Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Evie

A week later, I arrived at my new office with a belly full of first-day jitters.

Was the building this tall when I came for my interviews?

I stood at the front entrance, staring up at the skyscraper, feeling as tiny as an ant. It was still dark, but as the old saying goes, New York never sleeps, so the block was almost as lit up as it would be midday. People in suits were already rushing all around me, even though it was a little before six AM.

I’d wanted to be early, but now that I was here, maybe this was a smidge too early. I debated going back to the coffee shop where I’d stopped for my caffeine fix on the way from the train. Perhaps I could sit at the table and watch some TikToks to pass the time until seven, but then a man jogged past me. I didn’t give it much thought until he stopped a few paces later and backed up.

“Evie?”

I blinked. “Merrick?”

He plucked an earbud from one ear and looked me up and down. “Are you coming to work this early?”

“Ummm… Yeah, I thought it would be good to get an early start.”

My new boss looked at his watch. “It’s five fifty.”

“I guess I was a little overeager.”

He smiled. Damn, he really was good looking. I’d always had a weakness for a man who wore a suit well, but today he was dressed in running gear—black shorts and a body-hugging, long-sleeved Under Armour shirt. His forehead was damp with sweat, and his thick neck glistened in the overhead lights.

“The office doesn’t open until seven.”

“Oh. I’ll just go get some coffee or something.”

Merrick eyed the large cup in my hand. “Why don’t I show you where your office is, and you can get situated.”

“Oh, no. That’s okay. I don’t want to interrupt your run.”

“It was my last lap, anyway.” He tilted his head toward the door. “Come on.”

In the lobby, Merrick stopped at the security desk.

“Hey, Joe. This is Evie Vaughn. Dr. Everly Vaughn.” He turned to me and winked. “I’m sure HR will be sending down the paperwork to get her building cards later today. Just figured I’d introduce you and tell you not to forget the Doctor part before her name.”

“No problem, boss.”

Merrick extended his hand for me to walk first toward the elevator. I waited until we were out of earshot to say anything.

“You know, I’m not a jerk about being called doctor. I could care less about the title. You were just being difficult that day and brought out a side of me.”

The elevator doors slid open, and Merrick held them and grinned. “What side would that be? Your bitchy side?”

I squinted. “Did you just call me a bitch on my first day of work? I think I’ve already figured out the root of your stressed-employee problems here at the office. This job is going to be easier than I thought.”

Merrick smirked. “I never claimed I wasn’t part of the problem. Your job is to get people to learn how to deal with it.”

“Or…you could act more professional.”

Merrick pressed a button on the elevator panel. “What fun would that be?” He paused. “By the way, your office is on a different floor than the one you interviewed on. Not sure if Joan told you that.”

“Oh yes, she mentioned it. The traders are all on one floor and everyone else is a floor down?”

He nodded. “We don’t all fit on one, but it’s better split this way, anyway. The traders yell across the bullpen all day long. It can get pretty loud, and the language isn’t great when a stock they’ve invested in heavily tanks.”

“I bet.” The doors slid closed, and I felt Merrick’s presence, even though he was standing an appropriate distance away in the elevator car. “So…do you come to the office early to run every day?”

“I live in the building. The top few floors are residential.”

“Oh, wow. Guess that cuts down on commute time. It also explains where all your papers and photos are.”

“Papers and photos?”

“Your desk is so clean. I was in your office twice, and both times I saw no sticky notes, notepads, files, or paperwork. And your credenza didn’t have any personal items like framed photos or signed baseballs or whatever.”

“I like things organized. My files are in drawers, and my sticky notes are electronic.”

I snorted. “You’re not going to love my office then.”

Merrick raised a brow but said nothing. The elevator dinged at the thirty-fourth floor, and he led me down a series of hallways. It didn’t dawn on me that every one of the offices was a glass fishbowl until we came to the one he said was mine. It was glass, too, but the glass was different, frosted so you couldn’t see inside.

He unlocked the door and opened it for me. The lights turned themselves on as we entered.

I sniffed a few times. “Do you smell that?”

He pointed to the glass. “It’s the glue from the film we installed to make the privacy glass. It was just done over the weekend. HR thought it was necessary to shield people who are having appointments with you from prying eyes.”

I nodded. “Thank you. Privacy is important. Without it, patients will be apprehensive about opening up.”

Merrick thumbed toward the door. “The coffee room is a few doors down, and restrooms a few after that. I believe your desk has been filled with basic supplies. You have a laptop there, and I can see the HR manuals are behind you on the shelf. Joan will give you the full tour when she gets in. I’m going to go upstairs and take a shower, but if you need anything, you know where my office is.”

