Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“D&D. Like…Dungeons and Dragons because he’s such an asshole that he has no friends except for the pretend ones online that he plays games with.”
What? I cringed internally at the insane excuse.
“Hey,” she shouted, slapping my arm. “My brother and I used to play that game, and it wasn’t because something was wrong with us.”
“You know what I mean,” I excused, mentally kicking myself. “I’m just calling him names at random.”
“You could always change it to something like Douche and Dud,” she offered. “Or Dumb and Deranged. Or Dirty Dickbag.”
I gave a chef’s kiss. “Genius.”
We laughed and created more imaginative names. Once we collected ourselves, I remembered what I’d wanted to talk to her about in the first place.
“Hey, I was thinking you should apply for the position.”
“Me? You want me to apply to be the chief operations officer of Quinn Music Group?” Shiloh scoffed. “Girl, there is no way that I would get the job.”
I sat up with a frown. “Why not? You’ve been with this company for fifteen years. You’ve worked in other departments, making you knowledgeable and versatile, and you worked as a managing leader before you came to Quinn.”
“That doesn’t mean I could be COO.”
“Have you not even thought about it? Do you not have dreams of climbing the ladder?”
She tossed her hands before slapping them against her thighs. “Of course, I have, but not that high. Maybe the vice president at best. Besides, I always assumed that you would be the one in charge.”
I sighed and fell back against the couch again. “Yeah, me too.”
“Would it bother you if I was in charge?” she asked after a pause.
I imagined it—considering how I’d feel. Shiloh knew me better than anyone, making it impossible to lie with false positivity. I imagined her in my father’s office and waited for the jealousy, but it never came.
“Truthfully, no. Not really, because you’ve taught me so much of what I know and if I can’t run this company, then I would want someone like you to run it. And—not that I would ever admit it to anyone but you—but my dad is right. I am in no position to be running the company right now. I still have so much to learn, and I’d love it if you taught me.”
She rested her hand over mine and squeezed. “That means a lot coming from you.”
“Good, because even if this contract isn’t set up in my favor, I plan on doing everything I can to run this company some day, and I’ll need you by my side to do it.”
“You know I’m here for you. Lucian Daire won’t stand a chance of taking the last six percent from you.”
“Exactly.” I planned to make him work twice as hard, so the sight of him losing was twice as satisfying.
Noticing the time, I stood and slid my pumps back on.
“You’re going to do great,” she assured, standing with me.
“Thanks, girl.”
We headed out and down the hall.
“Keep the position in mind and start getting your application ready because I better see it in the bunch,” I reminded her before we split ways.
“Will do,” she promised.
I watched her until she disappeared around the corner. I wanted to follow her. I wanted to run back to mine and avoid the stress of Lucian Dark and Dangerous. I wanted to avoid the reality of finding someone to run a company I dreamed of running. I wanted to avoid finding that person with the man who wanted nothing more than to see me fail.
I wanted…
“Ugh,” I groaned. “Fuck it.”
With a deep breath, I pulled my shoulders back and lifted my chin, done feeling sorry for myself. Time to show him I didn’t know the meaning of fail.
Time to make Lucian Dirty Dickbag eat his words.
By the last interview, every muscle in my body ached. I spent the last four hours holding back my reactions to the sheer lunacy from the applicants.
“I think there is a lot to be gained—financially—by moving Quinn Music Group to a solely digital company.”
“So, no record sales?” Lucian asked.
I couldn’t tell what shocked me more—the absurd suggestion or Lucian’s calm reaction.
“No physical copies,” the man confirmed.
“You think that’s the best plan when it makes up almost fifteen percent of our profits?” I asked.
“Net or gross profits?” he asked, smiling like he had me backed into a corner.
“Honestly, it doesn’t really matter.” I struggled to find a calm anywhere near Lucian’s when all I wanted to ask was if the man was fucking insane. “There is a growing trend for vinyl among all generations. We would be isolating an entire market of consumers, which would make us less appealing to artists.”
He shrugged. “You train your consumers and your artists. They’ll just be grateful to have Quinn Music Group interested in them. I’d like to see them say no.”