Page 143 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
That is so fucked.I stood abruptly, sending my chair backward, and started to pace Eric’s office, trying not to bump into the sharp glass edges of his coffee tables. I gripped my forehead in frustration.Since when does merit not determine the right person for the job?
“Just like that, someone is hired from the outside because they have a vagina? I’ve worked my ass off for this company, and I actually love my job, Eric. I love coming in every day and finding a solution to our clients’ needs. It’s like a puzzle I get to solve on a daily basis. I’ve always seen myself grow in this position, and under your leadership, I knew there would be opportunity, but apparently not.” I pulled on my hair, and under my breath, I mumbled, “Fuck.”
Right now, I made good money, but living in New York City, to help Rosie reach her dreams, I needed to bring in more money. This could have the way to achieve that, but now it wasn't even a possibility. How wrong was that?
“You done?” Eric asked, glaring at me to know my place. Quickly grabbing my turned-over chair, I sat down and gave my attention to Eric. “Like I was saying, the board is bringing in an outside hire to test her skills and abilities within our industry. She doesn’t have the job yet; it’s between you and her.”
So . . . my dreamsweren’tsquashed just yet?
“The board decided to see who could come up with the best marketing and advertising campaign for a client who’s been shopping around.”
“The Legacy account?” I asked, knowing exactly who he was talking about.
The Legacy account was a multi-million-dollar contract floating around the industry, waiting to be picked up, wined, and dined. As a prodigious client, they could take their time and flaunt their business in different firms’ faces to see what they had to offer. This would be the biggest client I’d ever worked for. Knowing that Legacy was looking to market their new condom line, I was confident I could nail this. I used their condoms at least twice a day. I should actually buy stock in their condoms, thanks to Rosie’s inability to stay away from my dick.Not braggin’ here, folks. Just facts.
A knowing smile crossed Eric’s lips. “Yes, the Legacy account.”
“I know condoms. Use them almost every day.” The minute the sentence slipped out of my mouth, I regretted it; that wasn’t the most professional thing to say. “Um, retract that statement, I don’t want to sound like Freddy.”
Eric laughed and shook his head. “No one does.” Eric sat up in his chair and leaned over his desk so he was closer when he spoke to me. “I want you in the office next to mine, Henry. You’ve earned the right to this position; don’t let me down.”
“I won’t,” I answered him. “When does the new hire come in?”
“Friday, and so does the board. They will be laying out the terms. You have two days to prepare yourself, because once they introduce the project, your life is going to be flipped upside down for the next couple of weeks.”
“I’m on it.” Standing, I shook Eric’s hand and then left his office, fire building inside me.
This job was mine. Once I was named Director of Social Media Marketing, I would be getting down on one knee and proposing to Rosie, changing our lives forever. Nothing would stand in my way. I was bound and determined to make that woman mine.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lucifer
ROSIE
Scanning the lobby, I quickly made sure Phillip was nowhere to be found before I sprinted to the elevator, pressed the button to my floor, and then repeatedly pushed the close-door button until the elevator shut—a daily ritual now.
Who’s Phillip?
Does this ring a bell? “Whoever smelt it, dealt it?”
Yes, Phillip was the man who owned the face I’d farted on. Ever since that horrific gaseous mishap, I’d made it a mission to never share an elevator ride with him again.
I’d done pretty well except for one day, one dreadful Wednesday.
It was raining and I’d forgotten my umbrella, therefore, my hair was soaked and plastered to my face. I couldn’t see anything a few inches in front of me. I ran into an elevator right before the doors closed, thinking it was empty, only to see Phillip standing to the side, looking perfectly dry, because being the intelligent human he was, he’d brought an umbrella with him.
He took one look at me and gave me a horrified expression, as if my eyeball was dangling from my socket, trying to shake hands with him. Being the awkward person I am, I waved and said, “Remember me?” Then I proceeded to give him a little tap dance and spin where I finished off with a lift of my leg and pretended to toot. I believe the words that came out of my mouth were, “I sneaked a farty leak on you.” What possessed me to do such a thing was beyond me; I tried to blame it on a morning episode of alcohol intake, but that wasn’t the case.
But that wasn’t all, his disgusted face encouraged me to add, “But don’t worry, I have a boyfriend now, so I’m saving those special toots for him. Don’t even try asking me to do it again. One-time special.”
Let’s just say, I cried in my office the first half of that morning out of pure mortification.
Thankfully, I’d avoided another elevator ride with Phillip. I highly recommend to everyone, never engage in any kind of office sexual shenanigans; they only end up traumatizing you for a lifetime.
When the door slid open to my office floor, I was bombarded by white plastic drapes hanging from the ceiling. The entire office was covered from floor to ceiling, not a square inch uncovered. Before I could ask what was going on, Susan, the receptionist, came barging through the drapes, hands to her head and a panicked look on her face. She was wearing a yellow shirt that sported a picture of a unicorn with a mustache on the front and a pair of paisley corduroys. Not the best outfit, but most certainly not the worst I’d seen her in either.
“Heavens to Murgatroyd, did you hear what happened?”
