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“I understand.”
“We might still have business for you, just maybe not as much as you’d hoped.”
“Small is good,” Aaron replies.
“It would’ve been perfect if you’d come last month. We have an event tonight,” I say.
“Ah, next time then.” He leaves a folder on my desk. “Fact sheets and financials.”
“Thanks. I’ll have a look.”
“Mr. Hartley, how about I come back sometime and bring you more samples? Say, morning snacks for you and your staff.”
I admire the guy’s persistence. “Sounds good. Ask my assistant Kylie to make that happen.”
“Thanks for the opportunity, Mr. Hartley.”
“Call me Rob.”
“Sure. Thanks, Rob. I’ll see myself out,” the man says.
Before he closes the door behind him, he flashes me a smile. Why does it remind me of that scary doll head inside Amber-Rose’s workroom?
Moments later, Kylie enters. “How did it go?”
“Good.”
“Can I ask you to assign me a project?” Kylie flicks her brows up and down.
“What and why?” My eyes narrow, suspecting it’s one of her silly office ideas. The forty-year-old Irish native has been my assistant since the beginning of Hartley Marine, two days after Rocky joined me, and she’s known as a clown around here.
“Health and wellbeing at work.”
“What exactly is the project?”
“Finding more suppliers with charm like Mr. Smith. Good for morale and motivation.”
I roll my eyes. Yep. Kylie and her silly ideas.
And my assistant laughs, as if she was at a comedy festival. “You’re a handsome guy, Mr. Hartley, but I must say you’ve got stiff competition. Anyway, are you okay with me organizing a morning break with that charming Mr. Smith?”
“Yeah, sure,” I reply, not wanting to hear any more about my potential supplier’s admirable qualities.
“Your schedule is packed next week,” she says in her thick Irish accent. “Maybe the week after?”
“That’s fine.”
Finally alone in my office, I call Amber-Rose.
“Hello. This is Amber.”
Oh… that voice…
“Hello?”
“Um… Amber-Rose, it’s Rob.”
A pause.
