Chapter 4
With that resolution firmly implanted in her mind, Phoebe drove to work on Monday and threw herself wholeheartedly into her job. She knew that Piper and Paige are worried about her. Sometimes she notices that they constantly shoots her a sympathetic face but she continues on as if nothing's worrying her. At noontime, when she returned from lunch, the phone on her desk was ringing. Putting down her purse, she glanced over her shoulder into Keith's empty office, then answered it. "Miss Haliwell?" It was Mr. Steven, the real personnel manager, who graded her tests, whom didn't really like her much. "Report to me in the personnel department immediately."
"I don't have much time, since I'm late for lunch, so I'll be brief," Mr. Steven said few minutes later, when Phoebe was seated in his office. "Starting of today, you're officially located to the next Mantafor building"
"Why have I been located?"
Mr. Steven sighed, sounding as if he was irritated with her questions. "Do you speak French fluently?"
"Yes, but what does that have to do-"
"I am notified when a project requires someone who speaks fluent French, and your name appeared in the computer search. Actually, you're the computer's second choice. The first was on sick leave," he added to spite her, "I will notify Mr. Evans of your reassignment when he returns from lunch, and I'll arrange for another secretary to work for him in the afternoon while you're working on this project."
"Do I have to go to the next building right this minute?"
He nodded.
Phoebe started objecting. "Look, I'm still trying to learn my present job, and Keith-Mr... Evans-isn't going to be at all pleased about-"
"Mr. Evans has no choice," he interrupted coolly. "I don't know the exact nature of the project that requires your fluency in French, but I do know it is top priority, confidential." He stood up. "You are to report to Mr. Turner's office immediately."
"Whaaat?" Phoebe gasped, leaping to her feet in alarm. "Does Mr. Turner know I'm the one who's been assigned to him?"
Mr. Steven gave her a withering look. "Mr. Turner is in a meeting at present, and his secretary did not feel that he should be interrupted to discuss this minor substitution."
***
I cannot believe this is happening! Working with Cole? This is my worst nightmare! Isn't working in Cole's company bad enough, and now I'll have to take orders directly from him! How high is the coincidence?, Phoebe thought while walking across the thick, emerald blue carpeting toward the circular desk in the center of Cole's private reception area. "My name is Phoebe Haliwell," she told the receptionist, a beautiful brunette. "Mr. Turner requested a translator, and I've been sent here from personnel."
The receptionist glanced over her shoulder as the doors to Cole's office opened and four men emerged. "I'll tell Mr. Turner that you're here," she said politely. As she reached for the telephone it began to ring, and she picked it up. With her hand over the mouthpiece, she whispered to Phoebe, "Just go on in. Mr. Turner is expecting you."
The tall rosewood to Cole's office were slightly ajar, and he was standing behind his desk, his back to her, talking to someone on the telephone. Drawing a deep breath, Phoebe walked into the room and silently closed the doors behind her.
"Okay," Cole said into the telephone after a pause. "Call the Asian office and tell our labor relations team to send me a report tomorrow." With the phone hooked between his shoulder and his ear, he picked up a file from his desk and began reading it. He had removed his suit coat, and as he slowly flipped the pages, his white shirt stretched rippling across his broad muscled shoulders and tapered back. Phoebe's hands tingled as she recalled the rippling strength of that powerful male body, the feel of his warm, tanned skin beneath her fingertips...
After he hung up the phone, he started flipping over another page of the file he was reading. Phoebe opened her mouth to announce her presence, then stopped. She couldn't very well call him Cole, and she absolutely refused to humbly and respectfully call him "Mr. Turner." As she started toward his rosewood desk, she said instead, "Your receptionist told me to come in."
Cole turned abruptly. His eyes were unreadable as he casually tossed the file folder onto his desk, shoved his hands deeply into his pant pockets and silently contemplated her. He waited until she was standing directly across his desk from him before he said quietly, "You've chosen a poor time to apologize, Phoebe. I have to leave for a luncheon appointment in five minutes."
Phoebe almost choked on his outrageous presumption that she owed him and apology, but she merely favored him with an amused smile. "I hate to bruise your huge ego, but I didn't come up here to apologize. I came because Mr. Steven in personnel sent me."
Cole's jaw tightened. "Why?," he snapped.
"To help with some special project that requires a secretary whom is fluent with French"
"Then you're wasting my time," he informed her bitingly. "In the first place, you aren't qualified or experienced enough to work at this level. In the second place, I don't want you here."
His contempt brought Phoebe's simmering fury to rolling boil, and she couldn't stop herself from goading him.
"Not as if I want to be here, with you," she snapped, backing away a step. "Now would you just be kind enough to call Mr. Steven and tell him that? I've already given him reasons for not wanting to work for you, but he insisted that I come up here."
"Just what 'reasons' did you gave him?"
"I told him," Phoebe lied wrathfully, "that you are an arrogant conceited lecher, and that I'd rather be dead than work for you."
"You told Steven that?" he asked in a low, threatening voice. Phoebe kept the smile fixed on her face. "Yep."
"What did he say?"
Unable to endure the icy blast on his gaze, Phoebe pretended to study her manicure. "Oh, he said that a lot of woman you've slept with probably feel that way about you, but that I should put company loyalty above my understandable revulsion for you."
"Phoebe, "Cole said silkily, "you're fired."