The Executive's Decision
Page 3

Regan nodded, absorbing her new instructions.
They walked out of his office and settled into their office. Regan pulled a chair up next to Mary Ellen, who flipped on the computer screen and began going over everything Regan would need to know to assist Zachary Benson, one of the most sought-after real estate developers in the nation.
“I really hope I don’t screw anything up.” Regan felt the knot in her stomach tighten again, and she feared her nerves were going to get the best of her. Lord knows she’d screwed up the last job she’d had. Suddenly every place he’d hit her throbbed with the memory of bruises.
“You’ll screw up plenty,” Mary Ellen said, and Regan shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Mary Ellen smiled and laid a gentle hand on her arm. “But that’s how you learn.”
“Great.” She wasn’t reassured.
“He’s a softy. He only fires people once in a while.”
“And if he’s a softy, what makes him fire people?” Regan’s attempt to hide the fear in her voice didn’t completely work.
“If you lose him a contract, he’ll fire you on the spot,” she said matter-of-factly. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about it.”
Mary Ellen set forth to help Regan understand contracts and bids.
Though Regan had been around many of the forms before, she worried that she was once again placing herself in the position of caretaker of a very powerful man. Why would she think that she was doing the right thing when all she could do was concentrate on the physical pains she’d recovered from? Why hadn’t she taken the job her brother had told her about at the hospital? She’d be filing papers, not making sure some CEO’s coffeemaker was turned off, and his papers were on his desk in order.
When the phone rang, Mary Ellen handed her the wireless headset and pushed a button.
Regan’s eyes widened. She put on the headset and heard the line go live. Her body stiffened. She swallowed hard. “Good morning, Mr. Benson’s office,” she said, having heard Mary Ellen offer the greeting moments earlier.
“Good morning. May I speak to Mary Ellen Rothchild?” the man on the other end asked.
“Of course, let me connect you.” Regan fumbled for the hold button and let out a sigh. “It’s for you.”
Mary Ellen’s eyebrows pinched together as she took the phone. “This is Mary Ellen… yes… are you… Okay, I understand. In ten. That’s fine.” Her voice grew agitated as she replaced the receiver with a shake of her head. “Well, looks like you get to run the desk yourself for a few minutes. I have an urgent meeting in the lobby. I’ll be back in just a few minutes. If anything comes up and you don’t know the answer, just write it down, take a message. In a week you’re on your own anyway.” She adjusted out of the chair and rubbed her side. “This is a good time to try and fly solo.”
Mary Ellen retrieved a legal pad and a pen from the desk drawer and then headed toward the elevator.
Regan tried to settle into her new space, more than a little annoyed that she’d been training to be Zachary Benson’s assistant and he hadn’t even shown up yet. How could you run an empire if you didn’t even show up for work? Obviously, he was the kind of man Alexander Hamilton had been. The kind that pushes his employees to perform and then takes the credit for their success.
She took a moment to browse over his schedule in the computer and become familiar with the kinds of appointments she’d probably have to make excuses for when he didn’t show up.
There were plenty of meetings, both in Nashville and as far away as Los Angeles. She assumed she’d be present at most of them. Mary Ellen had made sure she had a very flexible schedule and could attend early and late meetings. She also needed to be available for business trips that lasted a week and trips that came up at the last moment. Sadly, this was something her life would allow. Her only commitments were to her family. She had dinner with them once a month, and it too was something she could reschedule if necessary.
For today, he had a meeting off site at two and a conference call at six. She assumed, looking at the other days in his schedule, this was a laid-back day.
Mary Ellen returned a half hour later and tossed her legal pad onto the desk. “Any crisis?”
“A Jason Agston from Steeple Concrete called and said the order was delayed and there was nothing more he could do about it. He’d appreciate if Zach could call him personally and get everything straightened out. A Ms. Simone Pierpont called and said, ‘That would be fine.’” She waved a hand in the air with her French accent flowing, and Mary Ellen smiled. “And his mother called and tried to get me to spill my life story when I said he wasn’t in.”
“She’s a talker. She’s gets lonely during the day when her husband plays golf or is swimming. She knows someone here will always answer the phone.”
“Will that impact my schedule much?” Did the job include taking care of his mother too?
“Only if you marry him.”
That certainly wasn’t going to happen.
She looked at her watch, which now read ten fifteen. “So where is he?”
“That was him in the lobby. He’s taken on a lunch meeting. He’ll be in this afternoon.”
“He’s not coming up to meet me?” Regan snapped, though she hadn’t meant it to sound as angry as it did. Didn’t he care whose hands he was going to be in?
Mary Ellen shrugged. “I’d say he’s a pain in the ass, but really he’s not. I’m not sure what he’s doing today. He’s usually up to his eyeballs in contracts by this time of the morning. Well, at least he’ll be your concern soon.”
Mary Ellen sank into her chair, and her eyes misted. She turned away, but Regan had noticed.
“I have a feeling you’ll miss him.”
“Nah,” Mary Ellen said, rubbing her stomach again and adjusting herself in her seat. “It’s only been ten years. I can just walk away.” She winced. “Really, though, I interviewed forty people out of one hundred applicants. You were the one I knew would take the best care of Zach.”
Regan wasn’t sure what to say to that. She’d hoped her vast knowledge of contracts had been why they’d hired her, not because she was most qualified to take care of Zachary Benson’s personal needs, especially when he didn’t have the decency to meet her. The thought left her uncomfortable with the prospect of the job at hand. Once she’d had a job for the same reason, and it hadn’t ended in the best way. She didn’t want to go through that again.