The Roosevelt room was packed with suits when we filtered in. Still, a few heads turned to look. Probably because this meeting—like all of them—was a sausagefest. And this one was standing dicks only.

We slid into an empty space in the corner, trying to fly under the radar of the thick-built man with a bald patch who was addressing the room.

“Mr. Clean over there? That’s the new CEO,” I murmured. “Tanner Redpath. He runs ultra-marathons or something. He’s a turnaround guy, which means he helicopters in when someone else fucks up and puts a company back on the straight and narrow. He started after they took the last one away in handcuffs.”

“I’m looking forward to getting to know each of you. But I’m not here to talk about me.” Redpath’s voice was low but throaty, like he’d been shouting the night before. “I was appointed by the board for a reason. We must look forward and transform this organization into one the public can trust. The hit our share price took after the departure of Mr. Hollister and the media backlash cannot happen again.

“We’re rebuilding this bank stronger and better than ever. I’m appointing leaders in each department who will be the face of this transformation. For corporate banking, that will be Mr. Banks.”

I expected the man approaching the head of the table to be Armand Banks, New Girl’s dickhead boss. The senior director with wandering eyes also had about thirty years too many to be looking at any of the assistants like that.

But the man who sucked the air from the room wasn’t Armand. They might’ve shared a family name, but this one was younger, with dirty blond hair instead of gray.

Plus broad shoulders.

Abs you could bounce an iPhone on.

A tailored charcoal suit that skimmed his body in a way that made you instantly sure he’d look even better out of it.

“Oh my God. That’s him,” Rose murmured excitedly. “Mr. July.” I glanced at her hand that clutched my arm.

“Thank you, Mr. Redpath.” Avery Banks’ voice, low, confident, echoed off the walls.

The new CEO shook his hand and slipped out of the meeting. Avery watched Redpath go before turning back to us. He stood, hands clasped behind his back and that tic in his jaw that meant he wanted to find someone and hang them from the ceiling by their toes.

“We have a problem.” Avery’s low voice echoed off the walls, including the glass one separating the room from the hall. “You might be thinking that it’s Mr. Hollister’s problem. That our former chief executive made a misguided decision and is now facing the consequences.”

A few heads nodded.

“You’re wrong. Because what started as Hollister’s problem is now your problem. Everyone from investors to clients is looking at us like we’re a pariah. They’re taking their money and running. Fast.

“At the request of Mr. Redpath, I will be working with the small and medium business banking group to communicate our vision of the future. A future of transparency and authenticity.”

He didn’t sound happy about it. In fact, he sounded like this problem had crawled up his ass and hosted a children’s birthday party, complete with piñata.

“Whether you’re an associate or support staff, if this department’s new business numbers fall by a single percent, we’ll start losing you. I don’t care how long you’ve been here. Or what you do. It’s time for everyone to take responsibility. Your kids, your hamsters, your vacations? All of it comes second. Starting now.”

My boss, ladies and gentlemen. The face of an angel. The body of a god.

The charm of venereal disease.

I glanced over at New Girl. Her eyes were glazed over like Avery had just finished rescuing an orphan from a tree. Shirtless.

I held in an eye roll.

In case you’re wondering how it’s possible to have a mini-O looking at the man while he’s threatening to cut loose the entire department? Let me lay it out for you.

Avery Banks won the genetic lottery, with shampoo commercial hair, big hands, a straight nose, and a mouth that’s firm in all variations of frowning and pursed (its only tricks). Add to that a tall frame he’s trained into broad shoulders, narrow hips, and a six pack I’d only seen in the photos we swiped for the calendar?

He’s got the goods. But that’s only skin deep.

Pretty boys aren’t dangerous unless they come with brains to match the brawn. The ones who do…they know it. They use it.

“Now, if there are no questions—” Avery didn’t pause to see if there were “—let’s get back to work and prove why we’re here.”

“Wow,” Rose offered as we filtered out. “He’s really inspiring.”

I snorted. “Were we in the same room?”

“Yes. He has that commanding leadership thing going on. Plus, he looks even better in real life than he does in that calendar.”

I cornered her. “No one finds out about that. There’s a vow between the assistants on seven and eight.” My gaze ran over her pale skin. “We’ll skip the blood oath today. You’re new, and you don’t look like you’d clot.”

Her eyes were the size of the cinnamon buns in the bakery down the street.

By the time I started for the door, most of the room had cleared. She fell into step next to me. “Are you worried about all that stuff? It did sound like a state of emergency.”

