EIGHT YEARS LATER
1.
ELIZABETH
“Tell me why I’m going to this stupid mixer again.” I peeked out from behind my office door and groaned at my overly busty assistant, Barbara.
No matter what she wore to work each day, nothing could hide those double Ds from attempting to spill out. I respected her for trying though.
Shaking her gorgeous head of dark hair, she turned to me and answered, “Because you’re successful, and they invited you.”
Barbara was sassy and smart—two of the reasons I’d hired her to be my assistant in the first place. I needed a strong woman who wouldn’t be intimidated by or scared of me. And trust me, those qualities in a fellow female were hard to come by, especially when you were this young; and the boss. Which I was.
Barbara had been with me for over two years now, and we’d built an honest friendship around our working one. I couldn’t be more thankful to have someone like her on my side. Being that I didn’t have much time for a social life outside of work, I was extra grateful for her.
And I trusted her, which spoke volumes. In an industry where it was hard to count on pretty much anyone, I counted on her. I knew implicitly that she wouldn’t throw me under the bus to get ahead. Barbara was what we in the business liked to call a lifer. She wanted to be an executive assistant, and she had no aspirations to climb the corporate ladder any higher, which was good news for me.
Barbara loved working for me, and I loved having her here. My office life would seem to fall completely the fuck apart whenever she wasn’t around. That was a sign of a truly great assistant—realizing my workdays wouldn’t really work without her.
I rolled my eyes. “Ugh. You know how much I hate these things.” I ran my fingers through my dirty-blonde hair and pulled pieces of it across my face before letting it go and repeating the gesture. It was an old habit I’d never grown out of.
“Maybe you’ll meet someone,” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows at me.
“Oh, yeah, that’s exactly what I need—a man in my life.” I paused as I glanced down toward the floor. “No, thank you. This studio has more than enough testosterone for me.”
“Well, in case you change your mind, I put together profiles of everyone who will be in attendance tonight. Nothing major, just headshots and company information, so you can make your speech more personal to the group,” she said with a smile.
“I don’t deserve you.” I shook my head, grateful for her proactive ways.
With a wave of her hand, she giggled. “Just go and pretend you’re honored to be there.”
“Oh, I’m honored all right,” I said with mocked enthusiasm.
She flipped through the pages in her hands. “Daniel Alexander looks hot. Make sure you talk to him.”
I choked out a laugh. “Daniel Alexander, huh? Gotta love a guy with two first names.”
“Don’t hate. Procreate. He could have two heads for all I care—as long as they both look like this one.”
She shoved a picture of him in front of my face, and even I had to admit that the guy was gorgeous. His dark hair looked perfectly styled, and I could tell that his eyes were light in color, even in the black-and-white photo. Stubble lined his chiseled chin. If I had a type anymore, which I wasn’t certain that I did, this guy would be it.
“I should just send you in my place. Then, you could talk to this guy all night long.”
“Don’t think I haven’t thought about it,” she sassed.
I turned back into my office and groaned inwardly before sitting back down at my desk.
I clicked on my calendar for the day and noted the large chunk of time blocked out for the Top Thirty Under Thirty mixer later that evening. Could they really not come up with a better, more creative name for this thing? It sounded like a countdown show.
Being the youngest development executive in the history of the movie studio where I worked came with a lot of additional events I was required to attend. Apparently, my age and title were a big deal, but I honestly didn’t care—no, scratch that. I absolutely fucking cared, but it wasn’t in the same way that other people seemed to.
They only cared about my age and my gender. Rarely would my name be brought up in conversation without those two aspects being mentioned close behind. It was as if that was all that truly mattered or all that I was. I realized this was a male-dominated industry and that my company had been run by men since its inception over seventy-five years ago. So, what happened with me seemed to be on the rare side, but the truth was, women had been making a name for themselves for years now, and I wanted to be one of them. I didn’t want to be known as the youngest female of anything. I wanted to be known as the best.
“Your driver will be here in thirty minutes. There’s a traffic accident on the four-oh-five, so you should advise him to take the one-seventy instead and get off on Sherman.”
I looked up to see my assistant’s face as she placed a large manila envelope in front of me.
“Could you be more awesome?”
“Probably not. The company jet is fueled and prepped at Van Nuys. You fly into SFO and back again at your leisure. Just call the car and let them know when you’ve taken off. They will be waiting for you when you land. I’ll see you bright and early in the morning unless,”—she paused—“Heaven forbid, you have any fun, and I don’t know maybe skip your return flight.”
“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” I shuffled through the loose papers on my desk, trying to coherently organize them. “You just want a day off.”
“Are you kidding me? If you didn’t show up, I’d have to reschedule every single meeting you have tomorrow, and those took me at least two months to schedule in the first place. So, please, Elizabeth, don’t show up because you know how much I love doing the same work twice.”
“You’re a brat.”
“I know, but I’m your brat. Have fun. Tell Daniel I said hi.” She blew me a kiss as she walked out of my door.
“Who?”
“Read the profiles!” she shouted.