do you know how old the Wordsworth Company is, Johnathan?” Samantha scolded, her eyes indignant with emotion. “Next to you, we’re ancient. We’re not some hip new start-up that can change their whole system to fit with the trends. We have men and women who have spent their entire working lives at this company, okay? We have freaking…” Samantha’s voice started wavering. “We have fucking file cabinets full of papers typed up on typewriters. We’re an institution, we’re a team, and we’re a family, and you have the nerve to just…waltz in and ruin these people’s lives without even…without even—”
Oh shit, she was crying.
Samantha was trying her best to breathe and remain professional, but it was no use. She looked as if she was about five seconds away from completely blubbering, and I recoiled in fear. I had always been uncomfortable seeing other adults cry, and seeing a professional as composed as Samantha usually was, spiral out of control, was worse.
“I’ll think about it.” I said.
“What?”
Samantha stared at me wide-eyed. “I’m sorry I got emotional, I just…” she shook her head and looked down. “This past year hasn’t been easy.”
I took a deep breath and looked at her, trying my best to sound sincere. “Look Samantha, when I say, ‘thinking about it’, it just means I won’t lay off your employees right away. I’ll look at some possible solutions, but…” I knotted my hands together. “The chances are not very good. If it ends up costing us too much money, we’ll have to—”
“Those people are worth the money,” Samantha said. “You have to trust me on that.”
I smiled. “And you won’t hate me if I have to do it?”
Samantha eyed me sideways, “No promises.”
I held out my hand to her. “Well, Ms. Doyle,” I said rather triumphantly in the poshest accent I could muster. “Shall we make this peace treaty official?”
Samantha laughed and held out her hand. “I suppose,” she said with a playful raise of her eyebrow. Black dots of mascara were smudged under her eyes from her tears.
We shared a moment of silence as we watched the majesty of Mount Rainier tower over us. The mid-afternoon sun was warm enough to make the first chilly autumn breezes feel like relief. I took another look over at Samantha, who was trying to put her hair back into place. Christ, this meeting had certainly been a lot more than I had originally bargained for. I wondered if promising to look into alternate solutions for the layoff situation was a bad move. I knew, and Samantha must have known too, that there was no way I was going to change my mind. I had seen the data on her employees—they were old, unproductive, and unequipped for the rapidly changing pace of the Seattle business world, but for some reason, they were her everything. Seeing someone as tightly-wound as Samantha come undone like that had made me want to give her and her employees a chance…and perhaps it was more because of curiosity now, than anything else. Why was this so important to her? Why did she want to keep these people who had probably dragged the Wordsworth Company into bankruptcy in the first place?
Either way, Samantha Doyle was a roller coaster of a woman, and I had a curious sort of intuition that I was strapped into my seat for good.