“Everything’s an emergency. Printer toner gets two bucks more expensive. Someone forgets to refill the stash of coffee filters in the kitchen. Walgreens runs out of that hair wax the associates like.” I paused at her cubicle, leaning over the top and ignoring the flow of traffic behind us. “You want staying power? You become a cat, New Girl. I have nine lives. Arrogant dicks come and go. What stays the same is me, because I’m a survivor.

“Alliance might look like any other bank. But it has its own culture and subculture, a set of rules that aren't written in any book. Like high school. Or Wentworth. If Redpath is anything like Hollister, he won’t bother to learn anyone’s name. Next are the VPs. They’re almost as AWOL. The men who really run the ship are the directors. And I mean the ‘men.’ Of the twelve directors, two are chicks. Of the ten left, most of them are dicks. Yes, that includes your boss—who’s my boss’s uncle.”

“Thanks for the orientation,” she said, blinking.

“Sure. And hey. No matter what they say to you? Keep your chin up.”

I’d been trying to tip the balance in this place, but I was starting to think it might take more than my working life to make a dent in the ceiling.

(Not including the leaky skylight. Squish, squish.)

I left Rose at her desk and walked the perimeter of the hive, the set of a dozenish cubicles that took up the open space on our floor. A few people glanced up and nodded to me.

I picked up my mail at the mailbox in the corner of the office. A bunch of inter-office memos.

Plus a pale blue envelope.

My heart stopped as I stared at the delicate paper. I didn’t need to open it or look at the return address to know what it was.

I blew out a long breath, willing my stomach to settle.

I’ll deal with this later.

When I rounded the corner of my cubicle, my chair was already occupied.

Long, muscled legs extended in front of him. His hands were clasped loosely at his front. Hard, cold eyes glinted like diamonds out of a razor-sharp face.

Avery Banks might be built like an athlete, but if I learned he played a team sport, I’d die of shock. He’s the Yoko of our entire office.

“This seat taken? Don’t let me interrupt.”

“Don’t even think about walking away.”

I set the stack of mail on the desk in front of him.

He rose, stepping closer to tower over me even in my heels. The sharp expression on his face was different from the one he’d had in the conference room because it was leveled at me. The look of disdain was for my benefit alone.

“You were late for this department’s first interaction with our new CEO.”

“I made it in time for your remarks. Which was my top priority.”

The sincere-o-meter in my head lit up like Boston Harbor on the Fourth of July, but a muscle in his right-angle jaw ticked.

“Avery.” Both our heads snapped around as Redpath approached.

My boss straightened automatically. “Sir.”

“I enjoyed our meeting. Wish I could’ve stayed. Look forward to seeing your progress and continuing to talk about that opportunity at your performance review next month.”

“Of course.”

Redpath smiled, nodding to Avery and me before turning to leave.

“Why are you staring at my nose?” Avery demanded when Redpath had gone.

“I thought there was something on it...” I couldn’t resist reaching toward Avery’s face, but he swatted my finger out of the air.

The noise in his throat was more of a growl than a word. “My office. Now.”

I liked the growl, I decided as I followed him toward his office, my four-inch heels letting me keep up.

I pulled the door shut after me and watched him cross to his chair.

Here’s the thing. As much as Avery and I get along like red wine and Tide-to-Go? Working for this man didn’t one hundred percent suck.

Avery Banks was the hottest piece of ass to ever walk the halls of this hundred-year-old building.

But he was also not entirely without positive attributes. He went after what he wanted, even if he did it in the wrong way. When you talked to him, his attention was so intense, like he wanted to soak up every word and every scrap of body language from your conversation that might help him. Plus his mind worked at light speed. It wasn’t always clear what it was working on, but you could tell it was working on something.

Still, he might as well have had “not my type” tattooed over every inch of his muscled body. If there was one thing I couldn’t stand, it was condescension. No—narrow mindedness. Or maybe a painfully lacking sense of humor.

If it wasn’t for The Tie, I’d have written him off entirely.

The purple one that was more like lavender. It shouldn’t have looked good on a man, but it made him look like a prince. When he kept his mouth shut for more than two seconds, I started to imagine he was misunderstood, not an asshole.

The Tie nearly always came with the grey suit. Together, it was a cannon to the lady parts.

Thank God I’d never seen him in black tie. Avery in a tux might have made me melt from hotness overload. But I’d run out of the room first, because damn if I’d ever give him the satisfaction.

He wasn’t wearing The Tie today. This one was coral, which still gave him serious style points. It also made his eyes look wicked blue.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

His voice jolted me back to the present. I bit my lip. “Trying to decide what to get Redpath for his birthday? I hear he loves Castle and long walks on the beach.”

Avery’s eyes flashed. “This is not about Redpath. It’s about you.”

He steepled his hands in front of him.

“I know what you’ve been doing, Charlotte. And you are in a shit ton of trouble.”