SEXY FILTHY BOSS (White Collar Brothers #1)

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Enzo

I stare down at the replacement assistant. Ann, Erin, or something. She blows the dark hair falling down over her forehead from her eyes and glares at me.

She has a backbone, I’ll give her that.

“Sorry, Annie,” the male assistant whose desk is near my office says. He’s always eavesdropping on my conversations and thinks I don’t know.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Mancini, I’ll be right in your office with your files,” the replacement says.

I cross my arms. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your party.”

“Oh no, we were just, um… I was sharing some good news with my friends.” Her cheeks redden. It’s a cute look for her. Innocent and pleasing. I wouldn’t mind seeing that same look on her face when she’s on her knees, sucking me.

My forehead creases in irritation as I reprimand myself. My line of thinking isn’t appropriate, and I’ve never thought anything like that about someone who works for me. Even when that blonde with the breast and butt implants was my assistant.

But this woman’s not my assistant. I’m simply borrowing her from Ted Beardsman. I’m sure she doesn’t get enough work from that guy to keep her busy anyway.

“That’s what five o’clock down at Blarneys is for.” I turn but stop at the door. “Three minutes, Erin.”

The guy scoffs and I’m guessing I got her name wrong, but she’s temporary, so what does it matter as long as she does what I need her to.

Heading into my office, I look at the assistant’s desk. At least the girl I fired took her plant with her. Thank f**k. She kept going on and on about how it’s aloe and if I wanted, I could rip a section off and run it along my skin. Did she not realize this is an ad company, not a massage parlor?

My phone vibrates on my desk, and I hurry to grab it, figuring out too late it’s Carm. “What?”

“Nice way to answer the phone for your younger brother, dickwad.”

I sit down, my attention on my computer screen, clicking through the slides. “I’m busy. I’ve got a presentation in about an hour and my assistant just quit.”

He laughs. Of course he does. Carm would have to flick his assistants off like leeches because he treats them too nicely. Once, he gave an assistant a purse he’d noticed her admiring at an open house. ‘Course, he was probably f*****g her. He denied it, but everyone knows Carm lies about stupid s**t like that.

“This the one you could make partner with?”

“Don’t jinx it.” I click through the rest of the slides. “Why are you calling me?”

“I set up a basketball game for tomorrow.”

“Cool.”

“We’re playing at the rec center by Ma’s.”

“What? Why aren’t we playing here in Manhattan?”

“Because the team we’re playing is in Brooklyn. I figured I’d hear no complaints from the rest of you. We’re going to get our championship back.”

I rub my hands together. “Why didn’t you start with that? How are you a successful real estate broker?”

“It’s called closing the deal.”

“Piss off.”

A knock sounds on my glass door.

“Gotta go.” I click off on the phone and wave in the temp.

“Here you go, Mr. Mancini. What else did you need?” She pulls out her pad and pen. “I don’t know where Denise was with everything.”

“Denise?”

Her jaw tenses but loosens immediately. Doesn’t matter, I’ve already read her body language. “Your previous assistant.”

“Oh yeah. My assumption is that her notes are on her desk, but I’m fairly sure she’s done nothing.” I stare at the screen in front of me. The words are perfect, and this presentation is the best I’ve done on something family related. How I got chosen for an ad campaign geared toward families who buy diapers, I haven’t a clue, but if I can sign this client, I’m a shoo-in for partner.

“I’ll go check and I, um…” She straightens her back. False bravado. “I have to leave at four.” She swivels on her heels to leave.

“Nope. I need you in the room to take notes for me.”

Her fake smile falters, and a look I’m used to getting from my assistants transforms her face. No longer are those cheeks slightly pink with a flush. Her eyes are shooting red and her muscles tense. “I am doing this as a favor. I had planned to have the afternoon off since Mr. Beardsman is off too. I’m helping because you’re in a bind. I don’t sit in on Mr. Beardsman’s meetings, so I don’t see why I would sit in on yours.”

If I didn’t love Teddy, I’d tell his assistant she doesn’t sit in because he keeps her at arm’s length on purpose. I may not hold my assistant’s hand through preparation of my presentations, or even allow any input from them, but they’ve all sat through pitches. They’ve seen the good, the bad—hell, one of them saw me practically beg once at the beginning of my career.

I sit up straighter. “I’m curious, Miss…?”

“Stewart. Annie Stewart.” Her jaw tics.

“Miss Stewart, other than having dance parties in the break room, I assume you must value your job. My other assumption is you’re not interested in being an assistant forever, otherwise you would have told Shelby to shove it and hopped on that elevator, to hell with the consequences.”

Her eyes fixate on my steepled fingers.

“Watching me pitch to what could be our biggest client is a huge opportunity for your career. You’re willing to let that go for some primping before your Friday night date?”

Her chest rises and falls, her gaze meeting mine. “Of course, you’re right. I’d be happy to sit in on the pitch.”

“Would you like to have dinner after?” I ask.

She huffs and turns around to leave.

I chuckle. “A celebratory dinner with the clients, of course.”

She turns back to face me and swallows. I’m unsure why I’m enjoying this. I shouldn’t. She’s right, she did me a favor by sticking around. Although since she’s Teddy’s assistant, I don’t hold out hope she’s worth much as far as talent. I’ll probably be leading her the entire way this afternoon.

“That would be great. Thank you, Mr. Mancini.”

“Enzo.”

Her eyes widen a fraction of an inch, but I catch it.

“Call me Enzo.”

“Then feel free to call me Annie, not Erin.”

“We’re not equals here, Miss Stewart. Better to remember that.”

She blinks but doesn’t say anything, leaving my office while probably wishing she could slam the door.

Once again, rather than annoying, I find her amusing for some reason.

