The Right Place: The Serendipity Duet - Book 1 Read online

  My inheritance gives me a monthly allowance but given I should have received this month’s payment on the day Mom kicked me out, it will be another few weeks before I have any form of money again.

  Adam’s staring at me. There’s a mixture of shock and happiness on his face. I chortle at him, hoping to snap him out of the trance he seems to be in. When that doesn’t work, I snap my fingers in front of his face, and that’s when he jolts back to reality.

  “Sorry. I can’t believe it’s you. It has been such a long time since I’ve seen you. Eight years or so, right?”

  I nod. “I think the last time I saw you would’ve been at my dad’s funeral. I remember you didn’t look too well, but it was very emotional for so many people.”

  He nods. I get the impression he wants to say something but instead changes the topic. “So, what will you do from here?”

  “No idea. I have about three weeks until I can access money again, providing I can change my passwords and pin numbers by then. Maybe I’ll head out of the city, see if there are any free camping grounds.” I shrug.

  Truth is, I have no plan. My cell phone is dead. My car’s extremely low on gas, and there’s no guarantee it will make the journey anyway. But I can’t risk any more fines around the city, and it’s dangerous.

  “Give me your ticket,” he demands, his palm outstretched, fingers wiggling.

  “What? Why?” I ask, looking over my shoulder at the ticket sitting on my passenger seat.

  “Well, you can’t afford this right now. So, I’m going to help you out.” Adam’s cell phone rings in his pocket, and he pulls it out. When he sees who’s calling, he raises his eyebrows. Adam sighs before he excuses himself to answer the call.

  Obviously, all I can hear is a one-sided conversation, but it doesn’t sound good. He angrily hangs up after some heated words, shoving the cell back into his pocket.

  “Hope all is okay,” I sweetly say, not wanting to pry into his business.

  “Work drama. Apparently, my PA didn’t know she was pregnant. Late last night, she gave birth to a baby girl. Go figure!” He uses air quotes to emphasize the know.

  “How could she not know?” I query. That seems to be a very strange excuse.

  “No clue. I must admit I had observed she’d gone from corporate attire to a more flowy, smart-casual wardrobe, but she didn’t have a pregnant belly that I noticed. Very strange.”

  “Yes. Well, I probably should let you get to work. I don’t want to hold you up any longer. Thanks for the coffee.”

  “Before I go, I have a proposition for you?”

  “Um… I’m not sleeping with you for money,” I blurt out before my brain has properly processed the thought.

  Adam laughs a real belly laugh. “Georgia. No. That’s not what I mean.”

  I want to crawl under a rock and hide.

  What an idiot.

  As if Adam would ask that of me, anyway. I doubt he’d want to sleep with me. He must have girls falling at his feet.

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking,” I mutter.

  “Don’t sweat it. Although, I do have an offer for you. Given I’m now missing a PA and need of a new one, how would you like to work for me?” he offers.

  “Wow! Are you serious?” My heart stands still for a brief second, then pounds in my chest in an excited dance.

  “Yes, very serious. I know it probably sounds odd that I’m offering you a job, especially since your father once owned the company, but it’s yours if you’d like it.”

  “Adam, thank you. But I don’t accept handouts.”

  “It’s not a handout, Georgia. Who better to work for me than someone who’s directly connected to the company? I’ve got a feeling you’ll be great in the position. I’m sure you’ve got some of your dad’s amazing qualities, which will also be beneficial.”

  “I’ve been doing a business course at community college. With what’s happened, I wasn’t sure if I’d have to drop out. It’s lucky the semester finished, and I was up to date with my payments.”

  “Business? Well, there you go. This could be a foot in the door for you. We can talk about the company paying for the rest of your tuition. How does that sound?”

  I don’t know what to say, but really this is an amazing opportunity. I don’t want to turn it down because I think it’s a handout. Working at my dad’s old company will be awesome. “Sounds great. Thanks, Adam. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”

  “No problem. Do you remember where the office building is located?”