“Okay, great. Thank you. I’m anxious to get started. Will you have some time to talk later today? I’d like to learn about the company’s culture.”

“I’m sure HR can fill you in on that.”

“Actually, I’d prefer to hear it from you. Things like values and priorities are usually set at the top level and trickle down. But I’d also like to talk about the expectation of communication between management and me, as I learn things from employees.”

Merrick frowned and looked at his watch. “Fine. I’ll come by when I’m done upstairs.”

“Thank you.”

As he walked out, I stole a glance at Mr. Grumpy from behind. His running shorts stretched across the muscles of his rear end as his long strides ate up the distance to the door. Good Lord, even the man’s ass was toned—the kind of toned that reminded me I needed to get my own butt back to the gym. Only I didn’t have one any longer. The apartment I’d shared with Christian had a gym in the building—another thing I’d lost in wedding Armageddon.

I’d been lost in that thought, my eyes still glued to the boss’s derrière, when he turned back around. The slight smirk at the corner of his lips told me I’d been caught.

“You might want to leave your door open to air out the smell. Wouldn’t want you high off glue fumes your very first day.”

I nodded and willed my face not to show embarrassment. “I’ll do that.”

After he left, I took a deep breath and looked around my new home away from home. This office was bigger than the one I’d had at Christian’s family’s company, and I also had a decent view of the city from the windows on the back wall. All in all, it felt like I’d made a good decision. So maybe there was something to Kitty’s advice to manifest my own happiness...

• • •

My nose was deep in the employee manual when I heard footsteps approaching. I looked up to find Merrick’s appearance very different than it had been just a little while ago. His hair was slicked back, still wet from the shower, and those little ends I knew would curl up when they dried brushed against the collar of his navy blue suit jacket. His face, which had been peppered with scruff earlier, was now shaved clean, making the chiseled line of his jaw even more pronounced.

God, he was too damn handsome.

Until he spoke, that is…

“You know the glue smell in here might work for you. No one will be able to tell if your deodorant stops working again.”

I gave him a look. “Cute.”

“That’s what all the ladies call me. But you should probably watch it. Sexual harassment causes stress in the workplace, you know.”

I shook my head. “Like I said, trouble usually starts at the top and trickles down.”

Merrick nodded toward the door. “How about you psychoanalyze me in my office so I can get settled in?”

I grabbed one of the notebooks from the drawer and stood. “Whatever works for you.”

Inside his office, he turned on all of his electronics and leaned back in his chair as they whirred to life. “I wasn’t so sure you were going to take the job.”

“I debated it for a while.”

“What was the deciding factor?”

“It was something Kitty said, actually.”

“Ah…my grandmother. The woman can be very persuasive.”

“She can.” I tilted my head. “Is that why you hired me? Because of my relationship with Kitty?”

Merrick shook his head. “To be honest, when you came in for your interviews, I didn’t know who you were, other than someone who’d applied for the job. I found out after the fact.”

“So you hired me because I was the least-competent person?”

He stared at me for a moment, then sat up and folded his hands on his desk. “I hired you because my gut said to. I rely a lot on instinct.”

I let that sink in a moment before nodding. “Okay. Well, thank you.”

“Any other questions about why you were hired, or shall we get started?”

I flipped open my notepad and clicked my pen. “I’m ready. Can we start with you telling me a bit about why your board decided an in-house therapist was necessary? I asked you that during our first interview, but you didn’t elaborate. It would be helpful to know the specifics.”

Merrick sighed. “We were sued civilly.”

“For?”

“Emotional distress. I believe the legal term was negligent infliction of emotional distress.”

I jotted down some notes. “Has the case concluded, or is this an active lawsuit?”

“Lawsuits.”

I lifted a brow. “How many?”

“Four. We won two, settled one because it was less expensive than going to trial, and the last one is still in the early stages. Though that case is bullshit. The guy is just lazy, but he was friends with the guy we settled with and thinks he can also capitalize on our generosity.”

“Anything else I should know about?”

“I guess I should also mention that there was a small fistfight here in the office recently, too. The board mentioned that as one of the determining factors in the mandate to hire someone.”

“Small? So two employees?”

Merrick’s lip twitched. “Eight. But it started as two. The others just joined in, taking sides.”

“Do you know what the fight was over?”

“Bonuses, who had the higher profit rate, whether a trade was a good investment or not.” He shook his head. “It’s always something, and it always stems from competitiveness. The people on the floor all make a good living. Most of them could retire by thirty, if they wanted to. Money isn’t what drives them; it’s being the best.”

