Page 558 of Manhattan Bossholes

“Of course. Maybe if I’m there, I can run front and keep you from getting another black eye.”

I flashed a “wait” signal to Roger idling in the car as we started down the sidewalk, and he nodded back to me.

Tyler punched my arm. “Oh man, remember that bar fight we got into after our gig at that house party? You hit that guy over the head with a chair!”

I grimaced at the memory. Our friendship had started off in a high school garage band, The Torture. I’d dreamed of being a drummer and badgered my parents into buying me a fancy drum kit and lessons from top-tier musicians. When I’d seen the post about a local guy needing a drummer, I’d jumped on it. When we finally met, I didn’t care that Tyler was from the other side of the tracks. I just cared that he could play guitar like no one I’d ever heard. As for him, all he knew about me in the early days was that I was a moderately talented drummer who liked partying as much as he did. He’d never mentioned how I always picked up the tab, or how I seemed to have unlimited funds for anything we needed, like posters and t-shirts. I liked being a normal kid with him. Our band was a brief escape from the demands of being an O’Connor.

“My fighting days are over,” I said. “And yours should be too.”

He shot me a look, and I knew it was time to shut up and enjoy being together.

And forget about the endless list of work shit I needed to deal with. For now, I leaned into being just another guy in search of the perfect breakfast burrito.

3

FELICITY

The LeMonde Diamond winked at me from across the Veritique lobby. Or should I say, a LeMonde replica, since the real hundred-carat gem was currently on exhibit in the Dubai Museum. Industry gossip suggested that a prince was currently trying to buy the massive thing, but the EVP wasn’t having it. I knew everything about everything when it came to Veritique, the good and the bad—and right now, there was plenty of both. They were an amazing brand with a long, storied history, but their current PR disaster was a mess for them…and a huge opportunity for me.

Was I a little nervous about the work ahead of me if I got the job? Well, sure, of course. It was a challenge on a way bigger scale than the stuff I usually dealt with. No one cared that the company’s new CEO was finally taking the right steps toward dealing with conditions in the mines. People only cared that the ginormous jackass who had been the previous CEO had done literally nothing but shout back at everyone who criticized him and then pouted like a toddler when—big shocker—no one wanted to buy from him anymore. He’d basically shit all over his brand, and cleaning that shit away wasn’t going to be easy.

But I was nimble, and I looked at challenging scenarios with a fresh perspective, which was why I’d been called back a week after my initial interview for more meetings. I was a little sweaty and shaky, but so far, I was killing it. The social media director position was within reach, if I could just ace my last meeting of the day. I’d been at the office for hours, moving from conference room to office to lounge as I met with various executives. All that was left was an interview with the CEO. I was ready. Nothing could knock me off my game.

“Felicity, you’re still here,” a voice rang out behind me.

I turned to find Sandrine, the VP of Corporate Affairs and Strategy, walking toward me.

“I am, just one more meeting,” I smiled at the woman, who’d been my easiest interview of the day. “With Mr. O’Connor.”

“Oh, okay.” Her pleasant expression shifted to a frown, so fast I almost missed it. “That should be fine. Anyway, I’m glad I caught you, because I thought of another social media question for you.”

Before I knew it, we’d jumped right into a discussion about measuring return on investment from micro-influencer product placement campaigns. I knew a ton about it, so I took my time explaining my perspective, relishing the way Sandrine drank it all in. I barely noticed the elegant chignon-ed blonde drifting toward us. She stood off to the side while I showed off my knowledge, shifting her weight nervously. Sandrine finally glanced at her.

“Alessandra, can I help you?”

The woman glanced at the tablet she was clutching. “Yes, I’m so sorry to interrupt, but Felicity was due to begin her interview with Mr. O’Connor five minutes ago.”

Sandrine frowned again, and I felt a nervous clench in my stomach. Why were they both so on edge about the CEO?

“Of course.” Sandrine turned to me and gave me an apologetic smile. “Let me walk with you to let him know I’m the reason you’re running behind. He can be a stickler about timing, and I should take the blame, not you.”

Shit. I knew I should have done more research on the CEO, but with him still pretty new to the job, I’d figured there wouldn’t be much out there, so I’d focused my prep work on other things. Plus, his photo was the only one missing from the executive page, which clued me in that things were still shifting into place at the company. Was lateness a big pet peeve of his? Big enough to keep him from hiring me? Punctuality was tough for me. It was a trait I’d willingly offer up during an interview when asked to talk about my weaknesses. Admitting to being late occasionally was usually considered a minor sin, but apparently not when it came to the big man. Noted. At least in this case, I’d have Sandrine to speak for me.

We chatted as we made our way down the long hall to the executive suites until her phone interrupted us. She glanced down at the number.

“Oh no, I completely forgot about this conference call. I need to run.” She grimaced. “But please, tell him it’s my fault. I’m sure he’ll understand. Good luck!”

My heart sank as we ended up in front of double doors with a handle so big it required Alessandra to bend at the waist and wrench it open with all her might. My ally was gone.

“Mr. O’Connor? Felicity Rhodes is here.”

She backed out of the room quickly, right as the leather chair in front of the windows swiveled around.

It took me a second to square the fact that the drop-dead gorgeous man frowning at me, who held my future in his hands, was the exact same one I’d called a “complete asshole” a week prior, right before I’d come to Veritique for my first round of interviews.

My heart dropped to my heels.

“You’re late,” he barked at me as he stood up, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head as he added, in a voice dripping with sarcasm, “Couldn’t find a cab?”