Page 56 of The Billionaire's Assistant

I hurried to get ready, wanting to be at the office before Ben with breakfast and coffee waiting for him. On the way in, I called my favorite bakery and made a rush delivery order. They knew how well I tipped, so I was confident they’d have it there before either of us arrived.

I left my office door open, so I would see Ben come in. When he stepped off the elevator, I could tell he was trying his best to hold himself straight and walk normally, but I knew he was in pain. If it had been almost two days and he was still having trouble walking, he never should have come to work yesterday.

“Benjamin, I need to see you.” I kept my voice level and professional. I was sure there were plenty of people in the office who suspected all the time Ben and I were behind closed doors wasn’t spent going over paperwork, but I wasn’t going to be blatant about it.

When Ben walked into my office, I motioned for him to shut the door. He looked between me and the door nervously, then closed it. Was he worried I was going to push for details of his “accident”?

“Come sit down. I have breakfast for you.”

“You didn’t need to do that. I ate some toast before I left the house.”

“That’s not enough. I know you love chocolate croissants and anyone who works for me always needs more coffee.”

“How did you know I love chocolate croissants?”

“Every time we’ve had pastries in the office, that’s what you choose.”

His mouth dropped open, but he closed it quickly. “You noticed that?”

“I notice everything about you, Benjamin.”

He smiled and sat down slowly, gripping the arms of the chair.

“Why did you come to work yesterday if you were injured?”

He frowned. “Because there was no point in sitting at home.”

“You have sick days here. I offer a generous leave package.”

Ben sighed. “I know that, but there was work that needed to be done and—”

“You could’ve done a lot of it from home.”

“I work better here.”

I studied him for a moment. Had he come in because he wasn’t safe at home? I would absolutely not stand for that. I’d already been worried about where he lived. There was no security beyond a deadbolt and a chain on the door.

“You shouldn’t be here. How badly are you hurt?”

“I’m just bruised. I’m stiff and sore but—”

“Did you see a doctor?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t need to.”

“You have a very good health plan here.” Not that it mattered, I’d pay any medical bills he had.

“I don’t like doctors. I’ll be fine.”

“Let me see how bad it is.”

“What?”

I raised my brows. “Don’t tell me you’re going to be shy with me now.”

He looked away, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. “Miles, really, you’re making too big a deal out of this.”

“Then I’m going to ask you again like I did the other night. Is there something you need to tell me?”

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