Holly took in a deep breath of city air as she locked her apartment door behind her. She triple-checked the knob before following the map on her phone toward the subway station. She had never been in such a densely populated space before and found she was too timid to shove and fight, to be the first into the cars. When she finally thrust herself inside, she was able to take stock of her new life and prepare herself for the day ahead.
She had borrowed a few professional pieces from her mother’s closet to wear until she was able to replace them with new versions after her first paycheck. A carefully selected gray skirt, a white blouse that buttoned to the neck, and a gray suit jacket that matched the skirt perfectly gave Holly the feeling of corporate America. She debated wearing a pair of cute high heels that she’d bought for a friend’s wedding a few years back, but instead went with a pair of flat slip-ons that would be perfect for pounding the pavement and running to the nearest coffee shop to get her new boss a latte, just like in the movies.
She’d twisted her hair into a sensible bun and applied minimal makeup to complete her no-nonsense look. While other women might have gone for style over comfort, Holly was not about to let a pair of cute shoes stop her from being able to do her duties. Besides, she wanted to be taken seriously and was afraid no one would respect a shy, petite blonde in high heels in the big city.
Three scary subway trains, a few wrong turns, and six blocks later, Holly made it to the Cantrell International office building right on time. It was a monstrous seventy stories of reflective steel and glass, looming so high Holly almost feared irrationally that it might topple over. She straightened her knee-length skirt and opened a pair of giant doors that led into the main lobby. Dozens of people filed noiselessly in and out of elevator doors, never speaking to each other. The silence was only broken by the sharp tap-tap-tap of women’s high-heeled shoes on the shiny white tiles. As she looked around at the sleek city women with their perfectly tailored suits, flawless makeup, and pointy stilettos, Holly suddenly felt like a dowdy pigeon that had wandered into a nest of tropical birds.
She stepped over to the security desk and dropped her license and proof of employment in front of the guard. Her hands were sweaty and she kept glancing nervously around the busy lobby. Everyone seemed to be in such a hurry. “Excuse me, sir, but I believe you have a badge for me? My name is Holly McIntyre and I just moved here from Michigan to work for Mr. Cantrell. I’ve never been to New York City and—”
“Here’s your card, sweetheart,” the guard said in a thick Brooklyn accent, slapping a piece of plastic down on the desk. “And a word of advice? Don’t talk so much. You need to be tough to make it in this building.”
Holly nodded and meekly slid the ID off the counter before turning toward the elevators. She felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment and internally abashed herself for rambling to a perfect stranger. She was used to chatting with everyone back in Michigan and now she’d just made herself look like a fool to the first person she met in the building. What a great way to start to her first day.
The elevators were packed, going up, and Holly had to squeeze herself between two very large men carrying briefcases to make her way up to the top floor. As people left the lift to exit to their levels, Holly gave herself a short, meaningful pep talk to fill the time during the long ride up.
Okay, Holly, you can do this. You can make it through this. This is just a building in a city, not one of the most major companies on the East Coast for marketing and international sales. So what if it controls eighty percent of the sales to China? All you’ll be doing it fetching coffee and picking up dry-cleaning. No big deal! Maybe you’ll address envelopes sometimes or water plants. Totally doable! Fake it until you make it. Or crash and burn…oh, God.
When she stepped onto the top floor, she was the last person aboard the elevator and entirely sure she should never be a motivational speaker.
The seventieth floor was as white and bright as the lobby below, but primarily empty. A receptionist tapped away on a keyboard. Across from her desk was a bright red couch for visitors, and three heavy oak doors against the far wall. Holly quietly walked up to the receptionist, her ID card clutched in her hand. The woman was a statuesque brunette wearing a chic sweater dress and a pair of fifties-inspired glasses. She stopped typing and looked up at Holly from behind her vintage eyewear.
“H-hi, I’m Holly McIntyre, the new assistant.” She cleared her throat and held up her ID for proof, hoping the receptionist wouldn’t notice the wild shaking of her hand.
“Lovely.” The receptionist purred in a way that made Holly think of a cat that’d just spotted a defenseless mouse. “Go on in to Mr. Cantrell’s office. Begin filing the papers on top of the filing cabinet in alphabetical order. He’ll be in shortly to give you further instruction.”
Holly waited to be dismissed, but took the woman’s return to typing as her release. She walked back to the far wall to the three doors. One was labeled ‘Meeting Room 1’, the second ‘Meeting Room 2’, and the third read ‘Cantrell’ in bold golden letters next to the door. Slowly, she grasped the handle and pushed the door open to let herself inside.
