Page 1 of Not Safe for Work
Chapter One
The very last thing she wanted to do was show Abel Hernandez—new CFO of Hartford Industries—around. But when Hartford wanted something, Hartford got it. He snapped his fingers and she came into work on a Saturday morning, welcoming smile in place, itinerary on her iPad, every bit of her polished and coiffed.
Nobody in the world would ever know she was irritated. The only thing they would see was a consummate professional, she knew. She even prided herself on it at times like this. It was gratifying to have Abel offer her a businesslike handshake, and an expression that said he found her correct in every possible way.
Or at least, she thought that was what his expression said.
But then he leaned in just as she went to pull her hand free of his, and said in a voice as smooth and warm as molten syrup, “You really don’t have to pretend that you’re happy about losing your weekend.”
And suddenly she wasn’t sure what to think. She stepped back so she could get a good look at his face. But his face told her very little. He didn’t seem annoyed, or even like he was making fun of her. His dark eyes were free from mischief, and there was no smirk on his curl of a mouth.
If anything, he seemed pleased, somehow.
Like she’d done something super professional, instead of the opposite.
Even though she suspected professional was not high on his list of pleasing things. Not like Hartford, who almost smiled when someone delivered a presentation without a single typo, or nodded his head just a little any time he saw you following the rules to the letter. No, this guy was different.
And not just in terms of his attitude toward working weekends.
She could see it in his dress—a V-neck sweater over a shirt, instead of a suit. Stylish, but not the rigid, stuffy look that Hartford favored. And then there was his hair, all thick black curls that seemed far too messy for someone like Hartford to approve of. It was the type of thing she might have seen in a Vogue spread about rugged outdoorsmen.
Not something she expected from the new CFO.
In fact, it made her wonder how Hartford and Abel were even friends.
And that feeling only increased when he carried on talking.
“Don’t worry, I promise not to take up too much of your free time,” he said, as if he truly believed free time was a thing. He even seemed to know what people were supposed to do with it. “On a day like this you should be sunning yourself on a veranda and drinking something with twenty fruits in it and a lot of alcohol.”
She was so unused to comments like that she couldn’t properly reply.
Instead she stood frozen for a second, then just blurted words out.
“I don’t really drink alcohol. Or anything with fruit in it.”
“Ah, so you’re more of frozen latte sort of woman then?”
“No, actually. I hate coffee, too.”
“Well whatever summery drink you prefer, you will soon have it. I have absolutely no intention of keeping you longer than is strictly necessary.”
She winced, then. Somehow she kept contradicting him.
And now she was going to have to do it again.
“Actually, the tour I had planned will take at least two days.”
“I really don’t think we need two days, Ms. Elliot. All I require are the directions to my office, and maybe the bathrooms.”
“But I have presentations on personnel and operations, amongst other things.”
She tapped her iPad, intending to bring up the itinerary.
Only to have him stop her with a wave of his hand.
“Ms Elliot, I can assure you I am already very aware of the inner workings of this company. In fact, it has been my life for the better part of three months.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to imply that you don’t know your job, Mr. Hernandez, I—”
