Changing the bad boy

Chapter 2

VALERIE POV:

I met Barbara, the human resource representative, in the lobby of Cartwright & Sons Enterprises. She is waiting for me by the front desk, and I see the way she glances at the clock on the wall. I know it shows that it's 8:03 a.m. She purses her lips together but doesn't say anything about the fact that I'm three minutes late.

I consider apologizing, but before I get a chance, she forces a smile, and I don't know if I should be thankful or scared. And it's three minutes on my first day. They should give new employees some kind of leniency to find their way.

"Good morning, Barbara," I greet her instead of mentioning anything about this

"Good morning, Ms.

Valerie," she responds coldly, and I wonder if I should have called her by her last name. Maybe that's the custom at Cartwright & Sons Enterprises. It is an affluent and well-known real estate company, and I haven't exactly worked for a company like that before.

"Follow me," Barbara says and turns on her stiletto heels. Her perfectly styled bob doesn't even move as she swings around, and her heels click rapidly on the marble floor. She is probably a few years older than me, but she looks and acts a hell of a lot more put together than I ever will.

I hoist my bag higher on my shoulder and follow her. She nods her head to the people

we meet, but she doesn't

stop to chat or introduce me. I get some curious looks and smile back while I try my best to look more confident than I feel.

Barbara leads me to her modern office and gestures for me to sit in the uncomfortable-looking seat across from her white and chrome desk. So I do, and it's as uncomfortable as it looks. She goes through the details of what is expected of me as the new administrative assistant to the C-titles in the company. I've already received most of the information and studied it thoroughly, so I'm not surprised by anything she's telling me. It's the questioning look in her eyes that gets to me. Like she's wondering if I'll be able to handle the work despite her having a copy of my resume on the desk in front of her, and me having gone through several interviews at the temp agency to get this job.

It's intimidating and I think that's the entire purpose of her doing it. Like she's giving me one last chance to back out before she gets me a work badge and sends me up to the C-suite to meet the management of the company I'm supposed to be working for.

I swallow hard but keep eye contact. It's not like I have no idea what I'm doing. Have I embellished my resume? Yes, but I have a college degree and several years of experience working in an office setting. Granted,

none as affluent as this, and it's been a few years since I held a steady job-at least, one that did not include waiting tables-but I should be able to answer the phone and keep an organized schedule. I juggle my own chaotic life on a daily basis.

"Great," she says and gets to her feet. "Let's go."

I follow her like an obedient puppy, and we get my employee identification completed and finish all the required HR tasks. It takes over an hour, and then Barbara takes me to the elevator. I watch the numbers tick by until we reach the 13th floor-the top floor where all the executive offices are. We're greeted by a metal sign posted on a plain black wall that says C

Suites.

I've never been there before,despite having been to the company for my final interview, but I do my best not to appear as overwhelmed by the expensive style and design as I feel.

Barbara guides me over to an open reception area which is like a half circle with three white and chrome desks, similar to Barbara's, in-front of a flat wall on the right. Two of them are occupied by young and very beautiful women and I assume the last and empty desk will be mine.

The desks face the curved wall with contains five closed doors. I know they are the doors to the five chief offices, although I've never met any of them either. But the signs next to the doors clearly display who they belong to.Starting with the brothers,Andrew Cartwright as Chief Operating Officer,Preston Cartwright as Chief Financial Officer,Easton Cartwright as Chief Marketing Officer,Hayes Cartwright as Chief Information Officer, and ending with the father,Pierce Cartwright, as the Chief Executive Officer and President.

In all honesty, I don't know much about the company at all, or about the people who run it other than what I read n the pamphlets I got from HR. I'm too busy to keep up with the news outlets sasein re Rut mv boct

friend Fiona had a bit of a freak out session when I told her where I'd landed a job.

"Oh my god," she said.

"The Cartwright men are something else. Holy s**t,Val. There will be more arm candy there than at a hockey game."

"Hold your tongue," I told her,and she laughed,knowing my feelings about hockey and the men that played the sport.

"Seriously though,"she said,"the father is like a silver fox,and the sons..." She rolled her eyes and smacked her lips. "They're all eligible bachelors, and each one better looking than the next."

"Oh God," I had sighed. Justbwhat I needed, to keep tabs on all of their dates and the many events these men needed to attend. I could just imagine what the job would be like, but then again, I was used to babysitting, and for what they were paying me, I didn't much care what they wanted me to do.

"This is Lydia and Alana,"Barbara introduced me to the two women seated at the desks. "This is Valerie Vaughn."

I shake their hands and they smile and wish me welcome,but I can see the look they exchange when they think I'm not watching and I know they're judging me.