The room was large and richly furnished with a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows behind a stately desk. It was almost sterile-looking with no personal items to be seen between the imposing grandfather clock and leather armchairs. Holly looked around for a picture of her future boss, but the only art on the wall was a modern painting a man might’ve chosen—bright squares of red, blue, and black thrown onto a canvas. She thought a child could’ve put it together. It was nothing like the fine Italian frescos she’d seen online, nor like the famous reproductions of Monet paintings her parents had hanging in their restaurant back home. But what did she know about modern art? Holly had no doubt, however, that the simple piece had cost him thousands.
She placed her secondhand purse on one of the two guest chairs facing the desk and made her way to a very tall, large filing cabinet tucked into the corner of the room. Her hands began to sweat as she saw how monumental the cabinet was. While she was around five feet tall, the cabinet must have been seven feet high. Wondering if she could actually do her duties with this monstrous piece of office furniture, she tried reaching the stack of papers and manila envelopes, but her hands barely grazed the top of the cabinet. She glanced around for a stepladder, or a stool, but only saw the expensive chairs meant for guests. Not finding any other option, she pulled the empty chair toward the cabinet and hopped on, balancing on the plush cushion.
She had just grabbed the heavy stack when the office door burst open, causing her arms to fly up in surprise and the papers to scatter all over the floor, mimicking the worst kind of snowstorm. Holly immediately jumped off the chair with her hand covering her mouth to stifle a small shriek of surprise that escaped as a pained squeak. She had not been in the office more than five minutes and she’d already made a mess. What made it worse was that the only person to witness her shame was her boss, Jackson Cantrell.
***
Jackson raised a brow as he inspected his new assistant. She seemed as flighty as a bird, and almost as delicate.
“Oh, goodness! I’m so sorry, Mr. Cantrell…sir…I can’t believe I…” Holly dropped back to the floor and began sweeping the papers into a pile with her quivering hands. “I’m sorry…I didn’t…I couldn’t reach…”
Jackson bent down to her level and began sorting the papers into small piles, slightly uncomfortable with the anxious woman fidgeting on his office floor. “I take it you must be my new assistant?”
“Y-yes. I’m Holly McIntyre.” She looked up at him, green eyes glassy with fear. “I promise, I’m not always so clumsy.”
He was taken aback upon seeing her fully. She was a pleasant-looking woman with a heart shaped face and full lips. As she lifted her emerald eyes to his, peeking at him from beneath her thick lashes, Jackson had to clear his throat. “Good to meet you, Holly.”
“I’m really not like this. I’m very well organized and—”
Jackson held up a hand. “Please, it’s really not a big deal. Why don’t you just go get settled at your desk for now, and I’ll fix this.”
“My desk?” Her face was still pink from embarrassment, a feature Jackson found oddly endearing.
“Yes. Your office connects with mine so that I’ll be able to reach you easily during business hours.” He scooped the rest of the files up and stood, holding a hand out to her.
Holly smiled uneasily, showing off a row of perfectly white teeth. Her hand was delicate in his, and when she rose to standing, he was surprised to see she had rather shapely legs beneath the unflattering sack she wore. “Of course, Mr. Cantrell. Is there anything I can get for you? Latte? Coffee? Tea?”
He shot her a small smile, amused by her nervousness. “No, thank you. Go get settled.”
Holly snatched her purse and tucked it under her arm, disappearing into her adjacent office. Jackson watched her leave, noting how that dowdy suit, and ugly shoes, did little to show her apparent charms. His other assistants were always well-groomed and expertly dressed, looking at ease in their designer clothes. Holly McIntyre almost seemed like a little girl playing dress-up in her mother’s closet. He thought she would do better if she embraced her girl-next-door beauty instead of hiding it.
As he arranged the last of the files on his desk, he wondered if Holly had what it took to survive life in the big city.
***
Holly quickly grabbed her purse and went into the small room attached to Mr. Cantrell’s office. It had the same large floor-to-ceiling window behind a modern white desk and red swivel chair that matched the theme in the lobby. On the desk were her new tools: a phone and a sleek computer, along with a notepad and a few pens. She decided she’d bring in a few things to make it more homey once she got settled. Perhaps a picture of her family and an orchid to brighten the room.
Holly sat behind her desk, taking deep breathes to calm her vivid embarrassment. She was thankful she had a boss who didn’t seem to mind her sudden clumsiness. She felt so humiliated due to the fact that her ineptitude had been abundantly clear within ten seconds of meeting him.
