Page 6 of The Assistant
Enough.Gritting my teeth, I sit up, peeling my overheated skin away from the cold, damp sheets. This is a big day, breaking in my new assistant. I only hope I didn’t make any noise audible from wherever she is. But who am I kidding? She’s probably still in bed, passed out over the materials I needed her to familiarize herself with. A grim smile tugs at the corners of my mouth on my way to the shower when I imagine how she must be cursing me for my cruelty. If she thinks that’s bad, she’s in for a hell of a time.
The fading nightmare washes down the drain along with the suds, and by the time I’m dried off and choosing my suit for the day, it’s nothing more than a blip on the radar. I know by now the only way to shake it off is to focus on even the mundane daily ritual of dressing and grooming. It gives my mind something else to turn to. The one and only time Dad didn’t scoff at the idea of therapy was in the months immediately after that day, and probably only because my nightly screaming annoyed him. Either that, or he was worried the staff would start talking, wondering about me. Regardless, it wasn’t out of concern for me. I know that much. But only the weak will whine and complain about shit like that, and I am anything but weak. I give myself a steady look in the mirror while sliding the knot in my silk tie up to my throat and nod at my reflection.
Time to break in my stepsister. Something else to turn my thoughts away from the ugliness of the past. Anticipation hums in my veins by the time I open my bedroom door.
“How do you like your eggs?” Maggie’s gentle voice floats from the kitchen, and I follow it, curious.
“Scrambled, please. Though I’m a little too nervous to want to eat.” Harper’s shaky admission freezes me on the spot, surprise and confusion fighting for dominance. She’s already awake?
Not only is she awake, she’s seated at the kitchen table, fully dressed and ready for the day.
Her gaze darts up from the tablet balanced on one hand, teeth grazing her plump bottom lip. “Good morning,” she offers, her voice clipped and professional, and not at all the way it sounded when she was talking to Maggie a moment ago.
That’s not what makes my tongue so thick and useless. “It’s an improvement,” I announce, taking in the fitted blouse and pencil skirt she chose for today. She shifts under the weight of my gaze, crossing her legs, set off perfectly by a pair of nude heels. Her neat, low ponytail couldn’t be more different from the bun she wore yesterday. With a little more work, she could almost appear polished.
But to hell with that when sheer hunger awakens low in my belly, like a sleeping serpent stirred to life. It’s going to take every ounce of control to focus on anything but the way her body fills out that skirt and the strain of the buttons holding her blouse closed over those tits. My mouth waters at the sight of them, but rather than bury my face between them like every instinct demands, I settle for taking a seat across from her and accepting the poached eggs and wheat toast Maggie places in front of me.
Looking up from my food, I notice the way Harper tries to stifle a yawn. “Late night?” I ask.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” she replies. This girl really wants to go to art school, doesn’t she? Somehow, she even manages to sound pleasant—almost perky.
Which of course makes me want to test her. She thinks she can handle anything? We’ll see about that. “What do I have on my schedule today?”
When she sets down the iPad, I know this is it. This is when she confesses to not having the first clue how to access my schedule or manage any of the tasks she’ll be responsible for.
“You’ll be in catch-up meetings with four senior executives to get their thoughts on a potential merger before your lunch meeting with Richard Belmont at La Strada. That will take place at noon and is slated to last for two hours. After that point, you have a video call at two-thirty back in your office, and your schedule is blacked out until four o’clock.”
She recites all of that without so much as glancing down at the tablet, and once she’s finished, she picks it up, one finger hovering over the screen. “Is there anything you need me to add?”
“I don’t think so.” All right, so she memorized a single day’s schedule. Not exactly a Herculean feat, though I can appreciate her eager attitude. “You must have worked all night.”
“I was busy,” she admits, going back to her scrambled eggs.
“That must be why you look so tired,” I muse, wrapping my mouth around a piece of toast to conceal the grin I can’t hold back at the way her head snaps up.Come on. Tell me what a dick I am.I know she’s dying to. Just like yesterday, when all that self-righteous rage hung around her in a cloud of heat. I want to see how far that fiery temper will take her and also have the pleasure of reeling her back in.
There’s no time to revel now. “Let’s move,” I murmur, expressing my thanks to Maggie before heading to the front door, where my briefcase is waiting. I expect Harper to scramble around, trying to catch up, but she’s ready to go.
Fine, so I’m slightly impressed, but it’s going to take a lot more than being attentive on the first day to convince me there’s anything remotely worthwhile in having her support me.
Because the pleasure of watching her hips sway as she walks on those mile-high heels can’t be the only benefit. I’m still not completely sure this isn’t a test from Dad to see if I can handle my new responsibilities while juggling a new employee. I only know there’s no room for failure here.
Which is why, getting out of the limo, I murmur, “Don’t embarrass me today.” Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t say a word, settling for a firm nod. Probably can’t trust herself to say anything. She’s already shown more self-control than I would’ve given her credit for. It bodes well, not that I would offer her the compliment.
She hasn’t earned it by the time we emerge from the elevator, so I can lead her down the long hall, which divides the building’s top floor. It’s a well-oiled machine up here. No chit-chat in the break room, no bullshitting over fantasy football or whatever these people use to fill their free time. Aside from a few soft murmurs of recognition from passing staff, there’s nothing but pleasant buzzing in the air as everybody works.
“This is your office.” I wave an arm toward the open door a few feet down from my own at the far end of the floor.
She stops in the doorway, and her mouth falls open before she can stop herself. “I have my own office?” she asks with disbelief.
“That’s the general idea.” She can pinch herself later. “And this office is mine.” I continue on, and soon the sound of her rapid footfalls rings out behind me.
It never fails. I walk into my office, looking down over the city, and a mixture of pride and satisfaction swells in my chest. Mine. It’s all mine.
And she knows it, which somehow sweetens the feeling.
“You are my general beyond these walls.” Going to my desk, I set down the case containing financials related to this potential merger. “Meaning you let no one through unless they have my approval. I don’t care how hard they cry about an emergency. If I don’t want to see them, they don’t exist, understood?”
“Got it.” The uncertainty in her voice is clear. Hell, it might be fear. I like the sound more than I should.
