Page 16 of Ruthless Mr. Ricco
With my enjoyment hidden behind my professional façade, I watch through my lashes and study the list as his mouth opens and closes a few times before he huffs and inputs his information.When he thrusts my phone back toward me, I take it.
“Thank you, Mr.Brunswick.I have three questions,” I say.
His annoyance triples, but I don’t care.It would be nice to have him as an ally in these muddy waters, but by his lack of greeting, it won’t be an easy feat.
“If you’re just going to complain like all the others, then—”
“Does the space require disinfecting or aesthetic cleaning, where are the necessary supplies for bullet points seven and eight, and is there a specific coffee shop for the drink order or will any delivery suffice?”
Seconds tick by as I wait for his response.Mr.Brunswick stares at me as though I grew a second head.I sigh and check my watch.
He crosses his arms over his chest.
“Mr.Ricco didn’t tell me he was hiring another PA,” he scowls.
Ah.He’s protecting his position.My frustrations slough off my shoulders and meld into the glittering floor.I know how hard it can be to keep a decent job.
“I’ve never been a personal assistant and have no aims to take your position, but I have over ten years of experience in different sections of the service industry, so I’ll do my best to make your life as easy as possible while I’m here,” I vow.
His once-over holds curiosity and distrust, but the worst of the hostility fades from his eyes.
“Why did you take this internship?”he asks.
I pause.It seems Mr.Ricco told him nothing about me.Eight minutes isn’t enough to explain everything.
“May I answer that question after I complete the list?”
Surprise lights Mr.Brunswick’s eyes.He gnaws the inside of his lip before running his fingers through his blond hair and sighing.
Classically handsome with a tall, thin frame, the carefully mussed hairstyle fits him well.Carol and the other ladies from the class reunion would fawn over his looks, but even without our unpleasant introduction, I would have no interest in him.Romance and work don’t mix.
“The coffees are already on their way, the supply closet is around that corner, and the meeting room is already clean.It only needs to be organized,” he admits.
The haughty petulance in his tone is so unlike what I expect that I blink in surprise.
I smile in relief but stick my phone in my pocket and shift my grip on my briefcase.
“You don’t strike me as someone who would put their neck on the line for a newbie.How early were you here this morning?Are weekend meetings normal?If Mr.Ricco intends for me to assist you, how can I better help next time?”
My relief and excitement get the better of me, and I rapid fire the questions before I can think better of it.Working as an assistant to a personal assistant isn’t ideal, but it’s better than work as a janitor, waitress, or any of the other part-time jobs I held over the last decade.
“I’m sorry, that’s too many questions at once,” I concede.“Since you already did so much this morning, I’ll finish the room.You can put your feet up in the lobby while you wait for the coffee.”
He doesn’t move away from the door.I tighten my grip on my briefcase and prepare for a battle.
He surprises me again by holding out his hand for me to shake.I take it.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ms.Simons.Mr.Ricco prefers the middle of the room empty and the seating arrangements evenly spaced along the northern and eastern walls,” he says.
I take the olive branch and get to work the moment we end our handshake, placing my briefcase on the floor beside the door as I enter the room and grabbing the nearest bean bag.I don’t fault my new potential ally for standing in the hall and watching for a few minutes.If he’s worked as Matteo’s personal assistant long enough to be vetting newcomers, then he probably has many more hidden responsibilities than he lets on.I also respect how much pride he takes in his work, since most office workers are soundly in their beds early Sunday mornings.
After placing the first bean bag near the corner of the northern and eastern walls, I count the seating options and form a rough chart in my head.Less than five minutes later, I’ve cleared the circular rug in the center of the room and positioned the tables where they won’t impede anyone’s view of the screens.When the odd number of stools threatens to sabotage my plan, I scoot the tallest table into the corner where the window and glass wall meet and place stools on three sides.
As I bend to grab the last two bean bags, movement in the hall catches my eye.Expecting Mr.Brunswick, I paste on a reassuring smile and turn as I lift the oversized bean bags off the floor.
My heart leaps into my throat as broad shoulders fill the doorframe.The golden flecks in Matteo’s hazel eyes shine in the early morning light.
He has no right looking so handsome and refreshed so early in the morning.After tossing and turning all night, I feel like a dirty washcloth wrung out and left to dry all wrinkled and gross on the side of the kitchen sink compared to his glowing face and perfect body.
