Ashley

I walked into work on Monday morning with my hair fluttering around my shoulders. I felt confidence radiating from me as I made my way to the elevator, a smile beaming across my cheeks. I felt like a new woman. I had a bit of extra cash in my pocket and a new style to my hair, and I prepared myself for the barrage of compliments that would come my way. I walked toward the elevator, sashaying a little deeper in the skirt I was wearing.

But none of the compliments came.

People came to my desk all morning, Mr. Brent with questions about the tax code he still didn’t understand and the secretary with messages for me. I peeked above my cubicle and bid Barbara a good morning, and she looked right at me without saying anything. I felt my heart sink into my stomach as I looked into the small mirror I had pinned against the fabric walls of my small little space.

Was I really that unimportant?

I opened the folders on my desk and decided to get to work. People continued to walk by me without so much as a ‘hello.’ I tucked my hair behind my ear as my eyes flew along the balance sheets. I started circling improper balances and making notes in the margins as to what the final outcome should be given the numerical data present. I flipped through sheet after sheet while taking phone calls from people who were struggling to pay their minimum monthly balance.

I flipped between being someone’s life counselor to someone’s human calculator easier than I wanted to admit.

The longer the day went on, the sillier I felt with my hair. I searched for some chopsticks or a banana clip or a hair tie. Hell, I would’ve even taken a rubber band. But there was nothing to put my ridiculous hair up with, and I felt more exposed than ever.

Even though my hair was tumbling into my face.

I fielded phone call after phone call while correcting all the mistakes on the balance sheets. I had no idea who was doing these things, but there had to be something wrong with the algorithms they were using. Almost every tally field was incorrect, and I was getting frustrated with it.

I hung up the phone, shoved all the sheets back into the file, and pulled out a sticky note so I could send them all back.

“Miss Ternbeau?”

I jumped at the sound of my name as I whipped my head around.

“Mr. Fowler. Good morning. What can I do for you?” I asked.

“Good morning?” he asked with a chuckle. “It’s two in the afternoon.”

“It is?” I asked.

I looked over at my computer and saw my calendar flashing. A reminder to take lunch was on my screen, and I blushed as Mr. Fowler looked over my shoulder.

“That’ll get us in trouble if you do it too often,” he said.

“I’m so sorry. I just got wrapped up in these balance sheets,” I said.

“Well put them away for now. Mr. Sheldon wants to see you.”

“He does?” I asked.

“Mhm. As soon as you get a moment. Gather those balance sheets, and we’ll drop them off on the way.”

I wrote a message on the sticky note to have the algorithm in the Excel document checked. Then I gathered up the rest of the folders as the phone on my desk began to ring. I started to reach for it before someone cleared their throat, and I looked back to see Mr. Fowler staring at me.

“Sorry,” I said. “Habit.”

We walked by my boss’s office, and I stuck the folders in the file catcher on his door. I couldn’t believe Mr. Sheldon wanted to see me. What was it about? Had something bounced back on the taxes? Oh my gosh. What if they asked for the bonus back. Were they going to ask for it back? I didn’t have the money to give it back to them. I didn’t have five thousand dollars in all of my accounts combined. What was I going to do if something was wrong?

I stepped into the elevator with Mr. Fowler as the doors closed. I looked up at him, and he smiled at me, a kind smile that relaxed me a bit. Would he be smiling at me if I had royally messed something up?

I honestly had no idea.

I was going to see Mr. Sheldon for the first time since the party. For the first time since we drunkenly made a brazen mistake. I wondered if Mr. Fowler knew about it. Everyone in the office knew he and Mr. Sheldon were close. I kept my eyes glued to the elevator doors as the encasement moved, and I could feel my heart slamming against my chest.

Was Mr. Sheldon wanting to see me about that night?

Oh, holy shit. I didn’t even think about that.

The elevator doors opened, and Mr. Fowler ushered me out. He was following closely behind me and led me into something that looked like a waiting room. I sat down in a chair and put my hands in my lap, crossing my feet at my ankles to try and quell their shaking.

“Mr. Sheldon will call for you when he’s ready. He’s talking with someone right now, but they should be done soon.”

“Thank you, Mr. Fowler,” I said.

“Good luck.”

Good luck? Good luck! What the hell did that mean? The man shot me a grin as he left the room, and my hands started trembling in my lap. Why would I need luck to see Mr. Sheldon? Oh my gosh, I had done something wrong. I’d miscalculated or mislabeled something, and this was going to all backfire on me. I bet the person he was meeting with was Mr. Brent. Shit. If I got fired over this, I’d have no way to take care of my mother.

“I’ll talk with you soon, Jimmy. And thank you for lunch. It was wonderful.”

I whipped my head up at the sound of the woman’s voice and saw Nina walking out of the office in front of me. She was beautiful, with her straight black hair pouring down to her chin. It framed her face nicely and contrasted her deep gray eyes. She had long legs and a slim build and walked with a grace unparalleled by women until her. She looked over at me and gave me a cute grin. With the perfect pouty lips that were tinted the perfect rosy tint.

She was simply perfect.

Something I would never be.

