Page 8 of Taking Flight


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Chapter Four

Losing Altitude

I take one last look in the mirror, adjust the cuff on my sleeve under my jacket, then stroll out of my room, through the hotel, and into a waiting car. This is it. The interview I’ve waited my entire career for. What I’ve been working toward for the last twelve years. Today, it either pays off, or I go back to Los Angeles with my tail between my legs and keep on fighting the fight.

When the driver pulls up in front of the address, my eyes stare wide-eyed at the building towering over us. We have some tall buildings in Los Angeles, but none compare to the structures lining the streets of this city. I step onto the sidewalk, thanking the driver who’s holding the door open for me. “Go in through those doors, miss, and tell the front desk who you’re here to see. They’ll take care of you from there.”

I do as he instructs, taking a fortifying gulp of courage as I approach the man standing behind the large counter. “Good morning. Chloe Adams for an interview with Harrison, Harrison & Watkins.”

“Of course, Ms. Adams.” The gentleman motions to a ledger. “If you can just sign here, and I’ll need to see a form of identification.”

After the verification preliminaries, I’m given a temporary identification badge and escorted to an elevator that whisks me to the sixty-fifth floor. I know from researching the company that the law office occupies floors sixty to sixty-five. I also know that only the founding and senior partners occupy the top, makes things a whole lot scarier. “You got this. You got this,” I murmur to myself over and over, not stopping until the doors slide open.

“Ms. Adams.” A sharp dressed woman is waiting in the wings as I step out of the elevator, surprising me when she speaks. She walks in my direction, her hand flying up to her mouth. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Please, its fine.” I laugh, trying to dismiss the moment. “I just didn’t see you. Let’s try this again.” I extend my hand. “Chloe Adams. Nice to meet you.”

“Gina Crosby.” She clutches my fingers for only a moment then releases them. “I’m the executive assistant to Mr. Harrison.” She pauses and looks my way as she leads me to an office. “Jefferson, not Griffin.” She shakes her head, waving a hand in the air. “It can be so confusing having father and son on the same floor.” She stops in front of a conference room then turns to me. “Your meeting will be held in here.”

She opens the door, holding it wide for me to enter. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” She watches as I pull out one of the cushioned leather chairs, and then as I lower myself into it, nods once I’m seated. “Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, water?”

I smile politely. “No, thank you, Ms. Crosby.”

“Very good.” She smiles back at me. “I’ll let Mr. Peters know you’re here. He shouldn’t be long.” She turns on her heel and strides away before I can reply.

I try to sit patiently, but that lasts about three minutes before I stand and move to one of the windows. The view is astounding. Something I could definitely get used to. I press my hand against the glass to lean forward, trying to see if I can catch a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty. I jump when someone behind me clears their throat. I spin around, embarrassment flaring in my cheeks (yet again), as my eyes land on a man in his mid-forties, an amused smirk dancing on his lips.

“It’s a nice view, yes?” He steps further into the room, shutting the door behind him as he does, and stops when he’s a foot shy of me. “Ms. Adams?”

“Mr. Peters?” I grip the hand he’s reached out to me and shake it. “I’m so sorry about that.”

“For enjoying the view?” He releases his hold to wave my apology away. “Don’t be silly.” He moves to sit at the table. “Please, take a seat, and please, call me Ross.”

I sit in the chair I claimed earlier, clasp my hands in front of me, and dive in. “It’s truly an honor to meet you, Ross. I’ve been an admirer of yours for many years. I truly appreciate the opportunity and consideration of this position.”

“It’s you who deserves admiration. I’ve been watching you the past year. You’re good. You’ve earned that seat you’re sitting in right now.” He slides a folder across the table to me and points to it. “We’re already prepared to make you an offer. Everything you need to know is in that folder, but let’s talk a little more about the role.”

My heart thunders in my chest at his words. They’re already making me an offer? I was not expecting the process to move at such a quick pace. I give myself a mental shake and concentrate on what Ross is saying. We spend the next hour talking about the position, how I’d integrate and work with him, and about the current media concerns of the company. It’s everything I want and more.

“So, if you don’t have any further questions, I think we’re done.” Ross concludes, rising to move around the table to shake my hand. “I hope the next time I see you, it’s to show you to your new office here at Harrison, Harrison & Watkins. It’s truly been a pleasure.”

“Thank you again.” I shake his hand and smile warmly. “I promise I’ll be in touch with my decision quickly.”

“Mr. Harrison will stop by in just a minute to give you our official partner pitch.” He gives me a wink. “But make no mistake, the job is yours if you want it.” With that, he gives me a quick wave and exits the room.

I can’t help the grin that’s plastered to my face. This is really happening. I knew I was a good candidate for the position, but this seemed way too easy. I reach over with two fingers and pinch the skin on the back of my hand to make sure this isn’t some crazy dream I’m having. “Ouch!” I flinch at my own action.

“I was right.” A deep voice sounds in front of me, goosebumps bursting across my flesh at the familiar tone, my head snapping up. “You look like a million bucks in that outfit.”

“Fin?” I take a step back, blinking rapidly to make sure what, or who, I’m seeing in front of me is real. I watch, speechless, as the door shuts quietly behind him and he strides towards me. He looks even more handsome, as if that was even possible, in the dark suit he’s wearing, the crisp white of his shirt making his eyes look even brighter.

“I don’t think we ever formally introduced ourselves.” The corners of his lips twitch as he takes one of my hands into his, the heat that surrounds my fingers intimate as he grips them. “Griffin Harrison, Senior Partner at Harrison, Harrison & Watkins.”

My mouth falls open as I take another step back, my hand dragging out of his as realization dawns. “Holy shit. You knew who I was the entire time.”

“Well, the company did book your ticket,” he chides. “And, not coincidentally, mine too, making sure we were seated together.”

“So, what is this?” I cross my arms over my chest and lock them there in an effort to restrain myself from slapping him. “Some kind of scheme to embarrass me? Trick me into telling you something or showing you something about myself that you may not discover in an interview?”

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