Chapter 18

Ididn't dare go upstairs or even attempt to get upstairs. I had a feeling Isadora would have threatened her doorman with his very life if he let me up again. Instead, I waited like a good boy in the car. I had texted her and let her know we were outside.

I had planned to use the time in the car to talk to her about the Anita thing. I wasn't sure she really heard me the night before. She had been pretty closed off. She seemed more interested in keeping me out of her home than hearing what I had to say about Anita.

I glanced toward the building and there she was. I admired her grace as she walked with her usual confidence carrying her coffee in hand.

I quickly jumped out of the car and opened the door for her. "Good morning."

She smiled. "Good morning."

I closed the door and went around to get in on the other side. "I brought coffee," I said.

"Thank you, but I have my own."

"I see that. I guess it will be your backup."

I took a deep breath, gathering my courage before broaching the subject that I had not been able to stop thinking about. I couldn't let the misunderstanding fester between us any longer.

"I know you don't want to talk about it," I began.

"Then let's not," she replied.

I ignored her, determined to get it out. "I have to tell you something, and you're going to listen."

"Is this why you trapped me in this car?"

"You're not trapped."

"I don't want to ruin my new Louboutins," she replied coolly.

I tried not to smile. "Anita is not my girlfriend."

"Okay."

"She's someone I knew—know. We've worked together a few times. She wanted more from me than I wanted from her."

I could tell she still had doubts, but there was a hint of thawing in her demeanor. She didn't seem quite as icy as she had been a few minutes ago. That was all I needed. I just needed a little way in.

"Now that that's out of the way, I have to invite you to a charity event tomorrow. Most of the company will be there. We don't have to go together."

"Formal?"

"Semi," I replied.

"Fine."

It wasn't a resounding yes, but it was a start. "Great."

The car pulled to a stop and we both got out. We were quickly shown to a conference room. Isadora had her tablet out and sat ramrod straight in the chair beside mine.

"I forwarded you a list of bullet points to discuss with the client," Isadora said quietly.

"You didn't have to do that," I said.

"I thought it would make things easier," she replied.

"It does." I nodded. "Thank you."

The client and his team walked in and sat across from us. I jumped right into the reason for the meeting. The clothing company was ready to try something new. If we couldn't satisfy them, they were going to take their business elsewhere.

The clothing company's marketing manager, a tall man named Landon, looked at both of us with a steely gaze. "We're not looking for just another ad campaign," he said, his voice cold and businesslike. "We need something fresh, groundbreaking."

Isadora nodded curtly and began presenting the bullet points she had forwarded to me earlier. With every point she made, I couldn't help but steal glances at her. She was confident, assertive, and prepared. I tried to focus on Landon and his team, but my attention kept diverting back to Isadora.

It was her show entirely. She presented our pitch like it was hers. Her talents were being wasted. She was more than simply my assistant. She was like my partner.

"Graham can go over the finer details," Isadora said, looking at me with a smile.

"Thank you," I said, nodding.

We worked well together. I picked up where she left off, getting into the nitty-gritty of our proposed marketing campaign, discussing everything from the color palette to the target demographics. All the while, I noticed her, sitting there, taking notes, jotting down key points that we needed to follow up on.

The clients nodded along as I spoke. Landon's stern face softened just a fraction as we presented our concept, an innovative approach that perfectly balanced modern flair with classic elegance, just like the clothing line itself.

After the meeting, Landon seemed impressed and promised to discuss it with his team. The whole thing had gone more smoothly than I had anticipated, thanks to Isadora's exceptional skills.

On the ride back to the office, I turned toward her with a smile. "You know, I'm really glad your father drove you away. Otherwise, we wouldn't have had the pleasure of having you on our team. His loss is our gain. I hope he never realizes just what he lost."

A hint of sadness flickered in her eyes before she smiled. "Thank you. That really means a lot. I hope you're not just saying that."

"I'm not just saying it," I said. "I mean every word, Isadora. Walking into that meeting, I figured we were already screwed. The client seemed like he already didn't like me or the company. It was your presentation and ideas that turned it around."

Sadness flashed in her eyes. "Thank you. I don't—well, I'm not used to hearing genuine praise."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean my father was a very difficult man to work for," she said softly. "He reserved his praise for rare occasions. It's why I left. He overlooked me over and over."

"I'm sorry."

"He wasn't always like that," she said with a faint smile. "I suppose I take it a little harder because I'm used to him spoiling me."

"He doesn't spoil you anymore?" I asked.

"No. He doesn't spoil anyone."

