Lottie Hayes stared at the buzzing phone receiver for five full seconds before realizing the caller was none other than Alex Grant. Her chest tightened as she hastily dropped her designer tote, grabbed the meticulously organized Victory Project files from the cabinet, and hurried toward the executive conference room at the end of Grant Corporation’s marble-floored hallway.
Outside the mahogany doors, Lottie smoothed her Ann Taylor blazer before knocking. A baritone voice rumbled “Enter.”
The cavernous boardroom held only Alex, his chiseled profile illuminated by California sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows. Even in contemplation, the Grant heir exuded intimidating authority.
“Your documents, Mr. Grant.” Lottie’s voice held steady despite her racing pulse. Soon she’d be free of this gilded cage and its judgmental whispers.
Alex glanced up through unfairly long lashes. “Leave them.”
She turned toward freedom, then hesitated. “There’s…something I need to discuss.”
The CEO leaned back in his Herman Miller chair, Armani suit stretching across broad shoulders. “Proceed.”
“I’m resigning.” The words burst out louder than intended.
Alex’s thumb paused on his Montblanc pen. “May I ask why our newest Stanford graduate is abandoning her coveted position after three days?”
“Let’s just say corporate life isn’t for me.” Lottie’s nails bit into her palms. She wouldn’t repeat the vile “sugar baby” rumors from the accounting vipers.
“Your contract specifies two years or $200,000 penalty.” His smirk ignited her temper. “We’re not some Silicon Valley startup you can ghost, Ms. Hayes.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “This environment is…toxic. For the company’s reputation-“
“Ah yes, the breakroom gossip.” Alex stood, towering over her 5’4″ frame. “Tell me, Charlotte – you let middle-aged secretaries dictate your career?”
When she remained silent, he checked his Rolex. “My 2PM with the Governor’s office awaits. We’ll continue this…discussion tonight. My driver will collect you at seven.”
The elevator doors closed on Lottie’s stunned expression. Across the bullpen, Scarlett Thomas and Skyler Martinez exchanged knowing smirks. Let them whisper. She squared her shoulders – if Alex Grant wanted war, he’d get one.