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“You’re trying to distract me. How do you know him, Cat?”
I sigh as I turn back to her. Dammit. I know by now she won’t let this one go. “He owns the coffee shop.”
Her jaw drops. “That’s sexual harassment. He can’t purr at you and grab you! Good for you for punching him!”
“It wasn’t like that. I think he thought he was being cute. Kitten…Cat,” I explain.
She shakes her head. “Nope. Even worse. Pet names. You’re an employee. It’s inappropriate.”
“It really isn’t like that. He scared me is all. He wasn’t trying to be inappropriate.”
Sophie’s straight face cracks, and she laughs again. “Oh my goodness, you should have seen your face. Do you really think I would be upset if a blond God withglacierblue eyes called me Kitten?”
I roll my eyes and spin back to my desk. “I’m ignoring you.”
She cackles at that. “Don’t worry, I’ll be over here with my plain ole chocolate brown eyes just hanging out.”
I grab a gummy bear from the stash we keep between our desks and chuck it at her. She giggles and dives out of the way, but it lands in her lap. She then picks it up and pops it into her mouth.
This is the most annoying morning ever.
Also, I’m probably going to lose my job at the coffee shop.
Excellent.
* * *
For the firsttime since I stepped foot inside Jolie, I find myself in Cynthia’s office. It’s nothing new to be inspected like this. I grew up with a grandmother who scrutinized my every move and watched every morsel that went into my mouth. She critiqued the way I folded my legs (at the ankle), the way I cut my steak (on an angle), how I styled my hair, the length of my skirts, and the fit of my clothes.
If there was something to inspect—and criticize—my grandmother was up for the challenge, and she relished it.
No one ever braided my hair or looked me in the eye and told me I was beautiful. Sure, I’ve been told Ilookbeautiful, but never that Iambeautiful.Just as I am.
So, as I sit in front of Cynthia, one of the most iconic women in the fashion world, I don’t squirm. I hold my chin up and give her a warm smile while I wait for details about why she’s called me here and what I can do to make her happy.
“You don’t use your last name,” she says, surveying me with a keen eye. It’s not a question.
I shake my head. “No. I changed it years ago.”
“Even though the name would give you every advantage. Including an office of your own rather than a cubicle out there with everyone else,” she says, waving toward the pen as if the entire area is beneath her.Beneath us.
“I’m not looking for special treatment.”
“Obviously. If not for a call from your grandmother, I would have had no idea.”
I manage to keep myself from groaning. “If it changes your position on my internship, I understand.”
She shakes her head. “No, no. You misunderstand what I’m saying. I’m impressed, Catherine. Very impressed. But that isn’t why I called you in here. And after this conversation, I won’t bring it up again.”
I suck in a breath. “Thank you.”
“Anyway, there is a ball at the end of October. A masquerade ball the weekend of Halloween. The Hanson family is hosting it. I imagine you know who they are.”
My family’s biggest competitor.
I give her a subtle nod. “I’m aware.”
“Will that be a problem?”