"I remember your dad being a tough man," I said. That was about the nicest way I could describe him.

"He's always been tough, but now he's just withdrawn. He's a robot. He runs the company with an iron fist and there is no room for disappointment. If you screw up, you'll hear about it. If you do well, you'll never hear a peep. It's hard to know if you're on the right path."

"That's tough." I didn't want to say too much. She was talking to me and I didn't want to open my big mouth and suck up all the oxygen.

"When my mother passed away, he changed," she said. "He seemed to shut down. He didn't look at me like his daughter anymore. I was just another employee. Not one he was all that excited to have on board, but someone who did a job. Period."

"Why did you leave?" I asked her.

She took a deep breath. "There was a promotion that I should have gotten. It was mine. I was the most qualified. He knew it. I knew it. Everyone knew it. But he gave it to someone else who didn't deserve it."

"That must have been difficult for you," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Despite the professional atmosphere, something in her story was pulling me in.

"It was," she admitted, her eyes downcast. "But it was the wake-up call I needed. I realized that my father's company wasn't the only place for me in the world. And since then, I've been doing my best to prove him wrong."

I admired her strength. "It takes guts to walk away from something familiar, from a position of safety, albeit one filled with constant disappointment. It took even more courage to take up a role in a new company. You've got balls."

She laughed. "I suppose."

"What did your dad say when you quit?"

She laughed and looked out the window. "Nothing. Not really. I don't think he believed me. I walked out that day and haven't been back."

"Have you talked to your father since you quit?"

"No. He called while we were in Boston but I didn't call him back."

"You're punishing him?" I asked.

"No. Not really. It wasn't like we talked all that often anyway. I'm guessing he's probably glad I'm gone. I was a pain in his ass."

Anger simmered beneath the surface of my calm fa?ade as I listened to her. She had endured some shitty treatment. It wasn't fair.

"He doesn't deserve you," I declared vehemently. "Not at his company, not in his life. You made the right decision to leave. I am truly grateful to have you on the team. I'm not just saying that. I hate to admit it, but I don't think you're going to be my assistant for long. You're a natural at this. I could even see you making partner."

She laughed. "Thank you, but I happen to like not having all the responsibility. I'm enjoying learning something new."

We returned to work and Isadora went to her office. "Call me if you need anything," she said.

"I will, and again, thank you for today. You did a great job this morning."

I went to my office and sat down with a smile on my face. We were mending the rift between us. Baby steps but we were going to get there. My thoughts were interrupted by Spencer. The look on his face told me he had bad news. There was no way it was about the meeting this morning. That had been a damn good pitch.

"What's going on?" I asked.

He closed the door and sat down. "Anita."

"What about her?" I asked, getting a bad feeling in my stomach.

"Her client has asked for a meeting," he said. "Apparently there are some issues."

"What kind of issues?"

He shook his head. "I don't know."

"When?"

"Fifteen minutes," he said.

"Who was overseeing the work?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You were."

"Shit, that guy?"

"Yep." He nodded.

I turned to the computer and quickly pulled up the file. I scanned through it, refreshing my memory. "I don't see anything."

"I looked and didn't see it either," he said.

"I'll have Isadora delay my next meeting," I said. "This is all Anita's doing," I muttered under my breath, my tone laced with annoyance.

Spencer nodded in agreement, acknowledging the predicament we found ourselves in. Despite our reservations, we couldn't afford to lose the client, so we had no choice but to address their concerns.

We made our way to the conference room, and I steeled myself for the impending confrontation. Anita was already there, dressed to the nines with her hair and makeup done like she was about to walk in a pageant. She looked up at me and smiled. The client appeared visibly agitated. I quickly shook his hand and sat down.

As we attempted to address his issues, Anita interjected with a barrage of unnecessary questions, prolonging the ordeal unnecessarily. I was beginning to understand what was really going on.

With each passing moment, my patience wore thinner. I could feel my frustration mounting. It was evident that Anita's behavior was driven by her own ulterior motives rather than the best interests of the client. This was drama. Drama meant to fuck with me and get me in the same room with her.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the client seemed satisfied, and Anita was forced to concede defeat.

"Was all of that really necessary?" I questioned, exasperated. "You know exactly what you were doing in there. You wanted to fuck with me?"

"You could have just gone to dinner with me," she sneered.

"Don't pull this shit again," I warned before walking away.

One fateful night continued to haunt me. She was never going to let me forget what I was quickly realizing was a huge mistake. This was why you didn't shit where you ate. I should have taken that as a sign to stay away from Isadora. The last thing I needed to do was confuse things.