Chapter 13

Jeremy

“Today?” I glance down at the watch on my wrist. “You booked that meeting for today?”

Trent Morrison, the Brand Manager for Rizon, gives me a curt nod. “You said to set it up as soon as possible. I reached out to David last week and he blocked out two hours at three o’clock today.”

“As in forty-five minutes from now?”

I know he can hear the irritation in my voice. I don’t fucking care. I’ve had one issue after another thrown at me since I got to my office this morning. Having to abandon the fires that are already burning so I can trek across town to sit down with David Faye and his team isn’t part of my plan.

“You can’t reschedule?” I ask with a brisk brush of my hand in the air. “I’m up to my neck in bullshit today. Make it another day this week.”

“No can do,” he says cheerfully. “Faye is booked up solid for the next six weeks. You don’t want to know what I had to do to get this meeting.”

He’s right. I don’t want to know. I did tell him in no uncertain terms to get us some time over at Faye’s office and he delivered that.

It’s impressive given the tight time frame I gave him to make it happen.

I brought Trent on board a year ago when our last Brand Manager jumped ship and took on a prominent role at Estey Vodka. They’re our biggest competitor and slowly but surely they’ve been plucking away all of my valued employees, leaving me with no choice but to replace them with new hires.

Trent claims his strong suit is social media engagement. He’s offered no proof of that yet and with the vanilla vodka launch looming, I want more hands on deck, which is why I told him to call David Faye.

David’s name is gold in New York advertising. My first choice was Rocco’s brother, Nash. He’s done good work for me in the past but he just landed a high-profile tech client. He’s focused on the promotional campaign for the worldwide launch of a new smartphone and doesn’t have time to devote to Rizon.

My plan to build an in-house marketing team hasn’t happened yet. I make a mental note to put that at the top of my priority list once our new vodka hits the market.

“I can handle it on my own.” Trent makes himself at home by taking a seat in one of the chairs on the opposite side of my desk. “Send me over there by myself and I’ll come back with a kick ass advertising plan in place.”

Tension tightens my shoulders. “That’s not an option.”

His head pops up. There’s no surprise in his expression. He knows that I lack confidence in his abilities. I remind him often enough.

“You don’t need to be there, Jeremy,” he stresses as he adjusts the collar of his light blue suit jacket. Combined with his curly blond hair and freshly shaved jaw he looks like he just stepped off a college campus.

He’s my age, but you’d never know that by looking at him.

“This launch is huge.” He spreads his arms apart to reinforce his point. “We can’t skip this meeting and if you’re too tied down with other stuff, I’ll take the lead.”

“There’s no way in hell I’m sending you over there on your own.” I lean back in my chair. “I need to be there.”

I also need to meet with my lead attorney in ten minutes. I told him to get his ass down to my office for two-thirty sharp. I can’t blow him off.

I stand as a signal for Trent to leave. “I’ll meet you there.”

“We can ride over together in the company car.”

“The company car?” I knit my brow. “We don’t have a company car, Trent.”

“We don’t?” His gaze scans my face. “Blythe calls for the car whenever I need it.”

“She what?” I fist my hands by my sides. “What kind of car is it?”

“Cadillac,” he says confidently. “The driver’s name is Con.”

“As in I’m being conned into paying for your ass to get around Manhattan in a car?”

He laughs. “Conrad is the guy’s name.”

Conrad.

I scrub the back of my neck with my hand. “Get yourself a MetroCard. You can expense the cost. Your free ride is officially over.”

“Seriously?” His brows shoot up. “You want me to take the subway today?”

“Unless you’d prefer to run.” I point to my office door. “You need to be uptown in thirty-five minutes. Get moving.”

“Unbelievable,” he mutters under his breath as he opens the door and walks out.

“Blythe,” I yell her name through the open doorway. “I need you in here now.”

I watch as she lazily closes the distance from her desk to my office doorway. I wait until she’s stepped over the threshold before I say another word.

“Shut the door behind you.”

She gives it a push with her foot sending it slamming shut. “I pissed you off again, didn’t I?”

I stare down at her. She’s wearing a yellow dress with white polka dots. The woman has no shame when it comes to her wardrobe choices. “What’s your grandson been up to lately?”

She looks at me. “Conrad?”

Nodding silently, I shrug into my black suit jacket.

“Oh, you know,” she pauses. “Con is always doing a little of this and a little of that.”

That’s the main reason why I didn’t hire him when he applied for a junior position in accounting a year ago. He may have finished college with a degree, but his head is in the clouds.

I turned him down, listened to Blythe bitch about it for a month and then forgot the guy even existed, until now.

“From what I hear he’s doing a lot of driving for Rizon.” With a sigh, I look toward the door. “That stops today.”

“You know?” There’s a hint of resignation in her voice. “You told me I could do whatever was necessary to keep things running smoothly. Con’s an Uber driver. There are places our people need to be. It seemed like a great idea at the time.”

“People?” I glance at the clock on my wall. My attorney should be outside my door in less than a minute if he’s still as punctual as I remember. “I know about Trent. Who else was getting a free ride?”

Her gaze drops to the floor. “Me.”

“You?”

She nods slowly. “I only did it a few times last winter when we were hit with those storms. I didn’t think my arthritic knees would make it through the snow to the subway stop, so I called Con.”

I should fire her, but I won’t. I can’t. I’m holding onto her until she decides she’s done with the job.

“Trent’s not getting in Con’s Cadillac again.” I cross my arms. “If you need him to drive you to work and back home, we can set something up. That arrangement only applies to you.”

“Are you serious?” She reaches toward me but stops herself. “I thought you were going to fire me.”

I contain a smile. “I should. No one else would get away with the shit you pull, Blythe.”

“I’ll behave,” she lies.

I laugh. “You won’t. Get back to your desk. My attorney should be out there looking for me by now.”

“Thanks, boss.” She grins. “I know you’ll never admit it, but your heart is made of gold.”

I drop my gaze to the floor.

She knows what to do. She leaves my office, softly shutting the door behind her as I ready myself before I face my attorney and an issue I’ve pushed to the side for far too long.