She also couldn’t believe how attractive he was. As soon as he stepped into the office she felt her face burn up. He wasn’t old, balding, or fitted with a monocle and a cigar like the Monopoly Man. Instead he was a tanned, black-haired, blue-eyed, broad-shouldered god with a smile that only came with the perfect mix of breeding and confidence. He’d broken all the stereotypes Holly originally held. She briefly wondered how she’d manage to work for this man without swooning every time she brought him a latte.
After inspecting the drawers for further supplies, she bumped the computer mouse and the screen came to life, revealing a calendar. As she skimmed the dates, she noticed it was already filled for the next few weeks with Mr. Cantrell’s meetings and business dinners. He obviously hadn’t become so successful without constantly making deals and shaking hands. A few days during the next week were set aside for a visit from his mother, but that was the only glance into his personal life. It seemed he had no time for himself.
When the phone on her desk rang for the first time, Holly nearly jumped out of her seat. She fumbled with the headset before pushing a button labeled answer on the keypad. “G-good morning…Mister…um…” Her heart leaped into her throat as she instantly forgot her boss’s name. Cancella? Cochella? Cortell?
“Who are you?” asked a woman with a heavy accent. Holly guessed she was Russian or Ukrainian, but she couldn’t be sure. “Put Jackson on the phone.”
Holly found a notebook in the top desk drawer and grabbed a pen while she worked to compose herself. “This is his assistant. Who might I say is calling?”
“He knows who I am. Put him on.”
She bit her lip, unsure of what to do. “I’m going to need your name, ma’am.”
The woman on the other end of the phone began yelling at her in Russian. Although Holly didn’t know a single word, she was sure it wasn’t exactly nice. “P-p-please hold.” She pressed hold and then a button labeled Cantrell, and Jackson answered.
“Yes?”
“There’s a very angry Russian woman on the phone demanding to speak with you, but she won’t give me her name. Should I put her through?”
He sighed. “No. That’s just Oxanna. Tell her I’m tied up in meetings.”
Holly frowned before ending the call and putting Oxanna back on the line. “Ma’am? Mr. Cantrell is in meetings all day and cannot be reached. Can I take a message?”
“He is liar! I will come to office and he will talk! I will not be treated like this.” Her words slipped back into Russian, and while Holly tried to take notes at first, she ended up nervously hanging up on the woman, guessing she was a little on the unstable side. She knew it was wildly rude of her, but her panic overcame all sense of politeness.
“Is she done?” Jackson’s smooth voice startled her. He stood in the open door, casually leaning against the frame.
Holly took off her headset and tried to look like she wasn’t flustered. “Yes, she’s no longer on the line.”
“Never let her calls through, or any other woman who wants to speak with me for personal matters. They will try to bully you into talking to me, but I’m hardly interested.”
She made a little note saying no women callers and stuck it to the phone. “So, no personal calls during office hours at all?”
“I didn’t say that. Just don’t let any hysterical-sounding women through. This is my place of business, and if I wished to speak to them, they would have my personal number. The only person who might call to speak to me is my mother. She uses whatever number is most convenient for her at the moment.”
“Okay, I’ll make sure I patch her through.”
“Also, if my campaign manager calls, make sure he’s put through immediately, even if I’m in a meeting.”
“Campaign manager?”
Jackson inspected one of his cufflinks, adjusting it before turning his attention back to her. “Yes. I’m running for mayor this year and voting season is quickly approaching.”
Business tycoon, handsome bachelor, and future mayor? Holly couldn’t believe he had enough hours in the day. His schedule certainly wouldn’t make one think so. Surely he had time to sleep? Holly’s mind drifted to a luxurious view of him in bed, but she hurriedly dispelled the thought. “I’ll make sure he gets through. Can I do anything else for you?”
“No, you’re doing a fine job.” He nodded and stepped into his own office, leaving Holly alone.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. She sorted files, took a few meaningless messages for her new boss, and didn’t even make one coffee run. She had expected to be running around the city delivering paperwork and doing all the menial tasks a man like her boss would be too busy to take care of, but she found herself browsing the Internet more often than not. By the time she left for home, Mr. Cantrell had already gone for a dinner meeting and Holly locked up her office door behind her with a new set of keys that led to the floor’s private bathroom, her office, and Mr. Cantrell’s office. Being a New York City career girl was hardly the challenge she expected.