Page 4 of Player CEO (Billionaire Secrets #4)
Theo
My last appointment for the day has finished. Now I can relax. TGIF! This week has been hell. How Rhys does this every day is beyond me. I hate this job and can’t wait for him to return.
“Everyone’s cleared out,” Mackenzie announces, her voice breaking the stillness. “Time to start your weekend.”
I glance at the clock, the hands accusing me of losing time again. “What a week.”
“Fourteen appointments today,” she states matter-of-factly. “You must be exhausted.”
“Fourteen…” I murmur. Jeez, it’s all a blur . I motion toward one of the leather chairs. “Sit down,” I suggest as I cross over to the bar tucked away in the corner. “I remember you like bourbon,” I call over my shoulder, reaching for a crystal decanter. “Care for a glass?”
She hesitates a moment. “Sure,” she finally replies.
I pour two fingers of bourbon into two glasses. They’re Justin’s that Crystal gave him one year. I want them to be used while he’s away. Keeps him close somehow. Turning back to Mackenzie, I hand her a drink, and our fingers brush, hers cool and precise, mine suddenly clumsy.
“Thanks,” she says, taking a small sip.
“Any plans for tonight?” I ask, leaning back against the edge of the desk, trying to steer us toward safe conversational territory.
She nods. “I’ve got a late flight to Los Angeles.”
“Back home, huh? What’s on the agenda?”
“Few things that need sorting out,” she replies, looking away. “Family stuff.”
“Right, of course.” Her father is a bigwig in the entertainment industry. I stalked her on social media when she first arrived, and she often used to be her father’s date to red carpet events. She looked incredible in every picture I saw.
We talk for a while longer, the office growing dimmer as shadows stretch across the room. My mind wanders to Rhys on his honeymoon. He’ll be back in another three weeks, just in time for the board meeting, a meeting that wouldn’t be happening without Mackenzie’s meticulous planning.
“Rhys will be back.” I swirl my drink. “Board meeting’s going to be a big one, considering all that’s happened.”
The last quarter has been busy as Austin got several million dollars from Maloney Chemical as a refund for overbilling us. More than that, though, learning that we were not actually communicating with Justin at any point since his disappearance will be a big topic of conversation with the board. I’m not sure where they’ll want us to go from here.
Mackenzie nods. “It should go smoothly.” Her voice sounds calm, but I can hear something else underneath. Pride? Excitement?
“Couldn’t do it without you,” I say, and I mean it. She’s the linchpin holding everything together.
“Thanks,” she replies.
For a moment, we sit, two co-workers quiet after a long week, each thinking our own thoughts as the sun sets behind the city outside my office window.
“This job’s a lot harder than I thought,” I confess, leaning back at my desk. There is so much paper littered everywhere, and so much to do. How did the others do it?
“You’re doing great,” she says, taking another sip of her bourbon. “I liked what you did with Nissan today. They were dangling Chinese electric vehicle batteries, and you were quick with the statistics. They know they’re more expensive in the long run, but they didn’t think we knew. That was very well played.”
I let out a dry chuckle. “That’s the easy stuff.” It’s the truth, but I wonder if she sees through to the layers beneath—the unending negotiations, the strategy, the pressure. Easy is relative.
I swivel my glass, watching as the bourbon coats the sides in a slow, golden descent. “The truth is…” I hesitate, wondering if I’m revealing too much “This job has outgrown what one person can manage.” I meet Mackenzie’s gaze, searching for understanding. “Austin and I were talking, and we agree we need to devise a strategy to spread out the workload.”
Mackenzie nods, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “I hope you’ll consider me for some of that work,” she says after a moment.
Her words catch me off guard. I’ve always seen Mackenzie as indispensable in her current role, not someone looking for change. “Why would you want to do anything other than be executive admin to the CEO? You’re the most powerful person in the company, and your position is crucial. You’re far too important to be relegated to busy work.”
Her eyes darken, a storm brewing in their depths. I’ve struck a nerve without meaning to. Why do I do that? She sits up straight and throws her shoulders back. “If controlling your calendar is powerful, then I want to do more. I have an MBA from USC. I didn’t go to school to be support staff,” she says, her voice low, almost wounded.
My mouth drops open. I see how amazing she is, but I thought her dreams fit inside this room. Her lips purse, and her face turns bright red. Boy, was I wrong. She’s smart enough to do much more than office work, but I can’t picture this place without her here. “Mackenzie, I—”
But she cuts me off with a wave of her hand and stands, setting her glass on the side table. “Understood,” she says. And with that, she strides toward the door, where she stops and turns to look at me. “I’ll be at the office on Sunday afternoon. There are a few things I’d like to get ahead on.”
“Mackenzie, you don’t need to do that,” I counter. “Nothing’s so pressing that it can’t wait until Monday.”
Her posture stiffens. “I know what my work requires,” she says, her voice crisp. “I don’t need to be told when or how to manage my responsibilities.”
I straighten up. I keep making it worse. It was meant to be a gesture of concern, but the words have landed all wrong. “I didn’t mean—”
“No,” she interrupts, her eyes now meeting mine with an intensity that pins me in place. “I think you did mean it. And it feels condescending—as if you think you need to remind me not to work too hard. Your day runs because of the work I put into your schedule.”
“Kenzie, that’s not what I—”
But she’s already moving, her strides confident as she heads out. “It’s Ma -kenzie. Please respect my desire for you to call me by my entire name.”
“I’m sorry.” I follow after her, feeling a little desperate now. Whatever I say or do upsets her.
“Enjoy your weekend.” Her voice is cool, detached. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Wait,” I call, but she doesn’t pause, doesn’t look back. The door closes behind her with a soft click, and suddenly the office feels colder, emptier.
I’m standing alone, the taste of bourbon on my tongue, but my stomach feels heavy. How have I managed to make things worse?