Page 3 of Wham, Bam, Marry Me, Ma’am
Chapter 2
Rachel
"Oh no!" I wobble slightly on bare feet as the elevator ascends. "No, no, no. Damn it." Lowering my oversized tote to the floor, I dig through it frantically.
Please let me somehow have picked up Hermione's bag with a magical pocket hiding a pair of women's dress shoes.
Glancing up to the elevator's rapidly rising numbers, I groan, shoving the socks and sneakers I've already removed into my bag in frustration. I tap my bare foot on the cold tile of the elevator, praying I'm the first one in to work today. Our company takes up three floors of the Aster-Bruce building downtown. My desk is on the executive floor, where, in addition to managing schedules and organizing travel, I am invited to the leadership meetings and handle all event planning, big or small, for the entire company. While I only assist the CFO, Weston Billings,and CMO, Barrett Billings, when they are in the office, I'm the lead assistant to the CEO, Vaughn Billings.
Billings Corp.'s mission is eco-conscious research and design. We are responsible for packaging, supplies, and technology with the goal of extending life, for the planet and people. In the five months I've worked at Billings Corp., I've fallen in love with my job. I've never worked for a company so passionate about their mission, and it has changed my life to contribute to society while still getting paid. And I get paid well for what I do.
The elevator doors open and I step out at the c-suite floor, moving quickly down the hall and past the large offices. I relax a little when I see Barrett and West's office doors still closed. Not here yet. Both men typically utilize an open-door policy while in the office. I eye the closed mahogany door closest to my desk. Mr. Billings is most certainly in. The entire office is on a first name basis with everyone, including the executives, but try as I might, I can't call the grumpy Mr. Billings by his first name.
At least, not when I'm at work.
At home in the middle of the night,Vaughneasily escapes past my lips, usually on a moan. My cheeks heat from that image. Did I forget to mention my boss is a stone-cold fox? He's the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. He's all business. Grumbly and confident. His hands look like he could give a spanking and then find a way to soothe the pain.
Down, girl, I reprimand my horny libido.Some of us have work to do today.
I sink into my desk chair and open the bottom drawer where I've stashed a back-up pair of shoes for work. Except, they're missing. I groan. I loaned them to Stacey in accounting a few weeks ago when she left hers in her daughter’s diaper bag at daycare.
Damn it!
I wiggle my computer mouse and send a quick message to Stacey to ask if she has my shoes at her desk. My breath catches, and my heart flutters when I find an email from Mr. Billings.
FROM:Vaughn S. Billings
TO:Rachel D. Diver
Tues, 11/5 6:15AM
Subject:Today's Meeting
Rachel,
Note - I've invited Clinton Mitchell to attend today's meeting, in addition to the Ludlow, Price, & Warner team. Please prepare accordingly.
V.
I get into work early most days, arriving before the craziness starts, especially when Barrett and West are both in town, but I never beat Vaughn here. To be fair, he lives in the building's penthouse, so his commute is minimal; although, I wouldn't be surprised if he sleeps at his desk. Or maybe he doesn't sleep at all. Like a robot, or a sexy shark.
Do sharks sleep?
I wonder if he even owns a bed. An image of Vaughn tangled up in bedsheets has me curling my bare toes into the plush carpet. I shake my head and try to banish the sexy thoughts about my boss.
Glancing at his closed door again, I debate whether sneakers or bare feet look more professional while I wait for Stacey'sresponse. Deciding the floor will be empty for at least another twenty minutes, I pad barefoot down the hall to the small kitchenette to make coffee.
Since I've been employed here, Vaughn Billings has said few non-work-related words to me. I don't blame him. He didn't want to hire me. Told me so in the interview, but I like to think I've made him regret that decision.
I would guess previous assistants might call Mr. Billings a micro-manager, but I recognize his need for control as a way to manage his anxieties. Double and triple-checking every detail is not a reflection on his perception of my abilities. On the contrary, I would not still have my job if he didn't see me as efficient and capable. I recognize that his need for total control is a way to stop his obsessive thoughts, and I am happy to provide reassurance, because the truth is, I'm good at my job.
And a part of me likes to imagine what else he might like to control with me. Thank god he can't read my thoughts. He'd send me to HR in two seconds.
It's quiet as I fill the coffee pot with water. I open the sleek cupboard in search of the tin of fancy coffee the Billings brothers all prefer. I've become addicted to it since I started working here as well.
"Good lord. Who put it up there?" I mutter.
Lifting up on my tiptoes, I stretch for the high shelf. I groan as my fingertips graze the underside of the tin, pushing it farther out of reach. Damn it.
