“I also wanted to say thank you for recommending me as Violet’s interim nanny. Now that I’m engaged, it’s been a godsend to have a less stressful job here.” Her cheeks turned red like they usually did when she was about to ask me for something. “I wanted to know if you could ask Mr. Parker if I could be her full-time nanny, since he’s been interviewing like three people a day and still hasn’t found one.”
“Why can’t you ask him yourself?”
She looked at me as if I’d grown two heads. “You’re kidding, right?”
I shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll consider it. You’ve done a great job so far.”
“Mr. Parker doesn’t consider anything—even the ties he wears, without asking you first,” she said. “Every time I tell him there’s someone on the line with a proposal, he asks me if you’ve read it first. None of the no-people ever go through.”
“Violet is a different matter, Cynthia.”
“No.” She shook her head. “She isn’t. And you know that whether you still work here or not, that he’ll ask you to give your opinion on his final choice anyway.”
He did mention that a few weeks ago. “Okay, I’ll let him know that he should consider you, but Violet has the final decision.”
“Thank you,” she said. “One last thing, Miss Lauren. Did I ever tell you that Mr. Parker found out about our betting pool?”
“No. Did he make you cancel it?”
“Not at all.” She smiled. “He joined in.”
Figures. “Good to know. Why are you telling me this?”
“Because he won.” She smiled as she headed to the door. “He said you’d last at least two years.” She wished me luck one last time before leaving the room.
I stopped by my desk and picked up a file box for Preston before walking to his office.
To my surprise, he wasn’t on his phone, and he wasn’t in the middle of a meeting. He was just sitting at his desk, glaring at nothing at all.
“Hey.” I stepped inside and shut the door. “What’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer. He looked me up and down as always, letting a smile cross his lips, but he didn’t let it stay.
“What’s going on, Miss Lauren?” he asked.
“Well, I have everything you need for your final meeting with Mr. Von Strum.” I set my box on his desk and pulled out a package of pens. “Make sure you take these when you go and not one of your over the top priced pens, as you know he hates displays of wealth. Also, make sure that you take him somewhere affordable for dinner.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
“Yes.” I pulled out a color-coded binder that read, The Do It Your Goddamn Self List. “I made this for you. I’ve taught Taylor quite a bit over the past few weeks, but I know it’s going to take him some time to truly get the hang of things, so whenever you feel like you need a second opinion or want something simple done, flip through here before you fire him, okay?”
He took it from me, but he didn’t say anything.
“I’ve placed additional copies in your desk and other places in the office you frequent,” I said, smiling. “Oh, and I want you to know that even though the first two years were hard for me, the last six weeks were amazing. I hope we can still see each other as much, even though we’ll be working separately, you know?”
“No, I don’t know,” he said. “I wish I could say I felt the same about you, but I don’t. And after you walk out of my office today, I don’t want to see you again.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I don’t want to expose Violet to your traitorous behavior.”
“Is this some type of walk down memory lane thing?” I smiled. “There’s definitely a chocolate drop in your coffee, and I’ve told Taylor countless times how particular you are about getting it at the right temperature.”
“This is not about a chocolate drop,” he said, his voice terse. “This is about you fucking betraying me on every level possible.”
“Preston, what are you talking about?”
“You told me your top two choices for your next job were LimeCorps and Tate-Hills. You said that after working at either of those for a year, that you were going to work for yourself. You didn’t say shit about Marriott.”
I sighed. I was saving this conversation for tonight over dinner.
“Do you have any idea how messed up this is?” he said, glaring at me.
“It’s only a one-year interim position,” I said. “Their offer was the best out of the three, and I was definitely going to tell you.”
“When? On your first fucking day?”
“Preston …”
“Of all the places in this city to choose to go to after working for me, surely you can see that this as a conflict of interest personally and professionally.” He was talking so loudly that I couldn’t get a word in. “You’ve just quit the number one luxury hotel brand to work at the number two luxury hotel brand. You were my right hand, my confidant, my everything.” He slammed his fist on the table. “What do you think that board of directors is thinking about their competition right now after hiring you?”
“You’ve always said they’re not your competition.”
“They’re not.” He stood to his feet. “To me, anyway. I am to them. Don’t you think they’ll ask you questions about everything you’ve learned here over the past two years?”
“I’m acting as a general counsel. I won’t be involved with the CEO’s day to day decisions, and I’m only there to get some additional experience in running a company. A different company,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “And if you must know, I happen to like working in the hotel industry.”
“Then you can stay here and do that shit.” He hissed. “I told you I’d give you anything you wanted to stay. Anything.”
“With all due respect, I need to learn all the different layers of the industry, and I need to learn from another type of leadership. I can’t work under you anymore, in any capacity. I didn’t think that—”
“You didn’t think at all.” He cut me off. “If you’d told me you were even considering applying there, I would’ve told you that the CEO is a liar and whatever he promised you won’t happen. I would’ve also told you that there’s no way I’m going to continue dating you and sleeping with you at night, while you’re talking to him every damn day.”
“I really wish you would give me a chance to explain,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “This isn’t what you think it is, and I’ve done my due diligence to make sure that there isn’t a conflict of interest.”
“It was a conflict of interest the moment you took an interview with them and didn’t tell me,” he said, clenching his jaw. “Get the hell out of my office. Now.”
“Excuse me?”
“Get the hell out of my office,” he repeated the words, harsher this time. “Surely you have an office at Marriott where you can waste your breath and talk about all the things you didn’t think about. I’ve heard enough.”