Page 47 of Selfie

“Fine,” she grumbles as she puts Spike in my arms, then darts down the hall.

Still calm from the prior embrace of his preferred mama, Spike snuggles against my chest. I stroke from his little nose over the slant of his forehead. “Are you that sad, buddy?” He responds to my voice, lifting his head so I can see his adorable pouty bottom lip. “If you could just keep it in your furry pants, you could live with your girlfriend. You did this to yourself, you little horndog.”

Mweeep. Mweeep.Based on the look he’s giving me, I’m pretty sure his squeaks are guinea pig for “screw you.”

I pet him from head to rump anyway and he melts under the attention. His little butt is wiggling with glee. I use my arms like an elevator, raising Spike up so I can kiss the top of his head. “But thank you for making my sister so happy.”

There was an unexpected plot twist.

Due to heavy construction on Baker Street that I was most definitely not expecting, there was no time to drop Spike off at home. Chelsea didn’t say a damn thing when I greeted her at the front desk with a pet carrier in hand. As soon as I got to my desk, I stowed Spike away underneath my desk. He’s out of anyone’s sight line, and I can nudge his carrier with my toe if he gets too vocal. Luckily he’s been mostly silent all morning, probably distracted from all the new sights and smells.

“Look, Spike,” I say, tapping the side of his cloth enclosure with the point of my high heel. “If you just behave untillunchtime, I promise you a small pile of fruit when we get home. Our little secret. Just don’t go ballistic with your whining…please.”

As usual, my inbox is empty except for the Monday company newsletter. It should be easy to slip away a smidge early for my break today.

Ping!

Or so I thought.

An email from Nathan arrives right at 8:00 a.m. It’s a quick request. Apparently I’m to call a construction company and ask for a detailed breakdown of an invoice to be sent over immediately. Easy enough. I glance through the glass doors into Nathan’s office. It’s empty.

All right, well, let me knock this out really quick. I reach for my desk phone when there’s another email alert. At 8:02 a.m., there’s another request from Nathan. This time I need to reschedule a finance meeting for ten o’clock this morning.Hm, that’s an exec meeting.Definitely takes precedence. Abandoning the phone, I compose an email to all the senior finance executives and their executive assistants to at least let them know of the cancellation.

I barely have a greeting typed out when another email comes in. The time stamp reads 8:04 a.m. Another request for a same-day bakery order for a senior partner’s retirement party today. There are no other instructions other than, put it on the company card, and make sure there are no nuts due to some allergy sensitivities.

By the time another email comes in at 8:06 a.m., I finally get it through my thick skull that this is Nathan’s revenge. He tried to smoke me out of my job by an impossibly difficult task. It didn’t work. Now, he’s relying on volume.

Nathan scheduled all of these emails. Ten more arrive in two-minute intervals. By half past eight, I’m sitting with an entireweek’s worth of tasks that all need to be doneright now.Fists balled, I growl in frustration. He’s such a dick. I could just walk out.I really could.

I have other options. Nathan doesn’t deserve me as an assistant or a friend. But something very stubborn, deep inside me just can’t admit defeat. He wants me to quit, which is why I won’t. At this point, I’m acting as childish as he is.

I allow myself two minutes to fantasize about standing up, kicking back my chair, and waltzing out of here with my head held high, while giving Nathan the bird.God, that feels good.But once the two minutes is over, I get my ass to work.

By the time Nathan walks into the office, well past ten, I’ve already ordered the retirement party cake, contacted the construction company about the missing invoice, rescheduled the finance meeting, and knocked out about three other mindless tasks.

I try to ignore him as he walks past my desk, pretending to be buried in my laptop and far too busy for morning pleasantries, but to my dismay he stops. I have no choice but to acknowledge him, which I do with a disinterested stare and a muffled, “G’morning.”

“You look busy,” he says in a monotone, devoid of any emotion.

“That I am.” I try to match his lifeless tone.

Damn, he looks good today. His white dress shirt with the subtle yellow and blue pinstripes fits a little more snug than his usual shirts. It hugs the curves of muscular shoulders, broad chest, and well-defined arms. It makes sense. Vampires have to be alluring to trap their unsuspecting victims.

“Did you get my email?”

“Oh, yes. All of them.”

He shrugs with one shoulder. “Look, I heard you at the restaurant. You wanted to help? Here it is. If you can keep up, then maybe…”

“Maybe, what?”

Nathan diverts his gaze. “I don’t know. I’m taking it day by day, as you should too. Really think about if you’re happy here and even want to work for me. Being my assistant isn’t a cakewalk.”

“I can handle it,” I say defensively.

“Fine. Did you get to the email about the residential complaints? You’ll need to contact each of the property management liaisons for the PINs to the voicemail boxes.”

I pivot in my chair to face him. “I did get that email. But a little context would help. What exactly am I looking for?”

---