It was the first time I was seeing Nina in person, and she was more beautiful than the cameras made her to be. I could see why Mr. Sheldon stayed with a woman like her, especially after a one-night stand with a woman like me. I was short and stocky. My hair was a tangled mess and was way too long down my back still. No one liked glasses. No one liked to try and see someone through glasses. I pushed them up my nose as Nina disappeared down the hallway, her heels clicking with her feather-light steps.

I stomped around in heels like a stumbling elephant compared to her.

“Miss Ternbeau?”

His voice hit my ears, and I whipped my head up to see him. There he was, in a tightly-tailored suit as he buttoned his navy blue coat. It accented his eyes. His sparkling blue eyes popped against the navy of his suit. His smile was kind, but his eyes were exploring. Taking me in as I stood from my seat.

“I heard you wanted to see me, Mr. Sheldon.”

“Come into my office so we can talk,” he said.

He stood in the doorway to his office as I let myself inside. I could feel his eyes on me as I passed him, my elbow lightly grazing his stomach. I felt my breath hitch in my throat as he closed the door behind me, and I turned to face him as he stood there. Tall and strong. With his limber legs and his large hands stuffed into the pocket of his navy pants.

“You saved my company a great deal of money this tax season,” Mr. Sheldon said.

“I was only doing what was asked of me,” I said.

“And you did it well. Though I have to ask you something.”

“Anything,” I said breathlessly.

His eyes connected with mine as he sat at his desk, and I cleared my throat of the knot that was forming.

“Ross tells me you have a copy of the updated tax code in your desk. With highlights of incentives you used for us. Is that true?” he asked.

I felt my cheeks blush as I stayed standing in the middle of his office.

“Ross?” I asked.

“Mr. Fowler. My COO.”

“Oh, yes. Sorry. Um, well, it was taking a while for your lawyers to get me the information I needed, so I purchased a quick copy. It didn’t take me long to read through it. Three nights, maybe. I kept making changes and updates as I learned new information.”

“Three days. Only three days?” he asked.

“Should it have taken me a shorter amount of time? Is this what this meeting’s about?” I asked.

Laughter fell from his lips as my brow furrowed in confusion. What was so funny? Had I said something funny?

“We pay our lawyers hundreds of thousands of dollars a year to do what you did in a week, Miss Ternbeau. I’m no tax expert, but that document is thousands of pages long,” Mr. Sheldon said. “How did you get through it in three nights.”

“Speed reading helps,” I said.

“You speed read.”

“I do.”

“And you’re good with numbers.”

“I’ve been told I’m one of the best,” I said.

“And you enjoy taxes.”

“I enjoy a range of functions with numbers. Being a tax expert of sorts allows me to leverage my abilities to get things I need.”

“Leverage, huh? What kind of leverage?” he asked.

“For example, a friend of mine the other day told the owner of a small shop that I could go over her taxes. In return, the shop owner had a favor to trade.”

“You use your tax skills to barter.”

“It’s a newfound talent, yes,” I said.

Why in the world did I not bring a hair tie with me?

“This meeting isn’t about the taxes,” Mr. Sheldon said. “Or anything else you might think.”

“Then, with all due respect, sir, why am I here?” I asked.

“I want to offer you a promotion.”

“A what?” I asked.

“A promotion. You have an incredible mind with a wonderful skill set this company could use, Miss Ternbeau. You’re wasted talent sitting in that cubicle.”

“Thank you, I think.”

“Will you accept the promotion?” he asked.

“What is it for, exactly?” I asked.

“It’s a new position we’re opening up. It’s one we’ve debated on advertising for a while, but it’s a very important position that requires a lot of secrecy.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I have a board of investors whose money is handled differently. The accounts are different, and the allocations of their investments and returns are different. Right now, all of Accounting is fielding those, and I don’t like that. Every other company has someone who solely deals with those accounts. They come with me to the board of investors meetings and work side-by-side with them to do things like plot out possible projections of return as well as draw up graphs of where their money will be allocated and why.”

“You want an Accounting Representative for your investors,” I said.

“I do. But all that information is sensitive. NDAs will have to be signed every time an investor, well, invests. This kind of money can’t be talked about. The investors don’t like that type of information showcased.”

“Is it common practice for people to try and do that?” I asked.

“You’d be surprised. But your response lets me know I’ve chosen the right person for the job, if you’ll accept.”

“I’d be honored, Mr. Sheldon.”

“Good. I’ll draw up the paperwork and have you come back up to sign them at the end of the day.”

“Is your end of the day the same as mine?” I asked.

Our eyes connected again, and my stomach clenched. I was trying to be playful. Show him a little more of me since we’d be working together more. I thought he might enjoy it, but the stern look in his eye made me nervous.

Until his cheeks ticked with a grin.

“I’ll make sure it is today,” Mr. Sheldon said. “But for now, you’re dismissed.”

I let go of the breath I was holding as I turned on my heels to leave. My hands were shaking with happiness, and my eyes were welling with tears. A promotion meant more money. And more money meant more ways to provide for my mother. Depending on what kind of salary hike came with a position like this, I could find myself a better place to live, somewhere in a safer part of Miami. Maybe a quaint place on top of a bakery or a coffeehouse.

“Oh, Miss Ternbeau?”

“Yes?” I asked.

“Your hair looks beautiful,” he said. “You made a good choice.”