Page 5 of Sweeter than Honey
I put on my headset and turn on my desktop computer. I start to review my calendar and email inbox, scanning for urgent messages.
A few minutes later, there’s a chime on my headset. “Sunset,” whispers the voice of the receptionist. “She’s up.”
The click-click sound of high heels on the marble floor confirms it. I turn my chair slightly out toward the hallway, and find myself unconsciously tucking my hair behind my ear and arranging my face into an expression of professional efficiency and deference.
“Good evening, Lily,” says a crisp, commanding voice.
A year and a half of working here, but that strange flutter in my stomach hasn’t gone away.
“Good evening, Ms. Espina,” I reply, turning to meet her gaze.
The woman standing before my desk is the epitome of glamour and professionalism. She towers on pointed violet heels, wearing an immaculate pant suit of rich aubergine, its plunging neckline revealing a soft silk blouse beneath it. Her black hair is cut in a perfect line at her jaw, angling subtly downward to accentuate her sharp, angular features. Two pearl earrings dangle from her ears. Her olive skin is completely flawless, and her dark brown eyes are beautifully complemented by the aubergine shade of her suit, so they appear even more rich than they usually are.
How does she possibly get herself ready so quickly after sunset? It took me at least an hour to get out the door today, and I’m sure I look considerably less put-together in my baby blue pencil skirt and cardigan.
“Lily, how often do I have to ask you to call me Renata?” she says, in a tone balanced exactly between playful and professional.
As always, I err on the side of professional.
“Oh, I couldn’t, Ms. Espina,” I reply, although there’s a fuzzy feeling in my chest every time she asks me.
“Well, whatever you’re comfortable with,” she responds primly.
“I’ve arranged a donor for tonight,” I tell her. “She’s waiting inside. Her name is Chelsie, blood type O negative.”
“Excellent, thank you,” says the CEO, taking a step toward my desk. “In the meantime, I’d like you to prepare the agenda for my first meeting, with Xavian Night.”
“It’s already done, Ms. Espina,” I reply, reaching for the shining black file in my drawer. “I’ve compiled a comprehensive overview of his past legal business dealings, and I consulted with Damien Cross and Amrita Vyas regarding his…other affiliations. I included a summary of their responses in the appendix, as I thought that would be prudent.”
Renata takes the file in her manicured hand and flips through it, her eyes moving with supernatural speed and intensity.
“Very helpful, Lily,” she says. “I have my own reservations about Xavian, and it appears I’m not alone in my opinion. I appreciate your foresight to include Damien and Amrita’s comments.”
“My pleasure,” I reply, my cheeks flushing warmly at her compliment. “Is there anything else I can do, Ms. Espina?”
She sighs deeply. “We’ve had another wedding reservation, it’s last-minute, but the budget is too high to pass on. Review the details on the reservation. It’s July 18th.”
“July?” I reply, before I can stop myself. That’s only a month away. “I…I mean, of course, I’ll take a look at the details and will ensure that everything’s being taken care of.”
“It’s tight,” she says with a knowing frown. “And it’s terrible timing. We’re understaffed as it is and everyone takes vacation in the summer.”
“We’ll take care of it,” I respond optimistically. “Don’t worry about a thing, Ms. Espina.”
“What would I do without you, Lily?” she flashes me a smile, and my stomach does another flip. Then she disappears into her office.
My eyes linger on the closed door for a moment. I keep picturing Chelsie, perched eagerly on the edge of the couch in the office. I can’t help thinking that my blood type is also O negative, although of course I would never volunteer myself in such a way. Chelsie is a concierge, and she doesn’t interact very much with the C-suiteexecutive of the hotel. Obviously, as the executive assistant, it would be completely unprofessional for me to volunteer myself. I’m glad that Chelsie was willing to step in (more than willing, it seems). But there’s still a strange twist in my stomach at the thought.
I try to shake it off as I turn back to my computer screen. There’s far too much to do, and I’m behind as it is. I need to find someone to cover Chelsie at the concierge, then I need to confirm the other blood donor was compensated, not to mention double-checking the arrangements for Mrs. Harrigan and the couple she displaced…
I lose myself in work, until the door opens again and Chelsie steps out. She has a goofy, dazed expression of pleasure on her face.
“How are you doing?” I ask her. “I’ll order a driver to send you home. But first, you’re welcome to eat something at the lounge.”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she says in a sing-song voice. “More than fine! I’ll head home right away, if you know what I mean.”
She winks at me. I try not to think about what she means, and I click my headset to order the driver.
“They’ll meet you at the hotel entrance,” I tell her. “Do you need me to walk you up?”