I step into the boardroom at three thirty and color me impressed. Trays of refreshments have been set in the middle of the table. Each chair setting has a bottle of water from a brand we handle the advertising for. Each person’s packet has been printed and set in front of each chair.

I straighten my suit jacket and smooth out my tie while I soak in the room. Maybe I was wrong about Miss Stewart. I straighten a few of the binders. “Nice.”

“I already had the tech department come in, and everything is set for you when you’re ready to present.” She signals to my computer and the white screen in front of the oval table.

“Thank you.”

A buzz rings from the phone in the room. “Annie, the clients are here,” Elise from reception says through the intercom.

She smiles at me, straightening her dress. “I’ll be back.”

I say nothing as she walks out of the room. I could compliment her on a job well done thus far, but right now, it’s her plump ass in her tight pencil skirt I’d like to compliment.

Damn it. She needs to go back to work under Teddy, pronto.

I stare at the New York skyline, hands in my pockets, while I wait. You got this. You’re Lorenzo Mancini. The best in this biz.

“Mr. Mancini,” Annie interrupts my mental pep talk, the one I do before every pitch.

I straighten my tie and turn around. I make sure to make eye contact with each of them and give them a big, toothy smile with my newly whitened teeth. Holding my hand, I break the distance. “Nice to see you all again.”

We all shake hands and say our hellos and Billy from the art department joins us before they each find a spot at the table.

“Miss Stewart will be assisting me today, so if you need anything, she’ll be happy to help.” I approach the head of the table as our owner, Mr. Jacobson, pulls out a chair for Annie and she smiles, sitting down.

“I can’t wait to hear what you have for us, Enzo.” Mr. Peterson, the President of Coddle, says.

I nod. This is the first time I’ve been nervous in years.

“First of all, we decided to go a more comedic than heartfelt route. We focused more on dads and the ease…” Once I start the spiel I’ve practiced for the past week, the tension lifts off my shoulders and I’m in the zone. I run my hands over one another, confident in the campaign I put together.

I don’t even have to motion for Miss Stewart to turn off the lights. She must have read my proposal and knew just when to do it.

As I lean against the ledge along the window, watching the short film Billy in creative put together, I’m feeling good. It’s funny and every dad will love it. The last line comes on along the bottom of the screen over an image of a sleeping father and an infant wearing only a diaper… Fatherproof.

The lights slowly come to life so that no one has to blink and see stars. Good thought on Miss Stewart’s part.

Mr. Jacobson gives me a thumbs-up, but I turn my attention to Bill Peterson. He’s the decision-maker.

“Well, it was okay… do you have anything else?” he asks, his attention going to the woman across from him.

I glance at Billy to my right. “We had a few other ideas, but none as great as this one.”

Mr. Peterson’s silence tells me I didn’t hit this out of the park.

“Give us a few days to think it over.” He grabs the binder from the table.

Mr. Jacobson widens his eyes because we both know that if Mr. Peterson leaves, he’ll end up somewhere else.

“Mr. Peterson”—I slide the chair out next to him and take a seat—“clearly you don’t love it.”

He leans back in his seat, steepling his fingers in front of him. “We usually prefer to go the more emotional route, tug at the heartstrings.”

“Isn’t that what all diaper companies do? With something like this, you’ll stand out.” I glance at the woman who was introduced as his daughter earlier. I noticed Mr. Peterson glancing over to her while the video was rolling, gauging her reaction so she must have some say.

“Blair, right?” I ask.

She nods.

Inching my hand up the table, I grab my pen and search for something to write on.

“Here you go.” A pad of paper slides across the table.

I thank Miss Stewart with a nod. She doesn’t smile.

“Give me five words,” I say to Blair.

“What will that do?” she asks.

I wave. “Five words you want to see in your commercial. Not the actual word but the feelings or actions. For example, love, crying…”

She glances at her father. “Really, Enzo, I think we have enough information. Let us think this one over.”

Mr. Jacobson shakes his head.

My blood pressure rises, and I feel the blood pulsing in my neck. I have no doubt that everyone at this table can probably see it.

“Are you looking for just a mother in the commercial?” Even I hear the panic in my voice. Calm down.

“Or are you looking for a shared moment between parents?” Annie chimes in.

I really don’t need her input, but Blair’s eyes light up and she grants Annie all her attention.

“Like how?” I ask, drawing her attention back my way.

“You figure babies bring people together. A couple doesn’t have to be married or even like one another to smile at their baby with one another. Families come together when a baby is born. It’s magical when a new life is brought into the world.” I swear Annie’s eyes are tearing up.

Blair points at her. “Exactly.” She looks back my way. “That’s what we want, what she just said.”

“A family? You’re in luck, I come from a big Italian family. I know all about family. Give us a couple weeks and we’ll have a whole new campaign ready for you.” I slide out from the table, offering my hand to Blair Peterson.

She stands and nods to her father, shaking my hand.

“Will she be on your team?” Bill Peterson asks.

Mr. Jacobson smiles at Annie and back at me. “I’ll make certain of it,” he answers before I can say that she’s an assistant. And not even my own.

“Great. It’s been a pleasure.”

“I’ll see you out.” Annie walks Mr. Peterson, his daughter, and the rest of his people out of the room and Mr. Jacobson joins them.

I slump down in the chair, Billy across from me.

“I don’t get it,” I say.

“She kind of saved our asses.” Billy stands.

She returns, standing in the doorway.

“Thanks, Annie.” Billy pats her on the back on his way out.

“Have a great weekend, Mr. Mancini.” She smiles and leaves the conference room.

I don’t bother mentioning the celebratory dinner we were supposed to be having. There’s not much to celebrate at the moment unless you count being upstaged by an assistant.