  “Not really. It’s been a very long time since I’ve been there,” I say, looking down at my feet. I know I should remember where my dad’s office is, but I was only young at the time. I rarely went there as Mom would ground me regularly for the most stupid things.

  “Fair enough. The address is on my card. The pin for the parking garage is the last four digits of my cell. Park in bay number one. It’s one of mine. Take your time. I’ll happily show you around when you arrive and give you the rundown on what you’ll be doing.” He smiles, lightly touching my arm.

  I hope he doesn’t see the goosebumps that have formed under his hand. “Great. See you soon,” I state as excitement surges through my veins.

  Adam walks back to his shiny black car, sliding into the driver’s seat. I watch as he drives away, waiting to wake up from my dream. Pinching the skin on my forearm between my thumb and index finger, I quickly realize this isn’t a dream. Someone has offered me help, and honestly, I can’t remember the last time anything like this happened to me.

  It dawns on me I still have nowhere to stay, but I calm myself by thinking one thing at a time. If worse comes to worst, I’ll sleep in the car again. Perhaps Adam will let me keep the car in the parking garage overnight where it will be safer.

  Flicking my head around to my poor excuse for a car, I shake my head. It’s not comfortable. The car Dad left me would have been cozy, but within days of getting it, Mom had claimed it, telling me I couldn’t drive it yet anyway. She later wrote the car off after accidentally leaving the handbrake off on a steep hill. Yeah, not so sure I believe that—more like she sold it and kept the money.

  After achieving my Learner’s Permit Mom bought herself a new car, and she told me I was too expensive to insure. So, I had to pay for my own driving instructions, which didn’t come cheap. Once I got my driver’s license, she promised to buy me a car. Well, she did, but it was this old bomb which is full of rust and has so many problems. I’ve made it mine, though. I’ve added as much pink as I can, then used a hot glue gun to add glitter and other embellishments.

  My ex-boyfriend kept it going for me, but since we aren’t together anymore, nor did we part on amicable terms, I’m now without a mechanic too. He wasn’t a licensed mechanic, but he’d started his apprenticeship, and then all of a sudden, he switched to do vet nursing.

  Snapping myself out of my thoughts, I slide back into the driver’s seat and say a little prayer as I try to start my car. Luckily, this time, she starts. I take a look at the business card. Sure, most people can type the address into their cell or GPS, but given my cell’s been dead for days, and I have no GPS, I’ll have to rely on asking people for directions if I get lost. Luckily, though, I have a rough idea where Market Street is located—perhaps some memory is still there from when I visited my dad.

  Driving around the city has always made me nervous, but this morning, I’m ten times more jittery having not driven to this location. Luckily, it’s still early, so there isn’t a huge amount of traffic on the roads, but it doesn’t stop my skin from prickling with worry.

  I turn onto the street Adam’s building is on and drive halfway up the block. It’s not long before I find 411 in large letters printed on the side of the building which makes it very easy to find. I pull into the driveway of the building, stopping in front of a boom gate with a keypad. I grab the business card, type in the numbers, and the boom gate opens.

  I guess that’s one more s
tep in believing this is actually happening.

  He’s given me the correct number for the basement parking garage.

  The office building is nothing like I remember. I thought it was blue, not gray. And anyway, I’m sure they have probably given the building a makeover. A tear escapes my eye thinking about what other changes they have made to the building to rid it of Dad’s memory, but I blink it away quickly.

  Today is not the day for getting upset.

  It’s a second chance. I’m going to make the most of Adam Cunningham’s generosity.

  Georgia

  Following the steep spiral driveway down a few levels, I wonder how a large car would fit down here. A few of the turns causing a ball of fear to form in my stomach. After what feels like forever, given how slow I’m driving—but in reality, it’s only a minute or so—I start seeing large numbers painted on the walls in front of parking spaces. I’m concerned my old bomb of a car might not make it back up the driveway this afternoon, but I’ll worry about that problem when I need to.

