Stuck In Shangri-La
DARCIE REED THANKED the secretary who'd informed her that Mr. Blackwell wished to see her in his office. She pulled the mirror from her bottom drawer and checked to make sure that her blond hair was still sleekly coiled into its French twist.
She stood up, ran her hands over the collar of her white, manstyle blouse to be sure it lay flat over the top of her navy suit jacket, then smoothed down her belowtheknee matching navy skirt and picked up the file on the Hastings merger.
It was only ten o'clock, and a Monday, so she had not expected to be summoned to Mr. Blackwell's office, especially since the man had flown to Vegas for the weekend with his third wife. Bunny? Binny? Something with a B.
Maybe he was trying to catch her off her guard, asleep at the switch, whatever. Ha! Clive Blackwell would have to do more than ask for her work two days early to catch her off guard. Darcie ate, slept, drank, lived Blackwell Industries, and there was nothing she didn't know about the proposed Hastings merger.
Wednesday she would make her presentation, and her recommendations. The board would review her findings, and by this time next week, hel ... read full excerpt from: Stuck In Shangri-La ebook
