Page 466 of Manhattan Bossholes

I grimaced, realizing that I needed to backpedal, and fast. “Apologies, that wasn’t what I meant. I’m sure you have a legitimate concern, and I do want to understand it. But before I accept your resignation after just one week of employment, can you explain what’s going on? HR will need to know, and of course I’m curious as well.”

She finally seemed to exhale, blinking back the tears without letting them fall, and the tension in my office dialed down a few notches.

“Oh, don’t worry, I made a list,” she said as she tapped on her phone. “First, Clint has belittled me from the very first day in front of the team for not knowing how to do things.” She locked eyes with me. “I’m still figuring everything out, there’s a learning curve, you know? Especially since I’ve gotten zero training from him.”

“Of course,” I agreed, already uncomfortable with what she was telling me. “What else?”

“Second, he’s making unreasonable demands of my time. He expected me to complete a fall color scheme work-up in twenty-four hours! That’s, like, weeks of work!”

I frowned. “That’s concerning.”

Natalie took a deep breath.

“And third…he called my designs amateurish.”

Her expression shifted back to wounded at the admission, and I suddenly wanted to throttle Clint.

“Interesting. In saying that, he also insulted me.”

“Right?” she asked, incredulous.

I focused on my laptop, “I’ll need to make some calls and set up meetings to get to the bottom of this. It’s going to take some time.”

“Or you could walk yourself down to my floor and see it firsthand!”

I’d never believed in the idea of “showing management’s investment by wandering around,” like I didn’t trust my employees to do their job if someone wasn’t looking over their shoulders. But maybe it was time to show my face, and if necessary, bust some skulls?

I studied Natalie. It had taken balls for her to come to me with this. I didn’t exactly appreciate her leapfrogging the normal chain of command for lodging complaints, but I could tell that she was at the end of her rope. I pushed back from my desk.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

The normal working buzz in the office quieted as Natalie and I headed for the elevator. I rarely showed my face outside my office, and I never consorted with underling new hires. Doing both probably set the internal gossip machine into overdrive.

Fantastic. Exactly what I didn’t need: people speculating what the beautiful newbie and the big boss were up to. I could feel the frown spreading across my face as I pushed the elevator call button.

We both seemed to remember in the same moment what had happened the last time we were alone in the elevator.

“I hope you’re planning to remain clothed this time,” I said, staring straight ahead at my reflection in the mirrored wall.

She sputtered for a second. “And I hope you manage to not ogle me.”

I whirled to face her. “Excuse me?”

“You looked at me like I was the last slice of bacon at an all-you-can-eat buffet!” Her eyebrows were knitted together angrily in a way that could almost be considered adorable if she wasn’t so damn infuriating.

“How could I not? You were waving your arms around like you wanted me to see how perfect you looked.”

She opened her mouth to respond, then froze, and I realized how what I’d said must’ve sounded. Pink flooded her cheeks.

“Let’s just focus on what’s going on with Clint, okay?” I groused. I glanced down to adjust my sleeves so I wouldn’t have to meet her eyes again.

Damnit. How did this woman unnerve me so easily? I’d bedded supermodels and starlets without so much as a flicker in my pulse. But this woman… Something about her cracked my foundation, and I didn’t like it one bit.

The elevator doors slid open to the chaos that was an integral part of the creative process. If I had my way, the entire floor would’ve been gutted and Marie Kondo-ed, but Bernie made me swear I’d let the right brain team members keep things as they were.

I stepped in front of Natalie and took the lead through the piles of clothing on the ground in the hallway, gritting my teeth at the mess. There were probably thousands upon thousands of dollars’ worth of ideas among the discarded designs, both good and bad, but no one seemed to care.

“You don’t come down to this floor often, do you?” Natalie asked.