Page 25 of The Assistant
When we’re both finished, I collapse on the bed beside her and watch her body as her chest rises and falls, recuperating from what just happened.
I try not to think about Malik as we fall asleep. There has to be some way out of this because I can’t let her be married off to someone like him. Harper is mine. I’m not letting anything happen to her.
Chapter 12
Harper
The sun shinesthrough the curtains of my room, and I feel Dawson in the bed beside me scrambling to get up before I can even open my eyes.
“Fuck, it’s so late,” Dawson says under his breath alongside a myriad of curses.
I sit upright and cover myself with a sheet so he can’t see me. I don’t know what good it’s going to do, he’s already seen all of me in a much more intimate way than this. Still, there’s something awkward about waking up in the morning next to him that makes me feel like I need to hide myself.
“What time is it?” I ask, yawning and reaching over to grab my phone from the nightstand.
“Too late for breakfast, that’s for damn sure,” Dawson groans as he jumps to his feet. “We’ve got to get a move on if we want to make it to the office on time. We should just shower together to save time.”
My heart races at the idea, and I find myself eagerly nodding. Last night was spectacular, and if I can get another taste of that this morning, I’m not opposed.
I have no idea what we are. Am I still just his assistant? Is this some game he’s playing just to fuck with my head? I can’t rule that out yet.
I follow him into the master bathroom, amazed at how much more lavish it is than the one I’ve been using. The shower is huge, with dual showerheads specifically made for couples showering together in the morning. There’s something intimate about him inviting me to shower here, like it’s an unspoken acknowledgment of a deeper relationship.
Dawson turns on one faucet and invites me to stand beside him. Water pours over both of our heads, and I look up at him, half expecting him to wrap his arms around me and hold me close to him. Of course, I should know by now that Dawson isn’t going to do anything I expect.
“Get moving, we don’t have all day,” Dawson says, encouraging me to start washing my body with the soap provided.
I turn away from him, trying to fight against the disappointment I feel growing in my chest. So, the shower is purely for saving time. Turns out he didn’t want any late-morning canoodling, as I might have suspected initially.
As soon as both of us are completely free of soap suds, Dawson turns off the shower and tosses me a towel, and sends me on my way to get dressed for work. Maggie is in the kitchen with an unsurprised smile on her face waiting for breakfast orders, and I have to politely tell her there won’t be any today.
Dawson and I both get dressed and immediately rush down to the entrance of the building to climb into our limo. He’s stressed out for the duration of the drive, worried about being late to work, even though he’s the CEO of the company. Certainly, he’s allowed to be late every now and then. But I wouldn’t dare say that to Dawson.
We arrive at our office building only ten minutes late. That might as well be a full workday to Dawson, by the way he’s acting.
Lenora, the receptionist, stops me as I pass her desk with a wide smile on her face. “You have a surprise waiting for you in your office.”
“A surprise?” I shake my head, not understanding what it could be. I don’t have any friends, and by the way Dawson’s been acting this morning, he’s definitely not sending me any surprises. My mom sure as hell wouldn’t.
“Maybe you have a secret admirer,” Lenora says in a teasing voice before rushing around her desk to answer a call.
At the very least, Dawson seems intrigued by the information as he storms into my office before I have a chance to open the door myself. I follow him inside to see an oversized, beautiful floral arrangement sitting right in the center of my desk. Bright pink flowers mixed with violets and deep reds, all symbolic of deep love and passion.
My heart beats a little faster, and at first, I think this must be a mistake. The only guy who would potentially send me this is Dawson, and by the look on his face, it’s not from him. I don’t really have any other suitors.
“There’s a note,” Dawson says, grabbing it from the center of the arrangement and handing it to me. I take a tentative step forward and grab it from him, hesitating before opening the small envelope and seeing who it’s from.
My heart drops when I see the name, and I feel like the air has been siphoned from the room, and I’m going to suffocate. My throat is dry, and everything around me is fuzzy. This is probably the last person I wanted something like this from.
“Who the hell is this from?” Dawson asks, his tone more demanding.
I pause for a moment, folding the envelope and looking at Dawson with a heavy weight in my eyes. “It’s from Malik.”
I don’t know why he would send me a bouquet like this. I barely spoke to him yesterday, and I think I was clearly uncomfortable. Something like this is entirely unwarranted. Plus, Dawson swept me away from him quickly enough that he has almost no information about me.
I don’t know much about Malik, but if everything Dawson told me about him is true, he’s not the type of person I want knowing where I work. I spend eight to twelve hours a day here, depending on Dawson’s moods, and I don’t want to be easily found by creepy old men. This entire situation makes me incredibly uncomfortable.
Why did my mom have to choose Henry of all people to marry this time? None of this would have been happening if it weren’t for that. She sure doesn’t know how to pick them.
