Page 18 of The Physical Attraction Seminar
“Oh, god. You still want me to work for you?”
I give her a pointed look. “The job is yours if you want it. I had no plans to interview anyone else, and with my current workload, I just can’t devote the time to search for a new assistant.”
“Okay…” She nods, her voice trailing off, and I can sense there’s more she wants to express, but she remains silent, her eyes darting elsewhere.
Leaning forward, I place myself closer to her on the desk, meeting her eyes in an attempt to give her a reassuring look. “If we’re going to be working together, I want you to feel comfortable enough to tell me anything. What is it that you want to say?”
Lyla lets out a pent-up breath before she speaks. “Look. I don’t want to be an assistant forever. I’m more than happy to start out in this role, but I’ve been an assistant for seven years. I’d eventually like to take on more tasks and responsibilities outside of my day-to-day assistant duties.” She pauses to take a deep breath. “If you’re looking for a long-term assistant to stay with you until you retire or you’re not willing to let me grow within the company, then I think it would be best if I seek employment somewhere else.”
She threw all her cards on the line. And I don’t need a mirror to know there’s a glint in my eyes as I stare back at her.
“Would you look at that? Here I am, agreeing to your rules again.”
“Are you… flirting with me?”
“I came down your throat last night and you’re surprised that I’m flirting with you?”
“Jesus, Barrett. You’re my boss now. You can’t say that.”
“I know, I know.” I roll my eyes. “Speaking of which, if we’re going to work together, we’re going to have to be professional. Are you capable of that?”
“AmIcapable of that?” She rears back her head, and a playful grin pulls at my cheeks. “The real question is whether or not you're the one capable of that, especially since you're flirting with me during an ‘interview.’” She makes mock quotes with her fingers.
“I’ll manage.”
A shared look between us triggers the memories of last night, and they come flooding back at lightning speed. A minute of silence passes before Lyla opens her mouth to speak, “Consider this my formal acceptance of your offer.”
I nod in agreement.
Without hesitation, she springs up from her chair and strides purposefully toward the door. Before she can make it too far, I quickly call out her name to get her attention. “Would you have stayed?”
I know I shouldn’t ask. I know it’s not myplaceto ask now that I’m her boss. On Monday and every day after, I’ll be a pillar of professionalism. But right now, I need to confirm that my feelings about last night weren’t one-sided.
“What?” She whirls around on her heels with a confused expression clouding her face. “What do you mean?”
“Last night. If we never came up with the rules…” I struggle to finish my sentence, suddenly unsure if I want to hear her answer.
“Yes,” she mumbles so quietly that I almost miss it.
Our gaze lingers for an extended moment, stretching beyond what would be deemed appropriate before I give a subtle nod. At least I can take solace in the fact that she felt the same way as I did.
“I’ll see you on Monday, then,” I confirm, and she gives me a closed-mouth smile before turning to walk away. “Oh, and Lyla?” With a subtle flick of her head, her brown hair sways, catching my attention as she looks back at me. “Don’t be late.”
SEVEN
LYLA
“Good morning,Banks Brothers Enterprises. Please hold. Good morning, Banks Brothers Enterprises. Please hold.” A strawberry blonde with sparkling green eyes sits in the receptionist area, repeating the phrase into her headset while tabbing through calls on the standard black office phone.
It’s hard not to gasp as I step out of the elevator onto the 44th floor lobby of the B.B.E. building. I’ve passed this place hundreds of times on my commute to the Solus office and never once spared it a second glance. Now, as I stand slack-jawed at the entrance, a fluttery feeling erupts low in my stomach as I take in the luxurious office space that surrounds me.
When it comes to interior design, I’ve never really had a knack for it, and decorating is no exception. Up until last year, when Camila and I moved in together, I had only known the cramped confines of a tiny apartment shared with several other girls. It was hard to find interest inenhancing the area when my only personal space consisted of a tiny twin-sized bed and the bottom drawer of the bathroom vanity. If it weren’t for Camila’s aesthetic eye, our apartment would’ve looked like a clone of an IKEA showroom.
So, while I can’t pinpoint the exact reasoning, there is something about this space that subtly whispers, “This is a trillion-dollar company.” To my left, the chairs in the small waiting area are pristine, not a cushion out of place or a single crinkled magazine in sight. In one corner, there was a small setup with coffee and snacks that looked as if no one had ever touched it.
“Good morning, Lyla.” The receptionist waves me over to the reception desk with an ear-to-ear grin.
I stand frozen in the middle of the foyer for a second, my body tense with uncertainty as I quickly glance over my shoulder to confirm she’s speaking to me. I’m the only one lingering in the lobby, but I know for a fact that I’ve never seen this girl before in my life. How did she already know my name?
