Page 27 of Brassy Bigwig

“My new assistant finally seems to be getting the hang of how I like things to be run.”

“That’s actually why I called. I ran in to your new assistant today when I was there for my meeting.”

His voice sounds off, like there’s something wrong.

“What’s the matter? Did something happen?”

“No, not exactly, but…”

But? Come on, Dex. Spit it out.

“There’s no easy way to say this, but Genevieve is your new assistant.”

My heartbeat increases at the sound of her name, but Dex must be mistaken.

“What? No. Her name is Chloe. Chloe Gainesworth.”

“Genevieve is Chloe, D.”

Now it feels like my heart has stopped. There’s no way.

“I took her picture when she wasn’t paying attention. I’m sending it to you now,” he explains when I can’t come up with a response to the bomb he’s just dropped on me.

I pull the phone away from my ear and wait for the picture to come through. When it does, the biggest smile crosses my face. She’s leaning over her desk, reaching for something off camera, in a tight black pencil skirt and blue blouse that matches her eyes.

I’ve found her.

I tried looking her up a few times since Greece, but with no luck. My gratification is short-lived, however, when I realize what this means.

I fucked my assistant again.

“Did you talk to her? Did she see you?”

I feel like a fourteen-year-old boy all over again, asking my buddy if the girl I liked said anything about me.

“Yeah, we talked.”

“What did she say?”

“She told me she felt bad for not giving you her real name. She said she doesn’t give it out to random guys—”

“Random guys? Now I’m just a random guy?” I’m fuming.

“She did it to protect herself, D. She mentioned she had a bad experience in the past, so she only gives her real name once she gets to know someone better.”

“Well, we got to know one another pretty fucking well that night, if you ask me.”

“Look, you know I’ll always have your back, but you really don’t have a right to be angry with her, Trey Everett.”

Damn it. I hate it when he’s right.

“But she also said leaving your bed the next morning was one of the worst mistakes she’s ever made. She can’t stop thinking about you, and she gave me her number to pass along.”

“Well… shit. This isn’t what I was expecting when I saw you calling,” I laugh.

“There’s… something else, too,” Dex adds slowly, and it worries me.

“Which is?”

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