Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
He’s shaking his head, not close to being convinced. I know this is my last chance to convince him. It’s not like I can start every morning like this, pleading for him to fake propose.
“And on top of that, I’m solving two problems for you. You like to take a backseat as far as The Mayfair is concerned, I get that.” It was one of the first things that struck me when I started working for Leo: he has little to no interest in the hotel. I always wondered how Louis got away with being so shit at his job—and having worked for Leo, now I know. Louis had no one holding him accountable and wasn’t enough of a self-starter to do it for himself. “But like it or not, your manager just resigned and you’re going to have to do something about it.” I hold my hands out. “Ta-dah,” I sing. “Here I am. Problem number one solved. No résumés to look through. No interviews, no dealing with recruiters trying to sell you their candidates. Here I am, tons of experience. I’ve fallen into your lap.”
He draws in a breath but doesn’t interrupt, and I take it as an invitation to go on.
“And you need a fiancée for your awards ceremony thing. Guess what?” I ask. “Ta-dah!” I sing again. “We’ve worked together for long enough that the origin story of our relationship would be totally believable. I won’t embarrass you, I can hold my own at the event, and despite previous evidence to the contrary, I can actually present myself with a bit of polish. Here I am. Problem number two solved.” I put my hand on my hip. “I’m really starting to wonder where my award is for Assistant of the Year.”
He chuckles. I think it’s the first time we’ve ever interacted for this long, other than our first meeting. But considering only one of us remembers that night…
“Look, Jules,” he says, and his tone is mournful. I can tell he’s not excited to start executing my brilliant plan.
“No,” I say. “Don’t say no. Think about it. It’s the least you can do. Give it twenty-four hours to marinate. I don’t want you to wake up when I get a job at a rival hotel and you’re assistant-less, Mayfair manager-less, and fiancée-less, and wonder if you should have taken longer to decide.”
He sighs. “So now you’re adding blackmail to the mix?” He must see the confusion on my face, as he lifts his chin and says, “You’re going to resign if I don’t say yes?”
My shoulders drop. “It’s not blackmail exactly.”
“Then what exactly is it?”
He’s asking me to be honest with him, and I owe him that. The reality of the situation is that I’m going to leave this job over the next few months anyway.
“I took this job because I was frustrated with Louis and I didn’t understand why he was getting away with being so… underwhelming.”
“You took this job because you hated Louis? I’m confused. What does that even mean?”
I sigh, shifting my weight from foot to foot. “I wanted to be your assistant to prove to you how reliable I am. Show how trustworthy and capable I am. And then… show you my résumé and try to convince you to give me Louis’ job.”
His expression turns dark, and I stifle a shiver.
“I don’t like the idea that I’ve been in the dark about this grand plan of yours, Jules.”
“I know. I just wanted a chance to… to get ahead. I don’t have a college degree. I haven’t studied hospitality and hotel management. What I know is from being on the ground since I left school. I knew if I sent in my résumé, you wouldn’t look twice at someone like me. And before you object, you should know that I did send my résumé. Multiple times. You or HR or whoever reviews résumés around here never gave me the time of day, because what I can bring to The Mayfair doesn’t translate well on paper. But I know that I’d be good for the place. My mom worked there since I was in junior high until she retired last year. It feels like home. And I just want it… I want it to be better.”
He’s right to be annoyed. But I haven’t been trying to deceive him in a bad way. It was for his benefit too, because he’d have a better-managed hotel.
I’m interrupted by a knock on the open door.
I turn and it’s Colin, ready for his 9 a.m. meeting. My heart deflates like an untied balloon. I shot my shot. And the bullet went right through my foot.
“Can I get you a coffee, Leo?”
He doesn’t look at me as he shakes his head and begins his meeting with Colin. I retreat and close the door. The first thing I do is kick off my killer heels. At least I don’t have to spend the day wearing them. What would be the point?