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Once I’m alone, his words echo off the walls, haunting me, because I know them so well.I’m here if you need me.It’s the last thing I said to Claire three years ago.

Now she needs me.

And I can’t keep my promise.

8

Spencer

Rag in hand, I wipe at a thick leaf on the large bird-of-paradise plant in my new boss’s office. I thought I spotted dust, but it was just a glare from the sunlight. The plant is already sitting by a floor-to-ceiling office window, ensuring plenty of sun exposure. I poke my finger into the soil to find it balanced—not soaked, but not dry. I only recognized the plant because Hank, my prior boss, had several of these in his office. After accidentally drowning two, I learned how to properly tend to them. Apparently, my new boss doesn’t need my plant-care tips.

After pointlessly wiping a few more leaves on the already pristine plant, I look around to see what other menial tasks I can complete.Nothing.This place is spotless. I don’t have access to Mr. Hatcher’s calendar. Even if it wasn’t ten in the morning, I don’t know what I’m supposed to order him for lunch. Knowing my luck, I’d order orange chicken, unaware of his severe citrus allergy, and put my new boss in the hospital. According to my contract, I can only be fired for gross misconduct such as stealing or espionage. But I’m pretty sure accidentally killing my boss would also be classified as gross misconduct.

I have no choice but to sit and wait until Mr. Hatcher makes his way to his office this morning. Dawn told me he was in a lengthy finance meeting with her boss. After she led me to my assistant’s desk, right outside of Mr. Hatcher’s office, Dawn told me she’d check in before the end of the day. After ensuring I was set up in the company directory and could instant message her, she also programmed her number into my phone. Cryptically, she told me to contact her beforereactingto anything, in case she could help.

I’ve obviously landed smack-dab in the middle of aBeauty and the Beastsituation. Between Chelsea, Dawn, and all the pitying stares from employees this morning passing my newly occupied desk, I’m certain my new boss has tusks and a thick, shaggy mane. But here’s what I’ve learned in my years of working as an executive assistant: Everybody respects a strong work ethic. I don’t care how grumpy theotherMr. Hatcher is. I have nothing but good intentions here. There’s no way he can hate me for merely existing if I bust my butt to do a good job for him.

After circling the large office one more time, I pause by the baby grand piano. For the life of me, I can’t understand why someone would keep this in an office space. Surely they had to remove a wall to get this piano in here. No way it’d fit through the glass double doors. Unless you’re a composer, what purpose does it serve? Outside of proving your wealth and sophistication. I roll my eyes even though no one can see me. It’s pretty, but pompous.

I sit on the bench but leap like a startled cat when I hear something crack. Flinging open the piano bench lid, I assess the damage. The lid no longer opens and closes properly. One of the hinges is worn. It must’ve snapped under my weight when I sat.

Shit.Shit. Shit. I broke a seat.

Oh shut up,I mentally say to the impending body dysmorphic thoughts that are rearing their ugly heads. I don’t have time to wallow and self-deprecate about my expanding waistline. Obviously this bench already had damage. Logically, my ass alone didnotbreak this seat. But also, I’m skipping lunch today.

Dropping to my knees in front of the bench, I quickly run scenarios in my mind. I could shut the lid carefully, back away, and pretend I had nothing to do with this.But that’s a lie. No good.I could be honest with my boss when he returns and beg for forgiveness.Except he might impale me with one of his tusks.No, I’ve got it. I will handle it. That’s what a boss would want. I caused a problem, and I will fix it, quietly, without making a scene. I’ll call maintenance and have this repaired before the boss man even notices. I’d rather present him with the problemandthe solution simultaneously.

I pull out the small stack of sheet music lying in the bench to further assess the hinge, only to find a photograph hidden beneath the papers. A stunning, blue-eyed, crimson-haired woman is sitting cross-legged in a field filled with a sea of pink flowers. The sun is catching her hair, making it look like it’s on fire. Almost an exact miniature replica of the gorgeous woman is seated right next to her. The little girl’s legs are bent, her chin nestled into the space between her knees. They are both beaming. The girl is smiling at the camera as the woman smiles at who has to be her young daughter.

I don’t know what possesses me to pick up the photo that is not mine to touch. It just makes me feel so warm and whole. The mother gazes at her daughter like she’s the only wonder of the world. If I could sum up love in one photograph, I’d use this one. I know this look so well. It’s how my mom looked at Charlie and me. Such a beautiful picture…Why is this hiding in a bench?

“What the hell are you doing?”

I know who it is before I turn around. Of course I recognize his voice, but it’s the smell that gives him away. That sweet, sultry cologne that made me melt two nights ago at the club.Nateis Nathan. The piano…he said he played. I rise to my feet, trying to keep my knees together to avoid exposing myself in my skirt.

“You’re kidding me. What a small world. I’m your new assistant.” I’m grinning so hard it hurts. I was in my head about all the intimidating side comments this morning, but it was all a ruse. This man is no monster. He’s sweet, sassy, andsexy.His black suit jacket is open, no tie, the first button of his shirt undone, exposing just a slice of his slightly tan skin.

I’m so lost in my Cinderella moment, bewildered that I accidentally stumbled right into my prince, it takes me a moment to register that while I’m all smiles, his eyes are narrowed. Based on the thick scowl he’s wearing, he’s not excited to see me.

“Why are you in here going through my things?” Nate zeroes in on the picture I’m still holding.

I’m always quick with my words but a haze I can’t shake comes over me, jumbling my thoughts. I don’t know where to begin. I have so much to explain all at once, I end up explaining nothing at all. “I found it,” is all that manages to come out of my mouth.

“You found it?” he repeats, clearly unimpressed. “So you just take things you find, huh? Put it back.”

My heart is now a thoroughbred at the Kentucky Derby. It’s racing with all its might, and I think the finish line is me fainting. I’m so unnerved my hand trembles as I place the picture back at the bottom of the piano bench, replace the stack of sheet music, and gently close the lid. I grimace as it sits lopsided, evidence of my fuckup.

“I broke the bench. I’m very sorry. I’m on my way to call maintenance right now.”Oh, thank God.That was a lucid sentence at least.

“It was already broken. That’s not my concern. Why are you in my office snooping around?” He folds his arms across his chest. I have to divert my gaze because his glower is becoming too uncomfortable to endure.

“I wasn’t snooping. I was trying to make myself useful. I thought it’d be nice for me to tidy your office, except it’s?—”

“Not necessary. I have a cleaning crew.”

“Okay. Noted.”

I’m still avoiding eye contact, but I can feel the heat of his disdain.

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