They can't be older than twenty-five, and from the way they look me over, they clearly expected their new coworker to be someone their age, not a thirty-five-year-old single mom.

"You have a meeting with Mr. Cartwright at ten,"Barbara informs me before she leaves.

"Okay." I assume she means Pierce Cartwright, but it could really be any one of them. But I don't ask her to clarify, and she doesn't bother to ask if I have any questions.

I let out a relieved exhale once the glass door closes after Barbara and look at the clock on the wall to see how much time I have. It's about ten minutes before the meeting.

"So, Valerie," Lydia says and steps up next to me. "This s your desk." She points to the only empty desk just in case I didn't get that one was mine.

"Great. Thanks."

She smiles broadly at me,displaying beautiful white teeth behind glossy red lips,and I'm not sure yet if she's sincere or just playing me.I'm also not sure if I care. I'm there to collect a paycheck,not to make friends.

"There's a kitchen at the end of the hall," she offers helpfully and points towards another door, but this one is half open. "There's storage space off to the side for bags and jackets and stuff,"she says, and I feel a bit self-conscious when her eves

land on my colorful lunch bag. I'd been so excited when I bought it, thinking how stylish I would look when I brought lunch to my new job. But standing there next to Lydia in her expensive looking clothes and perfect hair, I realize there is no way any of these people bring lunch.

"There's a bathroom in there too," Alana informs me from behind her stylish desk.

"Is there coffee in the kitchen?" I ask and feel hopeful for the first time since I got up that morning.I could definitely use a cup since I didn't have any yet.

Lydia's eye widens insurprise and Alana giggles.

"Of course. And cappuccino,esnresso lattes whatever you want."

And then it's my eyes that go wide. That's definitely a plus for the company.

"Would either of you like a cup?" I ask and look from one to the other.

"No, thank you," they both respond at the same time.

I find the storage space,but it's not what I expected and nothing like my last job. This storage area has two full-sized closets and lockers. It's more like a luxurious walk-in closet than a storage space.The bathroom next to it is even bigger. Much bigger than my small bathroom. It's probably bigger than my bedroom,and a hell of a lot more opulent than anything I'd ever seen. And the kitchen.Wow! Just wow. It's something else.

It looks like a luxurious residential kitchen with dark, sleek, cherry cabinets that go all the way to the ceiling and full-sized stainless steel appliances,including a stove and a dishwasher. The countertops are a gleaming marble,but my attention is on the coffee machine that I have absolutely no idea how to operate.

"Holy s**t," I mutter to myself as I searchthe cabinets for a cup. Everything in the space looks expensive, including the dark muted blue cups with Cartwright & Sons Enterprises in a gold foil.I select a one and make my way over to the intimidating machine. It reminds me more of some kind of spaceship model than a coffee pot. Like you need a science degree to operate it.

I have no idea how to even turn it on, and I really don't want to ask Alana or Lydia for help. They already look at me like I don't fit in.

The last thing I want to do is show them I can't even make myself a cup of coffee.That won't exactly instill confidence.

So, I give it a try and press several of the buttons with no luck.

"Stupid freaking machine,"I mutter to myself as I twist my head to get a closer look at the buttons.There are settings for everything: size, temperature, flavor,brew strength.

After a while,I hear someone clear their throat behind me.

I whip around to find none other than the obnoxious frat boy from the parking lot leaning up against the door frame with an amused grin on his face and a cup in his hand. He's even more striking up close without the sunglasses on, and that pisses me off.

"Um," I say and gesture widely towards the machine,hoping he'll show me how to operate it.

"It helps if you plug it in," he chuckles, and I feel my face grow hot at his arrogance and my stupidity. "Modern machines not your thing?"He asks and looks back at me with an amused grin.

I bite my bottom lip to keep from saying something I might regret. I don't know who the man is, but he's clearly a supervisor or some kind of manager, and I can't afford to make enemies.Especially not on my first day, so I roll with it and step to the side.

"Oh good, you've already met," a woman says from the door, and I turn around to find Alana standing there.

"Met who?" The man asks and looks from her to me.

"Your ten o'clock," Alana responds.

His eves widen in surnrise

"You're Valerie Vaughn," he asks and looks me slowly up and down like he didn't already see me, and it's clear he's judging more than what I'm wearing. I'm pretty sure he already did all that in the parking lot.

"Yes," I respond. "And you are?"

His eyes narrow into a scowl which looks out of place on his handsome face, but it kind of makes me feel better.

Alana snorts, but immediately clears her throat and says, "He's Preston Cartwright.Our

CFO."

Oh, no.

Fuck.