“Sutherland called you?” Travis asked irritably.
“This morning before you got in.” Ally looked directly at Travis, something that was harder to do when both of them were standing. He was so tall, she was usually staring at his massive chest and shoulders, and she wore the highest heels she could tolerate to bring her up a little taller. Any advantage she could get when dealing with him was another weapon in her arsenal.
His appearance was impeccable and flawless as usual. Travis’s twin, Kade, liked to tease Travis about his dark, boring suits, but nobody could fill out a designer suit quite the way Travis Harrison did. Sure, the immaculate clothing he wore was always dark, just like him. But the dark gray suit he was wearing today fit to perfection, accentuating broad shoulders and covering what Ally already knew—from seeing him in more casual attire or without his suit jacket—was a majorly ripped physique. He didn’t have one single raven-colored hair out of place, and his dark, chocolate eyes were way too sharp for her comfort.
“Mr. Sutherland thought it would be nice if I knew about the meeting you two set up since I do your daily schedule. I thought it was very thoughtful of him to contact me,” Ally replied sweetly, her real purpose of the comment to point out how considerate Travis wasn’t.
Ally knew about Jason Sutherland, but had never met the investment icon billionaire in person. He’d been very kind on the phone, and had told her he’d contacted Travis directly because he was interested in donating and handling the investments for the new charity Travis was starting for women who were victims of domestic abuse. Travis’s friend, Simon Hudson, had spoken of the charity to his college buddy, Grady, a well-known philanthropist from the wealthy East Coast Sinclair family. Grady had come on board, and had mentioned the charity to his childhood friend—Jason—who for some reason, had taken an interest in the project and wanted to be part of the new foundation.
“Show him in as soon as he gets here.” Travis turned and entered his office, closing the door behind him.
“Yes, sir,” she muttered irritably at the closed door of Travis’s office, throwing the best military salute she could in his general direction mockingly, knowing very well that the gesture irritated the hell out of her boss. It felt good to do something that annoyed him, even if he wasn’t there to see it.
Ally shook the two packets of creamer, opened them, and dumped them into her coffee with a thoughtful look, lost in her own thoughts as she twirled the stir stick in the hot liquid.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like Travis. Well…not exactly. Like was too tepid of a word for Travis Harrison; he inspired strong emotions in his employees, everything from terror to admiration. Never really a likable man, Travis maintained a deliberate distance from everyone, so Ally did everything she could to shake him out of his self-contained shell, which vexed the hell out of him. Sometimes, she preferred his anger to his icy indifference. Travis was too serious, too somber, and completely humorless. Maybe she shouldn’t perturb him so often, but it was difficult not to want to take a peek at the man who lived beneath his hardened exterior. So far, all she’d gotten was his outrage for the last three years. She’d spent the first year as his employee just grateful for a job, wanting to please him so she could keep the fantastic salary he was paying her, and possibly use the job experience some day to apply for an MBA program. Within a year, she knew he’d never fire her because he needed her too much, although he’d never admit it. After that, she’d made it her mission to get a rise out of Travis Harrison, anything that would take the haunted look from his eyes that she noticed occasionally, though he wasn’t even aware that it was there.
He’d hate that, knowing that if one looked hard enough, they could see he had vulnerabilities.
“Four years, and I still haven’t completely figured the man out,” she muttered to herself, blowing on her coffee before taking a sip of the hot beverage. He was grim and poker-faced, unless he was pissed off. Personally, she preferred his ire to the unhappy restlessness she sensed in him. Maybe most people thought Travis Harrison had it all, but Ally didn’t think so, and she never gave up trying to see who the man was beneath the ass**le exterior.
Certainly, he did have admirable qualities. He paid as much attention to his charities as he did to his actual business, choosy about which organizations he dumped a fortune into. But Travis Harrison did nothing halfheartedly. Once he’d decided on his worthy causes, he worked as hard on making those charitable organizations successful as he did his business deals. Ally admired that about Travis. Unfortunately, all too often, he was also a complete jerk. Could any man really be as completely dark as her boss, yet give so much to help other people? She’d been asking that same question over and over for years, but hadn’t yet discovered the answer.
“Ms. Caldwell!” Travis bellowed from his office, not bothering to use the intercom. Not that he needed it.
Ally stood, resigned. She’d been waiting for his familiar summoning roar, already knowing what he wanted. Yanking her too-tight, navy pencil skirt down over her curvy hips so the hem would fall back to her knees, she cursed herself for her poor diet and lack of exercise. Her crazy schedule was definitely starting to show in her appearance, and she’d never exactly been a looker in the first place. The skirt had fit just fine a few years ago, and she hadn’t exactly been thin then either. Now, every single item she owned was too tight, and she definitely didn’t have the money to buy new clothes.
“Diet,” she uttered emphatically, tucking a few stray locks of hair behind her ears that had escaped from the thick, blonde French braid that hung down her back. She placed her reading glasses carefully on her desk, knowing she wouldn’t need them for this confrontation with Travis.
Swinging the door open, she entered, leaning against the door to close it. “You needed something, Mr. Harrison?” she asked with saccharine sweetness.
“What the hell is this?” He was waving around a sheet of paper, giving her an angry stare.
“It’s a reminder about my vacation. I put in the request nearly a year ago,” she told him calmly, approaching his desk.
“The answer is no,” Travis replied in an irritatingly voice of a dictator, tearing up the reminder and dropping it into the trash.
“It wasn’t a request. I requested a year ago. I was just reminding you that you’re going to have a temp to replace me for two weeks.”