Chapter 257
**Sara**
I turned around and found my coworker Mark grinning at me.
"Someone's deep in thought this morning." He waggled his eyebrows. "Coffee hasn't kicked in yet?"
"Something like that," I mumbled, grateful when the elevator dinged open. We stepped inside, and I jabbed the button for our floor.
Mark leaned against the elevator wall, a knowing smirk on his face. "So, that guy who dropped you off..."
I kept my eyes fixed on the floor numbers ticking up. "What about him?"
"Is he your boyfriend?"
"No, just a friend." I fiddled with my purse strap, hoping my face wasn't as red as it felt.
Mark raised an eyebrow. "He doesn't look like just a friend."
I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Well, he is."
Before Mark could respond, the elevator dinged open on the fifth floor. A woman in a tailored suit stepped inside, her perfume filling the small space. A few people exited, shuffling out with murmured goodbyes.
Mark turned back to me, that knowing grin still plastered on his face. "Alright, if you say so."
The elevator reached our floor with a gentle jolt. The doors slid open, and we stepped out into the bustling office. I could already hear the hum of conversations and the clatter of keyboards.
"Another exciting day in paradise," Mark announced, making a beeline for his desk. "Let me know when you're ready to dive into those reports."
I settled into my chair, powering up my computer. Day two at Westbridge Capital. The new job jitters had somewhat subsided, replaced by a determination to prove myself.
Amy bounced over. "Morning! Ready for the team meeting?"
I looked up at Amy's enthusiastic face, my mind still half-stuck on thoughts of Tom. "Team meeting?"
"The weekly strategy huddle. Everyone's going to be there." Amy perched on the edge of my desk, practically vibrating with energy.
"Oh." I straightened in my chair, anxiety creeping in. "When is it?"
"In about-" Amy checked her watch "-twenty minutes. Don't worry; it's not as scary as it sounds."
Hailey appeared behind Amy, coffee cup in hand. "Amy, stop terrorizing the new girl." She turned to me with a warm smile. "Sara, you don't have to attend today's meeting. Maybe next week you can join, or if you want, you can just sit in and observe without speaking."
"Why wouldn't I need to talk?" I frowned, memories of countless MBA presentations flashing through my mind. "I mean, I can handle a meeting."
Mark wheeled his chair over, joining our impromptu desk gathering. The wheels squeaked in protest as he came to a stop, nearly crashing into Amy's legs.
"Whoa there, Speed Racer," Amy jumped aside.
"Look," Mark said, raising his hands placatingly, "it's not that we don't think you're capable. It's just that this is only your second day, and we thought it might be better if you took some time to settle in first. You'll probably get more out of observing how we handle things before diving in headfirst. Trust me, these meetings can get pretty technical about ongoing projects. This way, you can learn the ropes without any pressure."
I plastered on my best professional smile. "Alright, I get it. Observation mode it is."
Mark rolled back to his desk, the wheels squeaking like a chorus of protesting mice.
Amy patted my shoulder and bounced away, her energy making me feel like I'd had three espresso shots just by proximity.
Twenty minutes later, we filed into the conference room. I settled into a chair near the back, notebook ready, determined to prove I could at least take stellar notes. The meeting started, and within five minutes, my confidence evaporated like morning dew.
"...and the projections show a clear correlation between the macro-economic indicators and our portfolio's beta coefficient..."
My pen hovered over the blank page. What in the fresh MBA hell was happening? I'd aced Financial Management, but this felt like they were speaking in code.
"...considering the volatility matrix..."
I glanced around. Everyone nodded as if this made perfect sense. Maybe I'd stepped into a parallel universe where finance had evolved into its own language overnight.
Someone mentioned derivatives, and I perked up. Finally, something familiar! But then they veered into territory that made my head spin. I scribbled down what I could, though my notes looked more like abstract art than anything coherent.
"...synchronize the risk assessment protocols..."
My mind wandered to Tom's ridiculous office idea. At least that made sense in a completely inappropriate way. I caught myself smiling and quickly schooled my expression back to "serious business professional."
Halfway through, I gave up trying to understand every term and focused on the bigger picture. This was only day two, after all. Rome wasn't built in a day, and apparently, neither was a complete understanding of whatever financial sorcery they were discussing.
By the time we filtered out of the conference room, my notebook contained exactly three comprehensible sentences and several doodles that I'd tried to pass off as flow charts.
"How'd you find it?" Amy asked, falling into step beside me.
"Oh, you know." I waved my hand vaguely. "Very informative."
She laughed. "Don't worry. During the first few weeks, I felt like I was listening to Charlie Brown's teacher. Wah wah wah..."
That broke my professional facade, and I snorted. Maybe I didn't need to have it all figured out just yet. Besides, I had other things to focus on - like surviving the rest of the day without thinking about certain professors and their spreadsheet innuendos.
I shut down my computer and gathered my things, stretching out the kinks from sitting all day. After hours of staring at spreadsheets—the actual kind, not Tom's innuendo version—my brain felt like mush.
"Heading out?" Mark glanced up from his monitor.
"Yeah, finally done for the day." I slung my bag over my shoulder.
Amy popped her head over her cubicle wall. "Want to grab drinks?"
"Rain check? It's been a long day."
"Sure thing!" Amy's perpetual cheerfulness never seemed to dim. "See you tomorrow!"
I waved goodbye to the scattered remaining coworkers and headed for the elevator. The lobby was quieter now, and most of the morning crowd was long gone. I pushed through the revolving doors into the cooling evening air.
The evening breeze hit my face as I stepped out, welcoming relief after a day trapped in air-conditioned monotony.
A sleek car caught my eye across the street, parked in the no-parking zone. My heart did that annoying flutter thing it always did when I thought about Tom. But no, it couldn't be his car. He wouldn't just show up without texting first, right?
I squinted, trying to get a better look without being obvious. Great, now I was that person - creeping on random cars like some kind of automotive stalker. What was wrong with me? Just because Tom owned a similar vehicle didn't mean every fancy car on the street belonged to him.
A woman in a fitted dress approached the vehicle, her confident stride marking her as someone who belonged in this world of glass towers and power suits. The driver's door opened, and Tom - because, of course, it was Tom's car, why wouldn't it be? - stepped out.
The woman's arms wrapped around him in a familiar embrace that twisted my stomach. I couldn't see Tom's face from this distance, but the woman's body language screamed intimacy.
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