“Fine. I’ll be the silent chauffeur.” Reece nodded at the road, a serious look on his face.
Charlotte bit her lip. “Have I thanked you already?”
“Yes, you have.” Reece rested his hand on her knee and gave it a squeeze. “It’s seriously no big deal. And I get to meet your boss!” He said it like picking up Roger from the train station was an exciting relationship milestone and not a huge imposition.
She tried to channel his enthusiasm. “Welcome to my glamorous life,” she said. “Catering to the whims of a wealthy man-child.”
SLACK MESSAGE FROM RODER LUDERMORE TO CHARLOTTE THORNE, 8:54 AM: need a charger
Charlotte wilted. “Do you have an iPhone charger?”
“Back at the dorm.”
“Damn.”
“I’m sure he’ll understand,” Reece assured her. “You’re doing him a favor.”
Sweet, naïve Reece. She almost felt guilty subjecting him to what was coming.
When they pulled up in front of the station, Roger stood on the curb with a huge energy drink. He wore an impeccable suit, but his hair shone with grease, a telltale sign he’d also been up all night. Charlotte held her breath as he took in the beat-up Jeep. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep her mouth shut if he insulted Reece directly.
She rolled down the window. “Good morning, Mr. Ludermore,” she said in her inflectionless work voice.
Roger gave her a once-over. “You look like shit.”
Reece’s eyebrows rocketed up his face. She willed him to stay quiet, for his sake as well as her own.
Her boss opened the back door and threw himself into the car. He didn’t bother to buckle his seat belt.
“We’ll have you on campus in ten minutes,” Charlotte said. She watched in the rearview mirror as he plucked a dog hair from the seat and examined it, his lip curling. He dropped it outside the open window.
“Hello, sir,” Reece said, politely ignoring the dog hair fiasco.
Roger slurped from his Red Bull. After swallowing, he asked, “Who are you?”
“I’m Reece. It’s an honor to meet you.” Thankfully Reece was too busy navigating traffic to extend his hand for a shake—Charlotte suspected Roger would turn his nose up.
Roger nodded once before turning his attention back to her. “This is a massive fuckup, Charlotte.”
Her heart seemed determined to wedge itself up her throat. She’d hoped he wouldn’t berate her in front of a total stranger, but that had been naïve.
You have to pay your credit card bill.
“I’m sorry for the confusion.” The apology assembled itself instantly, as if she’d never left the office. “Aubrey and I discussed your logistics, but something must have gone haywire.”
“It’s unprofessional to blame someone else for your mistakes,” Roger said. “Charger?”
Reece threw her a concerned glance. Charlotte’s cheeks flushed. “I don’t have one, sir. We were in a rush to come get you.”
Roger sniffed. “All you had to do was get me from point A to point B and you can’t even get that right.” She bit the inside of her cheek, knowing better than to defend herself.
Reece cleared his throat and took a turn hard, knocking Roger into the door. “Sorry about that!” he chirped unconvincingly.
Roger glared at him and put on his seat belt. “I hope you’re enjoying your vacation,” he said petulantly. “You really left us in the lurch at the office.”
Charlotte fought the urge to ask what she had messed up, considering she had answered his emails all weekend. And written his stupid commencement address at the expense of spending time with her best friend. For that matter, what vacation?
“But we got on all right without you,” he added.
We. Who was we?
“I’m glad to hear that,” she said smoothly. “I’m ready to hit the ground running tomorrow morning to make sure you’re prepped for the week ahead.”
“Good.” Roger’s attention drifted from her as he stared out the window. “It wasn’t a total loss. Aubrey and I had some time to get to know each other.” He dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped at his mouth. “Fun girl.”
Charlotte gnawed at her tongue. “Quite.”
“She brought me a smoothie from some place on Bleecker. It’s part of this new fasting trend all the NYU students are doing.”
Was Aubrey the we Roger spoke of? Since when did he describe himself and an assistant as part of a unit? Charlotte couldn’t think of a single occasion Roger referred to her as anything other than the girl. “Aubrey certainly has her thumb on the pulse of things,” she said.
“Yes, well.” Roger sniffed again. He stretched his arm across the back of the seat, his manicured fingers scratching the pilled fabric. “We had an interesting conversation about you.”
Charlotte did not like the sound of that. Aubrey was hardly her number one fan, mostly because Charlotte expected her to do her job. “Oh?”
“It sounds like her talent’s being wasted,” Roger drawled. “A vivacious girl like that.”
What talent? Her talent recommending smoothie places and swanning around the office in Manolo Blahniks like she had no work to do?
