at least want to know more details on what the next few days will look like. I've come to the conclusion she must've misplaced my card. I purposefully make it difficult for anyone to find a way

it doesn't seem as if the world has hardened her over the years. I on the other hand, can feel my sanity slip away with each useless meeting. I don't know how Polly has put up with me for years, but deep down, I'm grateful for it. She's a wonderful assistant, always doing her job no matter what I ask. I'm just pissy this morning because Margo hasn't contacted me yet. "Hi," I answer, trying to soften the gruffness in my tone slightly. For the next fifteen minutes, Polly and I iron details we'd been needing to work through. The entire time, my mind travels elsewhere. I can't stop thinking about Margo, even when discussing important topics at hand. Eventually, we get to a good stopping point. Polly is efficient. Even from New York, she's able to keep a reign on things so that even when I'm out of the office, I can count on things running smoothly. Before she hangs up, I get an idea. Standing up, I take the phone off speaker and hold it to my ear. My shoes click against the marble floor of the penthouse suite as I rush to my room. "Polly?" "Yes, Mr. Sinclair?" I grab the jacket off its hanger,

operates. Which could go one or two ways with her. Margo talks animatedly with her hands. Upon closer inspection, she grasps something. The bobblehead in her hand swings around in the air. At one point, her coworker has to step slightly to the left to avoid being smacked in the head with the item. My lip twitches in amusement. It doesn't take long for my feet to eat the distance between us. I come to a stop at Margo's back. Her coworker notices me right away. She freezes, her hand stuck in the short blonde strands of her hair. "Margo," the coworker hisses, hastily finishing her task of clipping her hair back. "I'm not done talking!" Margo chides, angrily setting the bobblehead on the cubicle shelf. Is that Nash Pierce? The blonde smiles playfully, raising her eyebrows. "Mar, I'd advise you to stop this conversation until we get home. Someone is standing behind you, and he looks pretty pissed." The blonde-maybe also a roommate-doesn't hide the amusement in her voice. Margo spins on her heels immediately, her puffy lips parting when her eyes land on me. When she looks me up and down, I can't help but wonder if she likes what she sees. "Beck?" she gasps. Her green eyes are wide as they travel over my features. It's like she's trying to figure out if I'm actually here or just a figment of her imagination. "This is Beck?" The girl attempts to whisper, but it comes out more as a yell. "You didn't tell me our new boss looked like that!" Margo aims a dirty look in the girl's direction. "Shut up, Emma. He's not that special to look at." Someone busts out laughing from a few cubicles away. They quickly try to hide the laughter with a cough, but it's too late. Margo gives them a dirty look, muttering something incoherent under her breath. "Stop lying to yourself," the coworker-Emma-mumbles. "That's the best looking man I've ever seen." She bites into an apple I just now notice she's holding. She chews on it loudly, not shy about looking me up and down. "I think I hate you," Margo snaps, shoving what must be her friend from the cubicle space. Her friend fights her by digging her heels into the ground. Margo is smaller than Emma, but still manages to move her a few feet. I reach out to tap the bobblehead she'd been swinging around minutes before. As the head bobbles up and down, I look at her with a bored expression. "Working hard?" I ask sarcastically. She scoffs, looking over her shoulder to her computer screen. "Emma and I were going over a new design before you walked in." "Is that so?" "Yep," she answers confidently. Emma smacks her palm to her forehead, groaning dramatically. My eyes flick to the computer monitor, to the flashing login screen, the evidence clear as day that Margo hasn't even logged in for the morning, let alone looked over a design. "You're not even logged in, Mar." Emma grabs Margo by the shoulders, turning her until she's face to face with the proof of her lie. "Oh..." I can only see her profile, but her wince is obvious. Margo tucks her hand into the back pocket of her jeans as she spins to face me again. "What are you doing here?" "I'm just going to go get to work," Emma mumbles. Her fingers wiggle with a goodbye as she rushes to her own desk. "You've been ignoring me," I state, pinning her with a sco