After embellishing her resume, Valerie-a single mom-lands a job as an administrative assistant to the hottest, most entitled and obnoxious man she's ever met: Preston Cartwright, the CFO of the prestigious Cartwright & Sons Enterprises.
Several yea...
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Preston Cartwright. Of course, that had to be him. The man that was better looking than anyone should be, and the one that had already managed to irritate me multiple times in one day. And of course, he'd have a preppy ass name to go along with everything else about him that screamed money and entitlement. And he couldn't just be a manager of some sort. He had to be the freaking CFO. The one I had a meeting scheduled with, and one of the people I'm here to support.
Wonderful.
He reminds me of a spoiled frat boy, and I wonder how old he is and if he's truly capable of handling all the financials for the Cartwright empire, or if he's just gotten the job because his daddy owns the company.
Alana snickers as she walks back to her desk while I stand there, like a fool, watching Preston freaking Cartwright pull a freshly brewed cup of coffee away from the coffee machine I still don't know how to work. I'm too shocked to move, so I don't do anything until I smell the freshly brewed coffee.
"Oh," I say and inhale the delicious aroma.
Preston takes a sip from the steaming cup. My mouth is watering. It smells heavenly and I can't wait to finally, finally have some. I take a step towards the machine when he barks, "Let's go."
Seriously?
He deliberately ignores my questioning expression and strides confidently towards the hallway, in a way that he just knows that I will follow because there is no other option.
I squeeze my hands at my sides and give the coffee machine one last longing glance before I turn around and follow him over to his office. Knowing I have a piece of shit car that needs fixing, and I'm in desperate need of groceries, I bite down on my tongue until I taste the coppery flavor of my own blood. I can't lose this job before it's barely even started.
Preston sits down behind his desk, and I sit down in a chair across from it. As I do, I check out his office. It is not what I expected. I assumed there would be a lot of chrome and blacks, similar to Barbara's office, but in a masculine bachelor kind of theme, but there isn't.
The room is large, but not as big as I thought it would be. It's more intimate in a way. Maybe to give the illusion of a friendly atmosphere. I force myself to hold back a snicker because again; I need the job, but it seems to be far from the truth. Preston Cartwright is not very friendly. He is, however, gorgeous, and I can image the hordes of women that want to get intimate with him in his office. Or anywhere, really.
The desk looks like it's made of reclaimed barn wood. It's thick and long and based on the home improvement shows I used to watch when I had time, I believe it's very, very expensive.
Preston has it set up so that his back is against a wall of bookcases made from the same reclaimed wood, which gives him a side view of the downtown area through several large windows and a view of his office door. Behind where I'm sitting is a couch in a soft brown leather and two wingback chairs. I hate to admit it, but Preston Cartwright has style.
