God, this man was such a pompous ass.
“If you want me to get down, then you’ll need to take a seat to speak to me.”
He sighed. “Fine. Get down.”
Just for shits and giggles, I pretended to wobble before I got down. Reed ran to my side to catch me. Well, whaddya know, Mr. Meanie has a chivalrous side. I couldn’t hide my smirk.
He scowled. “You did that on purpose.”
Whispers: Interactive StoriesMake your own choices and decide what happens next!
I jumped down and extended my hand toward the chairs on the other side of my desk. “Why don’t we both have a seat, Mr. Eastwood?”
He grumbled something I couldn’t make out, but sat.
I folded my hands on my desk and flashed him my pearly whites. “So what is it you wanted to discuss?”
“Our trip tomorrow.”
Iris had mentioned that I’d need to assist with a property showing out east tomorrow, but since I’d had no idea he was her grandson at the time, I still hadn’t put the pieces together. Great, a whole day with the man who hates me. And here I thought I was getting a fresh start at this perfect new job. Instead, I’d have a man who couldn’t wait for me to screw up watching me like a hawk every second.
“What would you like to tell me about the trip?” I took out a notepad and readied a pen.
“Well, for starters, we leave at five thirty, sharp.”
“In the morning?”
“Yes, Charlotte. People tend to want to visit large estates with acreage during daylight hours.”
“You don’t have to be so condescending. I’m new, you know.”
“I’m painfully aware of that fact, yes.”
I rolled my eyes and wrote down five thirty on my notepad, adding the word SHARP in all caps with a double underline while he watched. “Five thirty it is,” I said. “Will I be meeting you at the train station?”
“We’ll be driving.”
“Okay.”
“I have a seven a.m. phone call with a client in London. When Lorena and I go out for the day, I usually drive for the first hour or so. When we hit the end of the LIE, we grab some breakfast, and she drives the rest of the way so that I can take my calls and work on emails before arriving at the property.”
“Uh. I don’t drive.”
“What do you mean, you don’t drive?”
“It means I don’t have a license, so I won’t be able to take a shift.”
“I wasn’t asking the question literally. I was asking why a twentysomething-year-old woman doesn’t have her license yet?”
I shrugged. “I just don’t. A lot of people who live in the city don’t drive.”
“Have you never attempted to learn?”
“It’s on my to-do list.”
Reed let out another loud sigh and shook his head. “Fine. I’ll drive the entire trip. Email me your address, and I’ll pick you up. Be ready.”
“No.”
His brows rose. “No?”
I was guessing that this man was not acquainted with being told no too often. “I’ll meet you at the office.”
“It’s easier for you if I pick you up at home at that hour.”
“It’s okay. I don’t feel comfortable with you seeing where I live.”
Reed scrubbed his hands up and down his face. “You do know that I can go into the employee database and look up your address anytime I want, right?”
“That’s fine. But knowing where I live and seeing where I live are two different things.”
“How so?”
“Well . . .” I sat back in my chair and gestured to the outfit I wore. “You know I’m naked under here. But that doesn’t mean I have to show you my breasts.”
His full lips curved into a wicked smile as his eyes dropped down to the hint of cleavage that my shirt displayed. “I don’t quite think those are the same thing. But whatever you say.”
This man had the ability to unnerve me with one look. I straightened my spine and held my pen to the notebook again. “What else?”
“We’re showing the Bridgehampton estate to two families. This is a seven-million-dollar property, and our clients expect privacy. You’ll need to position yourself at the front door so that no one enters the house during the showing. If the second family arrives too early, you’re responsible for limiting them to the sitting room in the front that is off the main hallway.”
“Okay. I can handle that.”
“Have the caterer set up in that room so you can offer the clients something while they wait. Of course, you should offer both families something when they arrive. But it’s also a discreet way of getting buyers who show up too early to move into a room while I finish a showing.”
“Caterer?”
“Citarella. They’re in the vendor directory. You should download the contact information to your phone in case there are any issues.”
I tilted my head to the side. “How come the Bridgehampton prospective buyers get food and I didn’t? My penthouse had a higher price tag.”