Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
From: Rome Blackburn, President and CEO
To: Roam Inc. employees
Memorandum RE: Conduct
Good morning. Attached you will find the employee handbook, an updated Section 7 emphasizing inappropriate behavior in the workplace. Please watch your inbox. Miss Taggert, from IT, will be sending a brief inquiry today regarding Section 7 contents; all employees are required to re-sign/acknowledge the agreement regarding sexual harassment, boundaries, and fraternizing. And as a reminder, inappropriate conversations, instant message chats, and emails will not be tolerated—i.e., grounds for termination.
The memo goes on. And on.
“Do . . . do you think this has anything to do with that email I sent him last night?” I chew on my thumbnail nervously, a terrible habit I’ve always had.
Gen rolls her eyes and hands me her phone. “Of course it was about your email, dumbass. I dare you to re-read the email you sent him last night. And try not to piss yourself.”
Taking her phone, I focus my blurry eyes on the email in her sent folder and read, wanting to turtle in on myself with each sentence that stands out in my mind as utterly humiliating—which is most of them.
I work for you.
I have a hopeless, foolish crush on you when you are the last person on earth I should be crushing on.
For once, I want you to look at me as more than one of your employees.
I want to bang you so damn bad.
I sink into my chair, the shoulder pads of my dress reaching my ears.
“This is bad, isn’t it?”
Still twisting her hands in her lap, Gen says, “Well, as long as they can’t trace it back to you, you’re good, which will be virtually impossible since we didn’t use your name.” Virtually. Virtually impossible does not give me confidence.
“What about you? You created the email address.”
She shrugs. “Don’t worry about me. I have ways around all of that.”
Taking a deep breath, she says, “What’s important here is that we silence Kimberly and Viv, since they were there when you wrote it, and act as cool as possible.”
“Silence them? What are you, the mob?”
She shrugs. “You can never be too careful.”
“Genevieve.” I laugh, the action hurting my temples.
I cringe.
“I forgot about Viv and Kimberly, but we’re not going to silence them.”
“They gossip about everything. Which is why we need to make sure they don’t remember anything from last night.”
“You’re really scary right now. Knock it off, you weirdo.” Nonetheless, I sit up and right my suit dress, smoothing down the many wrinkles. “I’m going to grab some more coffee and swing by Viv’s desk. Will you check with Kimberly for me?”
“On it.” Standing, Gen turns to leave when she says, “What if”—she pauses and bites her bottom lip—“what if he writes you back?”
I laugh at the absurdity of the thought. Rome Blackburn emailing me back? As if. “Trust me, Gen, he’s not going to write back.” I snort. “That’s not anything we have to worry about. It’s never going to happen.”
Chapter Six
ROME
“What the hell was that memo about?” Hunter barges into my office without even knocking—not all that unusual, but still pretty damn obnoxious.
He has no fucking manners.
Frantically, I click out of my email inbox and adjust my tie, doing my best to appear normal, as opposed to the way I feel.
Disgusted.
Intrigued.
Casual and businesslike—that’s what I am—not someone trying to figure out who sent me the email. No fucking way. I won’t even dignify that piss-poor excuse for an email by giving it any more attention. Sure as hell haven’t been dissecting it, word for word, line by line.
This has nothing to do with me being turned on by it and everything to do with the welfare of the company. Not one fucking bit.
I cough.
Divert. “When are you going to learn to knock?”
Instead of being affronted, Hunter plops his ass down in the chair across from my desk and takes up his usual position: boots propped on the edge of my desk, hands behind head, brows raised, and mouth curved into a cocky smirk.
“Tell me what the deal is with that memo.”
I straighten an already straight stack of paperwork. Move a pen into place. Click my mouse.
My lips purse. I tap the desktop with an index finger. “Do you have the data for the beta testing done on the new tents? Why are you in here?”
“Pffh, nah.” He laughs. “Didn’t have time last night to put it in a spreadsheet. I was otherwise occupied.” Hunter wiggles his dark brows.
The holes in his jeans and the dark coffee stain on his plaid shirt—coupled with the work boots—break the dress code, and should have me sending him home to change, but right now I couldn’t care less.
“I need those beta tests, Hunter.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He waves me off. “I’ll get to them to you. Relax, man. Did someone get caught looking at porn?”