Page 239 of Manhattan Bossholes

I hated starting new jobs.

I especially hated that I’d taken this job from the same man who’d gotten me fired. But how could I possibly turn down one job that would pay me about three times what I’d been making from my multitude of part-time jobs? Stacy’s eyes had almost bugged out of her head when I’d told her that the Mr. Moneybags who’d wanted to buy furniture for his grandmother was actually Mr. Coffeezilla from the café, and he’d given me a job, but she agreed I’d made the only possible choice.

I glanced down at the map on my phone again, then stuffed it in the pocket of my dress pants as the office building came into view. The headquarters for Saunders Furniture was housed in a rectangular, six-story building with a frameless glass facade. A bundle of nerves exploded inside me as I made my way past a courtyard decorated with trimmed hedges, wooden benches, and an ornate fountain. I pressed my hand to my belly, willing the nerves to settle.

Keep it together. You just sold your soul to work for a grumpy, furniture-empire owning, Coffeezilla billionaire. No big deal.

I didn’t know why I was so nervous anyway. It’s not like I’d gotten this job under false pretenses. Trent and his grandmother had both looked at my designs and knew what I had to offer. They were the ones who wanted me for the role. I hadn’t been looking for anything from them. But now that I had this job, I desperately didn’t want to lose it. Even if it meant working for that infuriating man.

At least his grandmother was sweet.

I sucked in a sharp breath as I reached the door, straightening my blazer in the reflection before tucking my curls behind my ears. I pulled the heavy glass door open and marched into the lobby.

My jaw immediately dropped. A massive reception desk greeted me, walnut with brass inlays. The large glass windows flooded the space with light to highlight the curated furniture displays. The lobby was a luxury showroom with some of Saunders Furniture’s best pieces mounted on prop stages. I drew closer to one of the displays, realizing that the hand-carved coffee table was one of the very first pieces Saunders Furniture ever produced. According to the small placard that accompanied the piece, it had been built by Trent’s grandfather, Davis Saunders.

I’d seen pictures of it in my textbooks, but seeing it in person was amazing.

“Can I help you?” a voice called.

I turned to the young woman behind the reception desk. The Saunders Furniture logo was mounted on the wall behind her, dusted in brushed gold and set against a backdrop of rich purple textured fabric. Purple and gold—the colors of royalty. I was in the presence of furniture-making royalty.

Excitement ate through some of my nerves. “Uh, yes,” I said. “I’m here for my orientation.”

The woman picked up a clipboard. “That would make you…Natasha Dryer?”

I smiled and nodded.

“Perfect,” she said, climbing to her feet. “If you’ll just follow me, I’ll take you down to HR.”

I followed her into a small room where I went through a company orientation and a whole slew of onboarding paperwork with a man named Hunter. By the time we were done, I had my IT system access, an ID badge with my photo, and a signed copy of my contract.

“That’s it for me,” Hunter said as we reached another office. “I’ll leave you in Carin’s capable hands.”

A pretty woman with a short French bob swept out of the room. “Thanks, Hunter,” she said as he took off. “Natasha.” She shook my hand. “Nice to meet you.”

I glanced at her name plate on the door. She’d taped a pronunciation guide beneath it. Car-in. It made me smile.

“You wouldn’t believe how many people see my name and call me Karen,” she explained. “And I’m just not one of those.”

I chuckled, her sense of humor immediately putting me at ease.

“So, I’m here to give you the official office tour,” she said, leading me through the building. I’d already seen the HR department, but as the elevator ascended, we toured through Marketing and Sales, Customer Experience, Supply Chain and Logistics, Retail Operations, and Legal.

“And this is where you’ll be working,” she said, leading me down a hallway on a floor labeled Design and Product Development. Offices shot off in every direction, people hunched over drawing tablets or working away in design programs on their computers. I caught sight of a couple screens with furniture specs, and my excitement doubled.

I’d forgotten what it was like to work with a full design team.

Having the creative freedom to build my own designs and live off the income would always be my dream, but there was something to be said about being able to put your head together with a bunch of like-minded individuals and watch a project evolve from an idea to a tangible product.

Carin walked through an open door, leading me into a conference room of sorts. More offices jutted off from this room. “Good morning!” she called.

Heads popped out of doorways briefly. Then a group of people gathered in the room, staring at me. My stomach lurched.

“Everyone,” Carin announced. “This is Natasha Dryer. We’d like to welcome her to the team.”

“Hi,” I said and was greeted by an uncomfortable silence in return. I mean, it was a Monday, and I didn’t expect anyone to raise any enthusiasm at this time in the morning. Still, the silence was unnerving, making me want to squirm in my faux designer boots.

Carin carried on, unbothered. “Natasha, these are your direct reports. You’ve got Talia Rhzanova. Head of upholstery design.”