“And what makes someone the best? I don’t mean how do you determine who did the best—obviously that’s a numerical test. But what qualities does it take to become the best broker?”

Merrick nodded. “That’s a good question. Being intelligent is a given. Most of the traders on the floor went to Ivy League schools and graduated at the top of their class. What sets the best apart? I’d say nerves of steel. You have to be able to tune out the noise around you and stay the course some days, and other days you have to take a risk that could lose you everything. You ever hear the saying, ‘You use the same boiling water to harden an egg that you do to soften a potato’?” He tapped his fingers to his chest. “It’s about what’s inside, not the circumstances you’re in.”

I smiled. “I know you weren’t in favor of adding this position, but that quote actually supports bringing someone on board to help people deal with stress, since everyone processes things differently.”

“Or I could just fire the soft potatoes and keep the hardened eggs.”

I chuckled. “Speaking of which, how is your retention rate with employees?”

“The financial-service industry has one of the highest attrition rates. Ours tends to run a little higher than average.”

“What’s a little higher?”

“Ten to fifteen percent. It’s not a coincidence that our profits also run in tandem with that higher-than-average turnover rate. We’ve been the highest-performing firm three years in a row because I only employ the best.”

“So I take it that means you fire a lot of people?”

Merrick shrugged. “They tend to quit when they can’t keep up.”

I wrote some more notes and then nodded. “Okay. And how many hours would you say your employees work, on average?”

“Most are in by seven and clear out by seven or eight, unless something is going on.”

“Is that every day?”

“Weekdays, when the market is open.”

“Do they work weekends?”

“Usually. But not like weekdays. The analysts tend to work more than the traders on the weekends when it’s quiet. The traders might work half a day on Saturday and then take off until the following evening. They usually start back Sunday night when the international markets begin opening.”

“So twelve to thirteen hours a day, five days a week, and then five to six hours on weekends each day? Does that sound right?”

I did the math as he thought about it and nodded.

“So seventy to eighty hours a week would be the norm?”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“How many hours do you work?”

“I’m always the first one in and usually one of the last to leave.”

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“That depends on what it is.”

“Are you married?”

“No.”

“Were you ever?”

Merrick shook his head. “Engaged once. Not anymore.”

“Don’t you find it difficult to maintain a relationship while working that many hours?”

“The divorce rate in this country is fifty-one percent. I think most people find maintaining a relationship difficult, and the majority of them work nine-to-fives. But to answer your question, no. It’s not impossible to have a relationship. Both parties just need to have the right expectations about how much time they’ll have available.” He leaned in. “Here’s the thing about this job—it’s all about expectations. You need to learn how to set them and meet them. The job is not easy. The time commitment is not for everyone. But it’s a choice. And if you can’t hack it? Leave. But don’t sue me on the way out because you couldn’t put in the work.”

I tapped the pen in my hand against the top of the notebook I’d closed ten minutes ago. “So you think the only people who need a little help with their stress are the people who can’t hack the job?”

“I think that’s the case the majority of the time, yes.”

I smiled. “I think we’ve found the root of the problem.”

“And I assume you’re still inferring it’s me? After what—has it been an hour you’ve been here yet?”

“You set the tone in this office. It must be difficult to live up to your standards, if not impossible. That’s bound to trickle down to the employees at every level.”

“So I should lower my standards to make this a more pleasant place to work?” He locked eyes with me. “I don’t bend. People need to reach.”

“Have you ever seen a therapist?”

Merrick sat back in his chair. “You won’t be counseling me, Ms. Vaughn.”

“Doctor Vaughn. And I thought all of the employees were mandated to have monthly sessions.”

“I’m not an employee. I’m an owner. And if you read through the board minutes, you’ll see that I made sure their mandate for therapy was very specific in not including me.” He reached up to the two monitors on his desk and turned them on before checking his watch. “If you don’t have any other questions, I need to start my day.”

I nodded and stood. “Thank you for your time.” But as I reached the door, Merrick spoke again.

“Evie?”

I turned back. “Finally, he calls me Evie and not Ms. Vaughn…”

The corner of his lip twitched. “I just wanted to say that while I may be strong willed, I can admit when I’m wrong… And I am. I shouldn’t have hired you.”

My face fell.

“My goal was to hire someone incompetent to prove a point. But I can already tell you’re not.”

“I think there was a compliment buried in there somewhere, wasn’t there?”

Merrick looked like he tried not to smile, but failed as he shook his head and turned to face his monitors. “Try not to soften my troops too much on your first day.”