Page 15 of The Executive Assistant

“Don’t move,” Cameron told me sternly. He walked over to a water cooler in the corner of the room and pour me a small cup.“Drink. You need to sober up.” He placed the paper cup in my hand.

I frowned. Talk about killing a good buzz.

With an annoyed sigh, I downed the whole cup of water, but he wasn’t done yet. He made me drink several more cups, and we remained in that room for what felt like an eternity.

“You’re sabotaging your reputation,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, waving a floppy hand. I wasn’t in the mood to talk about this stuff.

“Have another,” he said, passing me another cup of water. I drank it, even though what I really wanted was more champagne. That, and to return to the ballroom to laugh at Russell.

“You can’t be sloppy and drunk like that. Not where people can see you,” he continued.

I rolled my eyes and made a talking hand with mymouth, signalling that I thought he was yapping nonsense.

He sighed. “You’re clearly still tipsy. Stay here. I’ll get you some food to sober you up.”

After he left, I considered ignoring him and returning to the ballroom. Who was he to boss me around? But suddenly, I couldn’t be bothered. I wasn’t as energized as I had been before, when I’d had a lot more champagne in my blood stream.

Finally, he returned, with a plate piled with canapés. “Here,” he said, pushing me into one of the seats at the conference table, and placing the plate in front of me. “Eat.”

I obeyed, not because I wanted to listen to him, but because the food did look really good. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was. I quickly helped myself to the tower of bite-sized savory snacks, and as my stomach filled, I sobered up more and more, until I realized exactly what I had done, back in the ballroom. Embarrassment burned in my throat.

Oh god. I’d acted like a bitch. An immature, unprofessional bitch. No, I didn’t care if I offended Russell and his stupid painting, but I’d behaved badly in front of Lindsey and Arthur and who knew who else.

“You can’t act like that again,” Cameron said, taking the seat across the table from me.

“I know,” I snapped, because he didn’t need to rub my face in it.

He didn’t seem to notice my irritation. “I’ll make excuses,” he continued. “I’ll say that you’ve had a rough day. That you’ve been exhausted from work.”

“You will not,” I said. “That makes me sound weak. Out of control.”

“I think you’re forgetting,” Cameron said calmly, “that youwereout of control and itwasweak of you to get drunk within the first half an hour of arriving.”

I stood up, my chair pushed back with an ugly screech. “Excuse me?” I demanded, my palms flat on the table. “You can’t speak to me like that.”

He didn’t blink, just looked at me with that same unfazed expression, which infuriated me even more. He was supposed to apologize. Even if there was some truth to his words, I was still his boss. There were standards about how you were supposed to speak to employers.

“Never boss me around again or chastise me like a child,” I told him, ice in my voice.

“Then don’t act like a child.”

I walked around the table, so I was standing right by him. “I think you need to remember, Cameron, that I can fire you whenever I want.”

His jaw tensed for just a second, before the side of his mouth turned up. Was he…smiling? “You can’t fire me. You need me.”

No, I don’t. I don’t need you at all. In fact, most days I can barely stand you.

He was close enough that I could see the different shades of blue in his eyes, so vivid and clear like sapphires.

“There are hundreds, even thousands, of people out there with your same qualifications. Some with even better.”

He stood up, and I stumbled a step backwards. When he’d been sitting down, I’d almost forgotten how tall he was. Now he was at his full height, towering and looking down at me. “You don’t need someone with the best qualifications. You need someone who is brutally honest with you,” he said. “You need someone to look after you. I help you. I want to help you.”

I couldn’t say anything. I felt frozen, staring up at him, as each of his words hit me deep in my chest like a bullet.

“I care about you,” he said, more quietly.

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