[ Clay is sidetracked by another obligation with his side hustle (one irate phone call later about someone who is late in payments and that is NOT acceptable, as per your contract- ) and does take a half hour to respond to this particularly fun email. ]
Hello Cadence,
Anytime! I am looking forward to it, certainly one of my favorite “work activities” (if you can call it that) on my calendar this month. I’m sure it will be a nice dinner based on the positive Google reviews, but you’ll be missed. I’ll try to make it up to you, haha.
I’ll send you anything else I think is relevant in a future email. I can’t put my full attention on this at the moment. A client of mine needs me, so I may be unavailable for a few hours. Of course, you have my cell, if anything comes up that my staff can’t answer. That said, I’ll be checking my emails remotely until tomorrow.
Enjoy the rest of your day and thank you for the help, as always.
Best,
[ (read between the lines on the last note - text me later? xoxo) He smiles at the thought of Cadence reading his thinly veiled invitations and shifts into a grimace at his next task. Clay groans and pushes himself back from the desk to excuse himself from the office. Brooklyn was a fucking zoo this time of year- ]
did i do this reply just to avoid writing the next starter? who could say!!
[ Cadence is knee-deep in a completely separate deposition transcript that's failing to hold her attention when the tell-tale email notification chimes on her computer. She caps her highlighter and shifts her swivel chair over to the monitor, scanning the email with a critical eye. ]
"Haha"? Who even types that in a professional email?
[ Her ever-lit flame of indignation flares at the implication he's too busy to speak with her and her fingers are poised to respond to the email before she pulls back, disquieted by her own knee-jerk reaction.
Why is she even giving this prat the time of day again? Client or not...
Instead, Cadence sets her out of office up early and pulls up her phone's contact list, scanning through an admittedly extensive list of potential meals and dates, depending on the evening. She settles on one, a Wall Street stock broker with dark hair and a thinly veiled humiliation kink that'll work wonders for her pent up rage this evening--he responds to her text about dinner within minutes, and she leans back in her chair, trying to use the gratification of being highly desired fight off the feeling of unease forming a pit in her stomach.
It's fine. He can admittedly play the game better than her usual prey, but they both know how the hunt ends. ]
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“as if” - and yet you thought about it. InTeResting.
Hello Cadence,
Anytime! I am looking forward to it, certainly one of my favorite “work activities” (if you can call it that) on my calendar this month. I’m sure it will be a nice dinner based on the positive Google reviews, but you’ll be missed. I’ll try to make it up to you, haha.
I’ll send you anything else I think is relevant in a future email. I can’t put my full attention on this at the moment. A client of mine needs me, so I may be unavailable for a few hours. Of course, you have my cell, if anything comes up that my staff can’t answer. That said, I’ll be checking my emails remotely until tomorrow.
Enjoy the rest of your day and thank you for the help, as always.
Best,
[ (read between the lines on the last note - text me later? xoxo) He smiles at the thought of Cadence reading his thinly veiled invitations and shifts into a grimace at his next task. Clay groans and pushes himself back from the desk to excuse himself from the office. Brooklyn was a fucking zoo this time of year- ]
did i do this reply just to avoid writing the next starter? who could say!!
"Haha"? Who even types that in a professional email?
[ Her ever-lit flame of indignation flares at the implication he's too busy to speak with her and her fingers are poised to respond to the email before she pulls back, disquieted by her own knee-jerk reaction.
Why is she even giving this prat the time of day again? Client or not...
Instead, Cadence sets her out of office up early and pulls up her phone's contact list, scanning through an admittedly extensive list of potential meals and dates, depending on the evening. She settles on one, a Wall Street stock broker with dark hair and a thinly veiled humiliation kink that'll work wonders for her pent up rage this evening--he responds to her text about dinner within minutes, and she leans back in her chair, trying to use the gratification of being highly desired fight off the feeling of unease forming a pit in her stomach.
It's fine. He can admittedly play the game better than her usual prey, but they both know how the hunt ends. ]