Page 10 of The Assistant
“Going out?” Maggie pokes her head out from the kitchen when she hears me take my keys from the dish by the front door.
“Yes, I’m going to pick up Harper,” I explain, texting my driver as I speak. “Won’t be long.” If Richard has half a brain, he won’t put up a fight. And if he does decide to throw a tantrum because I’m taking his toy away before he’s finished playing? That’s his problem. My father might go out of his way to appease men like him, but I don’t need to. It’s time I remembered that.
On my way down to the street where the car will be waiting, I place a call to Richard’s assistant. “I need you to tell me where your boss went to dinner tonight,” I explain as the elevator doors slide open. “He invited my assistant, but there’s been an emergency, and I need her to come in to help.”
“By all means,” the girl replies, a little breathless. “I’ll reach out to him to let him know.”
“That won’t be necessary.” No, this is the kind of thing I have to do on my own, face-to-face. “But thank you. I’m already on my way out the door. If you could just let me know where I can find them.” It’s not another thirty seconds before I have a name—I have to wonder if this poor girl, whoever she is, wishes somebody would come rescue her from time to time. I doubt Richard would hire anyone he doesn’t find fuckable.
And this is the sort of person Dad fraternizes with and holds up as an example.
It’s no surprise to find the restaurant dimly lit, intimate, just like it’s not a surprise when the host leads me to a table tucked into the back corner. I’m surprised anyone could read a menu back here; it’s so dark. Richard doesn’t notice me right away, thanks to how closely he leans over toward Harper, almost nuzzling her neck while she sits frozen, bolt upright, like there’s a steel rod against her back. Everything about her screams discomfort, anxiety—but what the hell does he care?
If there was any lingering doubt whether I should do this, it’s long gone by the time I clear my throat loud enough to earn their attention. Harper’s eyes go wide, but at the same time, some of the tension flows from her like she’s relieved. I would be, too.
It’s Richard’s reaction that makes me glad I went to the trouble tonight. He tries to play it off at first, chuckling lightly but without humor. “Dawson. What a treat, seeing you twice in one day.”
I hope he doesn’t think he could get very far in Vegas with a shit poker face like his. The man wants to stomp me for breaking inon his good time. “I was thinking along the same lines,” I drawl with my own empty smile. “And I wish I could say this is a relaxed, social call, but I’m afraid I’m here to steal my assistant away. There’s been an emergency, and I’ll need her for the rest of the evening.”
She’s a scared rabbit with a pulse fluttering hard, and fast enough in her neck that’s easy to see from where I’m standing, even though I’m practically in the dark. Her wide-eyed gaze slides to Richard, whose own eyes glitter dangerously.
“Are you sure this is absolutely necessary? We haven’t yet received our entrées, and I’m sure Harper must be hungry. You work her so hard, after all.”
“Oh, you’ve started taking time to eat during these… business dinners?” This time I don’t have to force a grin, not when he’s obviously choking on outrage.Come on. Start with me. You won’t like the way it ends.
There’s nothing he can come back with, so I turn to Harper again. “Let’s go. I’m already running late.”
She nods quickly, gulping before murmuring something to Richard that’s probably a weak thanks—though for what, I don’t know. She never even got dinner out of it. It used to be that he wouldn’t bother going through the motions. Maybe his age is catching up with him.
I’ve stopped caring by the time I step outside again, Harper on my heels. She hasn’t said a word, not that she needs to. I sense her relief; I hear it in her shallow breathing that doesn’t slow until we are in the limo and pulling away from the curb.
Finally, she grits out, “Are… you… serious?”
I can’t contain my surprise when she turns in the seat, glaring at me like I’m the one who practically assaulted her in the middle of a restaurant. “Did you really just do that?” She’s not breathing fast because she’s grateful after a close call. She’s angry. Furious.
And it makes me laugh, though not because anything is funny. “Excuse me?”
“Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? Who do you think you are? Strutting around like the only rooster in the barnyard with your chest all puffed out? You think you have the right to order people around? Is that what you think?”
I must be imagining this. There’s no fucking way I’m the bad guy. “Let me get this straight. I got you out of a situation where there was literally no way for you to win,” I remind her, careful to keep my voice low and controlled or else I might not be able to reel myself back in. “Unless I’m wrong, and you were enjoying the way he invaded your space and looked like he was about to devour you.” The memory sours my stomach.
“I was doing what I thought I had to do.”
“And I decided you didn’t have to do it anymore. You should be on your knees, sucking my cock in gratitude.”
Her cheeks go dark red before she slams herself against the seat, arms folded. “No, thank you,” she whispers.
“Exactly what the hell do you think you’re wearing? What?” I scoff. “Did you think you could turn him off by wearing some bulky, sloppy outfit? All you did was make me look bad. Now everybody will think I hired the sort of assistant who would dress like a slob for a nice dinner. You know what? We are going to remove that possibility tonight.”
She’s still sputtering and bitching, but it’s easy to tune her out. She’s nothing but background noise, like a buzzing gnat, by the time I place the call to the owner of a shop where I’ve spent a small fortune over the years. “This is Dawson Price,” I announce, skipping over the small talk. “I need a favor.”
“What can we do for you?”
Glancing Harper’s way out of the corner of my eye, I explain, “I’m bringing you a new customer. I need a full wardrobe. Professional.”
“Are you joking?” Harper hisses like she overheard me plotting a murder instead of treating her to a new wardrobe she couldn’t hope to afford on her own.
Ignoring her, I ask, “Can you have a team there in ten minutes?”
