Chapter 2 Don't call him Mackenzie

"That was terrible. Thank God no one else saw."

She held in her giggle. "I would have helped you before I started laughing."

"At least you would have responded. Mr. Craft barely noticed me sprawled out on the floor, let alone offered to help."

"Hence, he's an asshole. He even glared at Gary when he didn't call him by his last name. I don't know how they became business partners."

I'd made that mistake before. Talk about if looks could kill. I was only complimenting him on his marketing strategy. Now, I leave my opinions to myself unless he asks for them. Which was rare, and hardly ever taken seriously.

She snickered before she spoke. "Although, if I were in a power house marketing position, I probably wouldn't like to be called Mackenzie either."

"Well, the one time I called him by his first name, I said Mack. Maybe he got so pissed off because I didn't use the full version."

"I think Mack is a pretty masculine name," Timothy offered. He wasn't one to gossip or talk negatively about anyone.

Mindy ignored Timothy and leaned into the marble countertop. "You'd think maybe he was so uptight because he doesn't get laid, but you and I both know that's not true."

Timothy's toast popped from the toaster. His face was as red as the strawberry jam he was dipping his knife into. "The ladies do tend to flock toward him."

I laughed under my breath. When I interned, he'd slept with the three other girls I'd been working with, dismissing them all with ease. He'd demand that they stay late and help him with a project. They all jumped and were eager to spread their legs. Fortunately, I never went up to the plate for that.

I swallowed, proud I'd never slept with him, yet, at the same time, offended by how I didn't meet up to his standards. The coffee was dripping into the cup now, nearly done filling. Good thing, considering I only had five more minutes before Mr. Grumpy Pants arrived.

A smirk play on my lips. "Maybe I should call him Mackenzie from now on, just to piss him off."

Mindy snickered. "Hard to piss someone off who is already mad all of the time."

A throat cleared from the doorway, startling us both. So much that when I jerked, my hand caught the edge of the coffee pot, burning the sensitive skin on the inside of my thumb.

I held my breath, shaking my hand as if that would help to rid it from stinging.

Mindy offered a sideways smile. "Good morning, Mr. Craft." He knew she hated him, and he knew his opinion of her wouldn't affect his partner's decision to keep her as a secretary.

Those cold, blue eyes passed from Mindy to me, then to Timothy, who was holding his knife with jam in midair, a firm jaw set in place as if it were stone.

He wore a light blue button-up and a gray tie, causing his baby blues to pop out even more than they already did. "Glad to see we are working hard," Mr. Craft grimaced.

Timothy quickly tossed his knife in the dishwasher and topped the cap to the jelly, almost dropping it three times in the process. Craft looked unimpressed with poor Timothy.

He grabbed his toast and bolted to the door. "I'll be on my way. See you at 2:30, Mr. Craft."

Craft didn't respond, only straightened his tie, removing his focus from Timothy to take long strides toward me. "I need the notes for the backpack campaign."

His bluntness wasn't new to me. "Already on your desk."

"And the Power Point presentation?"

I tried to refrain from scowling. "When do you need it by?"

He examined my face, his jaw tightening, then let out a heavy breath through his nostrils. It tickled my cheek, and if he didn't look so pissed off, I would have thought it felt nice.

"We'll go over it at noon."

"She has to eat, Craft," Mindy grumbled, not bothering to scurry away at his presence just as Timothy had.

Mr. Craft clenched his jaw. "I think you've had enough of a social hour this morning to make up for lunch. I'll see you at noon. With the power point presentation."

Grabbing his coffee from under the machine, he took a sip. His brows furrowed in disgust. "I knew I should have stopped to get my own," he muttered.

I narrowed my brows at him, but bit my tongue. Sometimes I wondered if he baited me on purpose, trying to get a rise out of me so he had an excuse to fire me. Finally, he turned on his heel and strutted out the door, not bothering to look Mindy's way.

"What an asshole," she huffed, stomping toward me. "Is your hand okay?"

I nodded, refraining from complaining about how big of a jerk he was.

"I'll text you in-between slides," I sighed, moseying out of the lounge and back to my desk.

Mr. Craft's door was closed when I got there, and I was thankful. I didn't need his negative energy seeping through the threshold and putting me in an even worse mood than he already had.

I'd spent the last three hours making a thirty page slideshow for the backpack campaign. I was proud of my work, but some of the ideas needed tweaking. Typically I kept my mouth shut unless he asked for my opinion, but today, I might not be able to hold back. He was so rude to me in front of Mindy earlier that I might bite his head off if he decided to be snotty.

I printed off the slide along with transferring a version onto my pink USB port. Craft always huffed when I pulled them out. Worried you'll lose that dying technology? You do know everything is saved in the google doc and can be opened in multiple places.

He was such a dick.

Taking a deep breath, I straightened my new dress that made me feel sexy and confident then grabbed my iPad and made my way to his office door.

Normally I'd wait to be summoned by Mr. Sexy Asshole, but I wanted to get this meeting over with. I was already hungry and should have texted Mindy asking to grab lunch for me.

Raising my free hand, I flexed my fingers, then fisted them to knock assertively, but my hand betrayed me, turning into a limp noodle and barely making a sound.

His deep voice carried passed the door. "Come in."

Taking a long breath, I entered his office. The darkly painted room was modern, a coldness filling the space with its minimal design and lack of personality. Mr. Craft was a straightforward man, not wanting anyone to know about his personal life. If he even had one outside of being buried deep inside interns who would happily open their legs for him.

One of those leggy interns happened to be leaning over him and looking at his computer screen, her cleavage practically hanging out. If Craft turned his head, his face would be between the tall redhead's boobs. Was I so invested in my work that I didn't even notice her come into his office? Or that I didn't hear them screwing?