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thought that was pretty damned note-worthy, and if that couldn’t get me down, then by God, I wasn’t going to let anything get me down.
    Or so I thought—until I answered my desk phone’s ring.
    “Can you get in here?” Derek asked as I held the phone close to my ear.
    I knew that I shouldn’t have answered the phone.
    I sighed, and immediately—once again—my eyes shot to the back of my head in an annoyed and frustrated roll. He was harping on the buzz and annoying the absolute piss out of me with his demands.
    “Or is that too much of an inconvenience for you?” he continued with harshness in his tone. “If you don’t think you can do your job, then maybe you should head out the front door and I can find someone that can.”
    What the hell?
    My eyes widened. Why was he being such a colossal dick? I mean, sure he was always a colossal dick, but never that much of one. He had never questioned my work abilities before, and he certainly never treated me that poorly. I mean, sure, he was always a bit of a jackass, but not that much of an asshole.
    I shoved myself up off my cubicle desk and clanked my feet roughly and angrily on the carpet as I walked. Everyone around knew that I was pissed, and I hoped he did too.
    “What do you need , Mr. Sholts?” The words were friendly enough, but the tone was far from it. And I meant for it to be that way.
    “I need you to go meet with Mr. Darango.”
    Mr. Darango was one of his investors, one of his biggest investors.
    “Why?” I asked.
    “He seems to be a little iffy about the next few steps we’re taking in the company, and I want you to reassure him that his money is as safe as ever—if not safer.”
    “And how would you like me to do that?” It was his sales coordinator’s job to keep investors interested, not really mine.
    “Be a public relations officer, for one. It’s your job to make me look good.” He was stern, and a little huffy in his response, and to be honest, I was a little taken aback. It was true that my job was to make him look good, but that was more to the public than to investors directly. Sure, some PR reps did that, but I hadn’t since beginning my job. He usually wanted Frank to handle all that mumbo jumbo. He trusted Frank a lot more than he seemed to trust me.
    Hell, he had downgraded me to his assistant for the most part.
    But—as always—I did what he wanted. No matter how badly I wanted to argue, no matter how badly I wanted to object.
    He was the boss after all.

Chapter 8
 
    “W here’s Frank?” Mr. Darango asked as I approached, folders tucked beneath my arm as I walked towards him. “Not that I’m not pleased to see you.”
    Derek had set up the meeting at a nearby bistro so that we could discuss investment opportunities. It was nice. Definitely out of my budget. As soon as I walked in, a lady checked my coat—and that was something that I had never quite experienced before.
    The only place my family ever took us out to eat was the local diner or a buffet somewhere.
    I had never been to a place with valet parking and coat checks.
    “I’m Ms. Zoe Shadrick, Mr. Darango.” I extended my hand. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
    I was nervous, and I could only hope that it wasn’t too ridiculously obvious. His handshake was firm, but gentle, and I knew that was because I was a lady, but my daddy always said to shake hands like a man—even if you were a lady. And that’s exactly what I did.
    “Nice grip you have there,” the man mused, and I could do nothing but smile in response.
    “Are you the new sales coordinator?” he asked and laughed. I could tell he wasn’t laughing at me though. He seemed more amused by the fact that he didn’t have to face Frank, and I couldn’t say I entirely blamed him. Just like Derek, Frank left a lot to be desired. “I already like you more than Frank. Not only because you’re prettier.”
    “Thank you,” I said as he gestured for me to sit in a nearby chair.
    He had already