Page 6 of Big Boss
“Yes, I’d say we’re done here. Give it a few minutes and then someone in uniform will take you wherever you’re going next.” I turn away from her once more and head to my big desk in the corner, where the message light is blinking away, most likely full of more bad news.
But she follows me. Her little pointy finger taps me on the back again, exactly like it did downstairs.
“I don’t think so, Mister Bossypants. That high and mighty attitude might work with your employees, but it’s not going to work with me. I’ll be the one to tell you when we’re done here.”
I give her another wicked grin. “Please believe me, nobody’s arguing about you possibly wanting to be in charge here.” Her sass takes me right back to my usual routine. “But I’m always in charge when I’m with a woman, any woman. And I’ll make sure you get everything you need, and then some.”
She gives me a flat, unimpressed stare, not rising to my attempts to bait her.
I step closer to her, until she has to turn her face upward to meet my gaze. “And now we’re done here, aren’t we?”
Her eyes narrow at my tone, but she doesn’t look away. “Actually, I think I’ve got a solution to both of our problems. You might not like it, but I think it could be the best available fix for both of us.”
I shift onto one foot and give her a stare that would send most people running. “Well? I’m waiting.”
“I need a job, and you need an assistant. Obviously, you ought to hire me.” She gives a little bounce and a tiny smile. “See? Problem solved for both of us.”
3
Erica
I can’t quite figureout the look on his face. Is he mad at me or trying not to laugh? It’s really hard to tell with him, partly because I keep getting distracted by the unusual color of his eyes.
I thought they were a really light gray color, but it turns out they’re a silver-blue instead. Not that I’ve been staring at his face or anything. I am definitely not staring. This guy might as well have an entire spool of caution tape wrapped around him because he’s definitely the type who gets into trouble.
I stick out my hand to shake his and give him my best eager assistant smile, and wait for him to respond.
And it takes forever, but eventually he tilts his head a little to one side then gives me a puzzled frown.
“Do you even know who I am?”
His words bring me up short because no, no, I don’t, but that’s probably the wrong thing to say to the person you’re trying to convince to hire you as his assistant. Isn’t it?
I weigh the next few words in my mouth, but if I’m going to work for this guy, and his last assistant was apparently a lying liar who lies, the only way for this to work at all is if I tell him the truth. Even if it’s ugly and he gets really mad and throws me out afterward.
“Well, not exactly. But I do know that you need an assistant who won’t sic the lowlifes of the press on you. Oh, and I already know how you like your coffee, so bonus.” It’s suddenly way too hot in here, and I can feel my hands twisting along the edges of my cheerful sunflower dress but I can’t seem to stop the movement.
“Huh.” He scrutinizes me closely.
“What? Do I have something on my face?” I manage to stop fiddling with my dress long enough to swipe at my mouth, smearing whatever was left of my lipstick all over my hand and presumably the lower left side of my face.
He raises his eyebrows at me. “Well, now you do. Let me get you a napkin or something.”
He sighs heavily as he finally breaks the staring contest we’ve been having and heads back to that massive desk facing the wall of windows.
I snort. Obviously, someone’s overcompensating a bit.
I swear that thing has its own zip code. Possibly its own gravitational pull. I wouldn’t ordinarily think a man like that would have makeup remover in his desk, but I’m confident he has something in there that will get this lipstick off my face because of the sheer size of that thing.
He crosses the room and hands me one of those individual makeup remover wipes that are usually in hotels. I unwrap it and take a few swipes at the lower half of my face.
“No, no. It’s on your right.” He sighs. “Yourotherright. Here, just let me—” He plucks the soft cloth from my hand and takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger, wiping my face for me.
I can feel my cheeks heating, and I squirm a little under his gentle touch.
“Hold still, Erica.” He’s close enough that I can feel him saying my name, the little press of his breath against my lips, and I can’t help it. I burst into laughter, right there in this handsome man’s face.
“I’m sorry,” I manage, when I see he’s giving me one of those looks again. “It’s just it tickles a bit, and I’m already sort of nervous or something.” I’m waving my hands around when I talk, and I have to force them back down to my sides again, where they resume fiddling at the hem of my dress again.