  After a few minutes, I find a vacant space with number one on the wall, and I pull into the space.

  Warmth tingles through my limbs. I need to make sure Adam knows how grateful I am for this opportunity. As I’m getting out of my car, I lean across and grab my handbag when a gentleman walks up to me.

  “Miss, you can’t park here. This is Mr. Cunningham’s space. How did you get in here? This isn’t visitor parking,” he says with his slight accent.

  I swallow hard, trying to ignore the heat spreading across my face. “Oh, um… Adam, I mean Mr. Cunningham, gave me the code and told me to park in this space. I’ll be his new personal assistant.”

  “I haven’t been told anything about this. Can you please follow me to my office?” he barks out orders but in a semi-polite way. My stomach is fluttering while my mind’s in a spin. Surely Adam would have told security I was coming?

  “Here, look…” I flick him the business card. “This is what he gave me this morning,” I argue, showing him the card. I can see why he’d be concerned, let’s face it I’m not dressed appropriately at all. My hair’s a complete mess. I smell. How stupid of me to come here in this state, expecting to be allowed access.

  “Miss, please follow me. It will only take a minute.” He softens his voice.

  “Fine,” I answer, putting my hands up in defeat. Chills creep up my spine hoping Adam won’t change his mind.

  I follow the security guard, or whatever he is, back to his tiny office. He picks up the receiver of the intercom phone and presses a few numbers.

  “Yes,” I softly hear Adam’s voice down the receiver.

  “Mr. Cunningham, it’s Fernando from parking garage security. We have a woman here who has gotten into the parking garage and has parked in your space. She tells me she met you this morning, and you told her to park there.”

  Fernando’s eyes widen when Adam speaks, but I can’t hear what he’s saying.

  “Right away, sir,” Fernando answers before placing the receiver down.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t informed. The elevators are over there. Hit ‘G’ three times to override the swipe access. Head up to the ground floor, then take elevator two, the one to your right, up to level twenty-six. Someone up there will help you find Mr. Cunningham’s office.”

  My mind boggles at all of the instructions, wishing I had a pen to take down some notes. Surely, I’ll remember? I know I need to because part of my job will be to store information and retrieve it later.

  “Thanks. I’m Georgia, by the way,” I offer, trying to discover some manners.

  “Nice to meet you, Georgia. I’m Fernando Hernandez. Security. I work down here in the mornings and on the front desk in the afternoons.” He shakes my hand and smiles at me.

  “I’m sure I’ll see you around then. Have a good day,” I say before making my way over to the elevator.

  I press the button, not having to wait for the doors to slowly open. Once inside, I press the level button three times as instructed before the doors close. The elevator music is kind of awesome. It makes me tap my foot, but I’m avoiding looking at my disheveled reflection in the mirrored door. I can only hope the foyer isn’t busy, so I can creep in without being noticed.

  Before the elevator doors open, I decide perhaps I should brave a glimpse at my appearance to see what I can do to tidy myself up. Immediately, I decide to take my hair out of the messy bun it’s trapped in, trying my hardest to comb it through with my fingers. If I can at least make my hair a little more presentable, maybe I won’t look quite so terrible. Using the shiny elevator doors as my makeshift mirror, I can only hope no cameras are watching me right now trying to add glitter to this train wreck.

  The doors open to the main foyer of the building, I’m shocked by the number of people milling around everywhere—some running to catch elevators, some standing around holding their coffee cups having a chat.

  Then I notice every set of eyes on me as I step out of the elevator.

  I’m sure I hear the comment, “Who let this homeless woman in here?” as I look around to find the reception desk. I don’t like being the center of attention—never have—it always makes me want to curl into a ball. I feel like screaming out, “Take a picture, it lasts longer,” but decide against it. Last thing I want to do is make a terrible first impression if I am going to be working here.

