Page 30 of The Greek Billionaire's Rejected Secretary

I stare at my phone, resisting the urge to throw it against the wall.

This isn't me, dammit.

I don't chase women, and I certainly don't obsess over whether they'll call me back.

So why have I been checking my phone every five minutes like some lovesick teenager?

Why the hell can't I stop thinking about her?

Shayla has become even more distant since that night in the boardroom. If she was stiff in my presence before, now she's downright unapproachable, with the way she hides behind her polite smiles and efficiency.

A knock on my office door breaks my train of thought. I should've known better than to hope it would be her—

"Mr. Kontides?"

But it's not. I should've known it wouldn't be her, so why the hell do I keep tormenting myself like some hopeless idiot?

"Today's brief is ready for your review, sir." Willa, one of the junior associates, is the newest one to unwittingly join this stupid game of pass-the-message that Shayla has been playing lately. "Also, Ms. Tolentino asked me to remind you about the charity auction tonight."

"Anything else?"

"She, um, also said to remind you that your tux came back from the cleaners and is hanging in the partners' lounge. That's pretty much it, sir."

Of course, that was it. Did I really think she'd pass a message that isn't work-related?

Enough of this.

I stand abruptly, decision made. If she won't come to me, I'll go to her.

Her desk is empty, her computer screen dark. Where—

"Looking for Shayla?"

What the—

Lissa White stands by the water cooler, designer briefcase in hand.

"Deposition prep, remember?" She clucks her tongue. "You normally don't miss things like this. Is something wrong?"

"You'd like that, won't you?"

"Naturally. But I also enjoy winning fair and square, so...if you're looking for your secretary, she mentioned stepping out for lunch." Lissa checks her watch. "Our meeting is set at one. You still have time to catch up to her. And just scratch that itch—"

"Don't." No one should speak about my secretary like that.

But this makes Lissa's face actually soften. "You took offense. Good."

And no one should look at me like the way Lissa's looking at me right now.

"It's not what you think," I snap.

Because whatever it is she's thinking, she's wrong.

"I haven't said a word."

Why are women so damn good at pointing out something that's completelynotthe point at all?

"If you want my advice—"

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