He mimicked my sigh. We’d spoken a few sentences, but I had a feeling I had met my match. “So there’s no temptation,” he said.
Flashing my left hand in front of him, I waited for him to take note of the ring on a certain important finger. “In case India forgot to mention it, I’m engaged. So there’ll be no temptation whatsoever.”
Anton studied the ring for another moment before he smiled broadly. “Forbidden fruit. Wanting what a man can’t have. I don’t think that worked out so well for Adam and the whole fall-of-man thing.” His smile pulled higher as he waited for me to reply. He was enjoying this banter.
Since it was my first day on the job, I decided to bite back what I wanted to say to him.
“Anytime you’re ready to tell me what I’m here to actually do . . .” I said, gesturing at my desk and computer. “I didn’t get all dressed up for nothing.”
“No.” Anton chuckled, coming around the side of my desk. “You certainly didn’t.” Continuing past the desk, he opened the door to his office and sauntered in. When he got to his desk, he glanced back at me where I hovered at the door. “Anytime you’re ready for me to tell you what you’re actually here to do . . .” He gestured at the chair in front of his desk and waited.
“I didn’t realize we were playing tag,” I muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.
He smiled and fired up his laptop.
Anton’s office was posh—if you were into the modern twist on 1960s cool. Like India had said, it was a scene pulled from Mad Men, right down to the fancy crystal bottles of liquor displayed on a shelf behind his desk. Like his little sister, Anton had expensive taste.
I took a seat in the chair across from him and waited.
“Do you know much about what we do here in this office?” he asked, his eyes fixed on his laptop, all business. He could flip the on and off mood switch as fast as I could.
Should I have done research? It was too late now.
“Nope.” Super. Real intelligent-sounding, Lucy.
“I love an honest woman,” he said, his eyes flicking to me. “And one who isn’t ashamed about it.”
From business to banter in two seconds’ time. Anton was going to keep me guessing. “And I love a man who gets to the point,” I said, “sometime today.”
Getting back to his laptop, he started typing. “Here’s the quick rundown on Xavier Industries’ White Plains branch,” he said, typing furiously. His fingers were almost a blur over that keyboard. “We’re a customer-support call center here. We have twenty employees and triage close to eight hundred calls a day.”
“A call center?” I was confused. “Xavier Industries is a board game development company, right?” I could have sworn that was what Indie said.
“That’s right, but developing, distributing, and selling the board games is only half the battle. The other half is keeping those retailers and customers happy.” His war with the keyboard came to an end. Punching one final key, he leaned back in his high-backed leather chair.
Thank the heavens I wasn’t majoring in business, because this made no sense to me. “Happy? Isn’t that the reason they’re buying one of the games? So they’ll be . . . happy?”
“Yes, happiness is definitely a desired side effect. However, humans as a species have this need to report or review or vent or share their opinion to someone who cares.” He waved his hands before folding them over his desk. “That’s what we’re here for.”
“To care?”
Anton looked at me like my confusion was cute. “To pretend to care.”
“Oh-kay,” I said, shifting in my seat. I understood why so many politicians came from business backgrounds. They’d been bullshitting their way to the top for decades. “And my job is to pretend to care?”
“No, you won’t be taking any of the customer calls. You’re working for me.” He leaned forward. “So your job is to enthusiastically care.”
The more he said, the farther down the rabbit hole I fell.
“Can you define ‘care’ in basic job duties?” I asked. “Like sharpening pencils, making copies, that sort of thing?”
Sliding a drawer of his desk open, Anton dropped a thick folder in front of me. “For starters, I’d like you to go through these call sheets and make note of how long each call lasted, along with how many minutes the caller had to wait on hold before reaching an associate.”
I gawked at the folder—it was larger than any college textbook I’d ever seen. “Is this supposed to take me all summer?”
That slow smile of Anton’s slid back into place. “I’ll give you until lunch.”
I was earning my pay here at XI.
I’d been sure I’d been on the receiving end of a good deal, but I realized by lunchtime that it was Anton who’d been on the better receiving end.
I didn’t know how I did it, or who’d slowed time down in order for me to get it done, but I was on my last sheet of that dictionary-size folder when Anton’s door whooshed open.
“Lunchtime,” he announced, sliding into his jacket that had just enough sheen to it for me to know it had cost a small fortune.
Glancing at the time on my computer, I felt my eyes bulge. It was almost one o’clock. “Oh, man. I’m sorry, Anton. I got so caught up in this project that I didn’t even realize what time it was,” I said, spinning in my chair to face him. “What do you normally get for lunch? I’ll run out and grab it right now.”
His eyebrows knitted together like he was insulted. “If India found out I’d reduced you, in any way, shape, or form, to a glorified coffee runner, she’d skin me and leave me in the woods for the bears.”
I capped my pen and dropped it back into the holder. “And if you ever give me another project like that and expect me to finish it before the year is up, I might just do the same to you.” I smiled sweetly.
“Have you talked to all your bosses like this?” he asked, leaning into my desk.
I raised an eyebrow. “Only the ones who deserved it.”
Shaking his head, Anton motioned for the door. “Come on. Time for lunch.”
“Huh?” Another brilliant gem from the mouth of Lucy Larson.
“Food. Sustenance. You. Me.” He motioned to the door again. “Now.”
Two things stopped me short from accepting Anton’s invitation right then. The first being Jude. And the second being Jude. He was about as territorial as I was, and I knew I wouldn’t have been okay with another woman taking him to lunch on a whim.
“I think I’ll stay and finish this up,” I lied. “I brought a snack with me.”
“Enough with the protesting already. You’ve put up a good fight, but it’s useless, because I always get what I want.” Anton’s eyes gleamed, while I felt my temper switch begging to be flipped. “Plus, it’s a company tradition passed down from my dad. Rule number two in the business world: You always take an employee out to lunch on their first day. That’s just good business.”
There’d been a lot of times in my life when I’d felt like an idiot. This being one of those times. Hoping Anton didn’t think I was acting like too much of a nut, I slid back into my heels and stood up.
“Far be it from me to stand in the way of time-honored traditions and good business,” I said, grabbing my purse before coming around the desk.
Anton had the door open and was waiting. Almost everyone in cubicle city was back from lunch, and just like this morning, whenever I’d looked up from my heap of paperwork, they were watching me.
Staring was perhaps the better word.
“I’ll have my cell if anyone needs to get hold of me,” Anton announced before closing the door behind us. “Don’t worry. They’ll get used to you in a few days.”
I followed him toward the elevator. “What will they get used to?” I hadn’t been aware I was something or someone who required getting used to.
“They’re a bit starstruck. It’s not every day you get to work in a call center with a girl who’s with one of the most talked-about NFL quarterbacks, and one who was just photographed nak—”