Mia and men. Problem? Of course. There was always a problem when it came to Mia and men. She didn’t know how to talk to them, how to have a normal, “let’s have a nice relationship” sort of talk. Although Gabby shouldn’t judge. She didn’t know how to have that talk either. Her relationships were fleeting, at best. Nonexistent, at worst.
When it came to the man department, she and Mia swung out every time.
She met Mia in the hallway of their elementary school. Third grade rearing its ugly head—in her eyes, anyway. She was new to the school. Not the best way to make friends by insulting her choice of dress, but Mia hadn’t seemed to care. She shyly smiled, pushed up her glasses that were too big for her face, and said, “Do you want to sit by me at lunch?” And as they say, the rest is history. Twenty years later, Mia’s suckering her into going undercover to see if her boyfriend was cheating on her.
Well, hoping to go undercover. There was no guarantee she would get the job. She’d have to use her wily skills of negotiation. She could do this. She would do this. Mia was depending on her to find the truth. That was her job. Finding out the truth. When it came to Mia, if she asked, she always came through for her. That’s just the kind of friend she was.
“Ms. Stileano, this way, please. Mr. Holloway will see you now,” an older lady with black as night hair—Gabby knew for sure she colored it recently to cover the gray, it was so bold—said with a nasally voice.
“It’s Stileano. Like Still-ano. Not Style-ano.” Gabby stood up with a bright smile. She hated it when people said her last name wrong. She always corrected them. Most people screwed it up, making her have to correct a lot of people. She always said it with a smile. It usually didn’t matter. People always took offense. It was her last name for goodness sake. She should be the one taking offense. Not the other way around.
Of course, in good order like it normally happened, the older woman took offense and pursed her lips in a thin line. “This way. Mr. Holloway is a busy man. He doesn’t have a lot of time.”
“Of course.”
They walked down a long hallway where they came to a set of double doors. The older woman pulled one open, walked through, and didn’t bother to hold the door open for her. She had to rush ahead a few steps to grab the door before it slammed in her face.
The fast movement made her stumble in her high heels. The damn things. She hated wearing high heels. Yet, she managed to stay upright and not fall flat on her ass. The last thing she needed to do was embarrass herself or sprain an ankle.
She told herself to let it go, to not let the woman get to her. If this didn’t matter so much to Mia, she would’ve marched right back out of this place. Judgmental bitch. What did she have to judge about her?
Was her outfit not professional enough? Did her pants have wrinkles from sitting so long? She swore she waited longer than she should’ve. She arrived ten minutes early because she hated being late for anything. Or maybe Miss I-dye-my-hair-terrible was having a bad day.
She would never work at a place where she’d have to deal with someone like this. Sure, she dealt with some unruly, uncaring coworkers at her other job, but she loved that job. She knew she wouldn’t love being a secretary. This would test her patience. She hated being a secretary at nineteen, and she didn’t think her opinion had changed at twenty-nine.
Think of Mia. This is all for Mia.
A desk sat to the left, clutter-free, except for a small computer on the corner and a container full of pens and pencils right next to it. Another plush black couch sat kitty-corner to the desk. A small table filled with several magazines and a nice orchid plant sat next to the couch. A few paintings adorned the walls that captivated her attention. She wasn’t into art, but she could appreciate fine art when she saw it. Most were of buildings at unique angles. One really caught her attention. Splashes of color, like someone took a brush, whipping an array of colors onto the canvas. It spoke to her. It felt like her life sometimes. Different colors, different directions. The splashes indicating the many derails life held for her.
God, when did she get so deep?
She smiled brightly when she saw the older woman standing by another set of double doors, her hands on her hips and the impatience clear on her face.
“As I said, Mr. Holloway is a busy man. Are you finished looking around?”
“By all means. I’ve been ready.” Gabby gestured at the door. If anyone should be pissed, it should be her. She was early and still had to wait over twenty minutes after her appointed time.
The woman knocked on the door. A loud booming voice from inside yelled, “Come in.”
The woman pulled the door open and stepped inside. “Mr. Holloway, Ms. Stileano to see you.”
“Send her in.”
The old lady smirked at Gabby as she walked by. She wanted to slap her silly for saying her last name wrong again. She knew she did it on purpose this time. Instead, she kept the smile on her face and thought of Mia. This was all for Mia.
“Ms. Stileano, have a seat,” Mr. Holloway said from behind a huge oak desk, waving a hand at the chair in front of it. He didn’t even look up from the stack of papers lying on his desk.
Gabby tried to keep the awe out of her eyes, and her jaw from hanging open. The view behind him was spectacular. New York City was a city worth sighing over any day. But sometimes, a view as magnificent as this needed extra time to take in and breathe in deeply. They weren’t even on the top floor, but she could see the Statue of Liberty in all its glory, the sparkling water shining with elegance all around it. What a view. She would do anything to have a view like this to appreciate every day.
“Have a seat. I don’t have all day, Ms. Stileano.”
She shook her head clear of that misguided detour of beauty just to land on his face. Mia was dating this guy. She was glad she chose a pantsuit over a skirt. She imagined her legs would’ve blushed from all the heat gushing straight between her legs. Did legs even blush? Was that possible? Because it sure felt possible right at this moment.
She knew Mia had a knack for picking out handsome guys, but damn! This man was perfection at its finest, from his stylish hair to his angular jaw that looked meant for kissing to his suit that fit him like a glove. Even though he was sitting comfortably in his chair, she could tell the suit fit him to perfection.
Not that she cared how well the suit fit him.
She took a few more steps before sinking into the chair. Another plush, comfortable chair that made her want to groan with satisfaction. And maybe a little from the piercing depths of his dark brown eyes that seemed to stare straight through her. Right down to her very soul.
“It’s Still-ano. Not Style-ano. And I apologize. The view from your office is amazing.” She pointed at the window as she tried to make up for her complete lack of decorum.
She needed him to turn toward the window. She needed some time to regain her composure. He was sex wrapped up into a nice delectable package with a beautiful red bow to tie it closed. Merry Christmas to her. Or not. He was Mia’s boyfriend.
That didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate the gorgeousness before her. It was totally okay to look. But no touching. He had brown hair, about as deep as his sharp brown eyes, combed to the right with a slight wave. It was short but long enough to tame with a comb. She was curious if she ran her hands through it if it would stick straight up or fall flat, resting into the same pattern he combed it into.