“Alex, pay attention!” Niall shouts, and I find myself staring at my silver pen instead of engaging with him.
My focus was elsewhere; I couldn’t stop thinking about Nina.
“I’m listening, Niall,” I reply quietly, meeting his gaze.
“You need to drop out of school. The company requires your full attention, especially since December is a hectic month,” he insists, and I agree with a nod.
“I will,” I say, fidgeting with my pen again.
“I’m serious,” he retorts, and I return his look.
“Me too,” I respond, and he folds his arms.
“Alex, you’ve already let a four-million-dollar contract slip away. Don’t jeopardize any more opportunities,” he advises, and I nod.
“I won’t,” I assure him, though he scoffs.
“As you wish. But if you miss another meeting because of her, I’m done,” he warns, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Niall, I won’t miss another meeting,” I promise. He sighs and nods, then stands.
“Remember, you have another meeting in an hour. It’s crucial that you get back to the Alex you used to be; we need these contracts signed to potentially double our profits,” he says, and I nod in understanding.
“Got it,” I reply as he exits my office.
I play with my pen for a few moments before deciding to put it in my breast pocket, but I hesitate. When I pull out the fabric, I realize it’s Nina’s underwear, which makes me smile. I can’t resist inhaling her scent. Damn, I really need this.
Looking at the paperwork scattered before me, I let out a sigh. I have to get this done, but I also need more time with Nina. Early morning work isn’t enough anymore. It’s clear I need to leave school behind.
I pick up the office phone and call my new secretary.
“How may I assist you, Mr. Gray?”
“Hope, could you please inform Oakwood High School that I can no longer fulfill my teaching duties? This time, it’s final. Thank you,” I say before hanging up.
I dive into the contracts, managing to finish three before heading to my next meeting. It takes me thirty minutes to return to my office, where I find the best surprise of my day:
“Hey,” Nina greets from her seat. I smile and fold my arms.
“Come in, have a seat,” I say. She playfully puts her feet on my desk, giving me a glimpse of her white panties. “How can I help you?”
I chuckle as I shake my head.
“Alex, I need those contracts by tomorrow at the latest. It’s crucial since more than half expire then, and we could end up in trouble,” Niall chimes in as he enters the office. He glances at Nina, who quickly moves her feet down, and I can see his jaw tense.
“Hello,” she says sweetly, and I can’t help but smile.
“Alex, if you don’t finish by seven tomorrow morning, you’ll risk bankruptcy,” Niall growls. I nod, knowing he’s only saying this because he cares about both the company and me.
“I’ll get it done, I promise,” I reply. Niall storms off angrily, and I shut the door behind him, exhaling as I watch Nina prop her feet back on the desk and start fiddling with the contracts.
“Be careful with those,” I warn.
“Is this the work you need to sign?” she asks, and I nod.
“It’s a lot; I think you’ll need my help,” I say, wearing a sarcastic expression as I sit in front of him. She grimaces.
“It’s a week’s work, and I need it done by seven tomorrow morning,” I joke, and she responds with a silly face.
“I’ll help,” she whispers, but I shake my head, laughing quietly.
She picks up one of my contracts and begins reading it.
“Baby, I’m sorry if this offends you, but you’re 17. I’d have to explain every detail to you to…”
“UB Inc. is offering you half a million dollars for a three-month contract, and they want you to include the photographer, editor, and production for the manufactured products,” she reads, then looks up at me, her brow furrowed in concern.
“Is this a good deal?” she asks, her eyes searching mine.
“I’ve skimmed it, but haven’t seen anything alarming,” I reply. “They assure you that if the project goes well, you can sign for more time and money,” she says with a shrug as I take the contract from her.
“It’s a five-page contract,” I remark, and she rolls her eyes.
“If you don’t believe me, read it yourself,” she challenges, and so I do. And she’s absolutely right.
“How did you manage to figure this out?” I ask, bewildered at her insight. She stammers slightly.
“Let’s just say my mother taught me to read very well,” she laughs as she rises to sit on my lap. “I’ll teach you,” she says, grabbing another contract from the stack. “You usually read from left to right, right?” she asks and I nod. “I don’t,” she whispers, and I look at her in confusion. “I read from the middle,” she explains.
“Why?”
“Look at the center of the page, Alex,” she directs calmly. I obey. “You see all the letters, but you focus on the ones in the center. With practice, you can learn to see them all and read faster,” she claims. “With 17 years of practice, you can memorize every word, on every line, in every paragraph, on every page.” She beams with pride, but I simply roll my eyes.
“That sounds great, but it’s impossible,” I counter, and she raises her eyebrows.
She grabs the contract I was holding and starts reading, flipping pages every ten seconds. Once finished, she hands it to me.
“Ask me anything,” she challenges, and I raise an eyebrow.
“Page five, paragraph two, line three?” I inquire, and she smiles confidently.
“For every dozen products sold, your company will receive 2% of our profits if…” she recites, making me gulp. “It’s not a good deal if you read the full context,” she critiques. “A contract for 250, 000 and 2% profit on every dozen sold they want thousands of products? I think you can find better offers,” she concludes, crossing her arms.
“Help me,” I plead, and she scrunches her nose.
“I will, but only if we do it my way,” she says, walking back toward my chair. “I have some rules, Mr. Gray,” she begins, crossing her legs.
“I think we can negotiate, Miss Moore,” I murmur, resting my elbows on my desk.
“Okay, these are my conditions,” she states. “If you, Mr. Gray, agree: stop waking up at three in the morning every day to read and sign contracts, which only leaves you four hours of sleep; stop neglecting work to be with Miss Moore; refrain from giving gifts exceeding 40 to Miss Moore; resign from the teaching position, as it’s wasting your valuable time; and this chair is mine now,” she declares. I can’t help but smile broadly.
“I think we can negotiate about the gifts and the chair,” I reply, and she crosses her arms defiantly.
“This chair is very comfortable,” I remark, and she puts her feet back on my desk, crossing her legs.
“I know,” she smirks, glancing at me.
“I can’t agree to the gift limit,” I say, and she exhales dramatically.
“Then there’s no deal.”