  I make my way over to the reception desk. It’s curved, large, and white with wooden accents and has the word ‘Reception’ printed in gold lettering above it. I let them know I’m Mr. Cunningham’s new personal assistant.

  It feels like everyone in the building has gone silent. All eyes are on me.

  I am awaiting a sudden burst of laughter which usually follows a dead-silent moment, but it doesn’t come. Thank God, I think to myself as I take a deep breath.

  Wanting to turn and run back to my car, I swallow several times as the tight band clamped around my chest slowly releases. I ask a man behind the desk dressed smartly in a black suit who’s obviously another security guard which floor Mr. Cunningham’s office is located on. My nerves have gotten the better of me as I’ve completely forgotten what Fernando told me.

  “Wait here,” he says, before frantically typing on the computer in front of him.

  A young woman, beautifully dressed in a smart, cream skirt, teamed with a black and cream silk blouse, informs the security guard I’m speaking to she’ll help me. She looks me up and down before raising her chin and an eyebrow.

  “Thank you,” I mutter.

  I know I’m a mess, I don’t need to be told.

  This is what happens when you have no basic amenities to use.

  “My pleasure, darling,” she replies with a bit of a posh accent. Her beaming smile is so fake. “I’m Isabel. I’m the personal assistant to Vice President, or COO, Mr. Zachary June. Looks like we’ll be working in close to one another.”

  Fantastic, I think to myself. Just what I need, to work with a Barbie wannabe.

  I can tell she’s talking down to me as though I am a child. Perhaps it’s because of the way I look, and I guess who can blame her.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Isabel. I’m Georgia,” I reply, my skin crawling with how polite I’m being to this woman. There’s something about her that’s rubbing me the wrong way.

  We walk over to the elevators in silence. Isabel must be in her late twenties. Her flame-red hair is scooped up into a French twist. Her four-inch high heels clink on the tiled floor as I follow behind her. I feel even more underdressed while watching from behind.

  She presses level twenty-six, and we step inside. I don’t talk, only listen to Isabel as she explains to me what’s on each level. Occasionally, I see her nostrils flare and wonder if I should have tried to find something a little less worn before getting out of my car.

  When the doors open, Isabel steps out and walks ahead while I’m taken aback by the décor and finishes—polished white marble tiles with gray streaks through th
em, glass walls with windows as far as the eye can see. Each area has a rather expensive-looking dark timber desk with a luxurious chair.

  “This way,” Isabel calls as the elevator doors start to close on me. I jump out in the nick of time and hurry to catch up with her. Following her around a corner, she stops quite suddenly. I almost run into the back of her.

  “Mr. Cunningham’s office is in there. Mr. June’s is over there.” She points. “Our desks are partially visible to each other… but I don’t make small talk during work hours. I’m behind this wall. You’re over there. You can knock on his door.” She turns away from me, cell phone to her ear. I start to walk over to Adam’s door.

  I can hear Isabel talking to someone in her hoity-toity voice, not caring if anyone else hears what she’s saying. “Fiona, darling. How are you today? How’s that baby? You must tell me all about the birth, but not the disgusting parts. Just brought up the girl who must be replacing you. She’s a mess… no, more like a hobo… yes, really. Hmmm… yes, I wonder how long she’ll last.” She laughs down the phone.

  My body tenses as my heart begins to pound. How dare she say something like that when I am still within hearing distance. I drag my feet, suddenly my legs feel twice as heavy as normal.

  Be grateful for this opportunity, Georgia. Ignore the haters. My dad always said this phrase, ‘ignore the haters.’ He often said it got him by in life.

  Shaking my head to clear the negativity from my mind, I stand tall walking confidently up to Adam’s door, knocking once.

  “Come in,” his deep timbre voice booms from the other side.

  I open the door with a click, gingerly stepping inside. “Hello,” I say quietly.

  He’s the picture of handsome. Well-toned body, his suit fits him like a glove, his milk chocolate brown hair is combed neatly to one side. His smile is reflected in his sea-green eyes.