by Katy Evans
I’m a little reluctant to hand Rosie over. She’s my niece after all. I should be able to keep her happy, and not have to hand her off to my assistant. But at this point I’m willing to try anything to keep her quiet. But failing that, I think it would be pretty funny to see India try and fail to quiet her. So even though it feels like a failure, I hand Rosie to India.
India’s face is soft and kind in a way I’ve never seen it before. Usually her expression is hardened, like she’s constantly ready for an argument. I guess I must bring that attitude out in her.
Now she holds Rosie close and begins to hum. It’s kind of tuneless, but somehow it seems to work in calming Rosie down. India carries on, perching on the edge of my bed and rocking the baby. It occurs to me that this is the first time a woman—other than my cleaner—has been in my room for a while. Not that the circumstances are particularly romantic—a screaming baby and an ex-employee don’t make for a sexy environment. Still, I’m glad to have India here. Within minutes Rosie is calming down.
I stare in amazement at India.
“How...how the hell did you do that?”
India raises an eyebrow. “No cussing. Children present.”
“That hardly counts as cussing.”
“Whatever,” she says smugly, smiling up at me. She continues swaying Rosie. “My mom always told me that when I was a baby, I was difficult to handle...”
“Still are,” I mutter, but she doesn’t seem fazed.
“She said the trick she learned was to always stay calm. That’s what she did to end my tantrums.” India shrugs.
“So that’s why Rosie responds to you and not me?”
India shrugs again, a wicked smile spreading across her face, her dark eyes twinkling in ways that make me smile too. “Either that or she’s just a good judge of character. She knows I’m cooler than you.”
India catches a glimpse of my surprised expression and chuckles quietly, rolling her eyes. It occurs to me that I don’t often see her laugh. “Chill out, Mr. Walker. It’s just banter. Don’t take it so seriously.”
I want to argue back and tell her I’m not taking her too seriously, but it would kind of prove her point. I don’t know why I care anyway. India is still just my assistant—and apparently a baby whisperer—but her doing this for me doesn’t make us friends.
As Rosie falls asleep, India stands and gently places her back in the cradle. Then she straightens up, looking pleased with herself.
“Well, that’s all taken care of.” She turns to me, that soft expression still on her face, transfixing me. “You shouldn’t keep your clients waiting.”
I blink. I had forgotten completely about work. “Right. Yes, of course.”
India cocks her head to the side. For once she doesn’t look like she’s about to bombard me with witty comments. She even looks a little concerned. “You don’t look so good, boss. Do you need something? Food? Caffeine?”
I allow my shoulders to droop a little. “Caffeine. More than anything.”
“All right. Let’s get ourselves set up and then I’ll take care of you.”
India sets off down the corridor and I have no choice but to follow her lead. I almost have to jog to match her pace. She says nothing, keeping her gaze focused straight ahead of her.
“Is the office okay for you?” I ask awkwardly.
I don’t like the silence between us. I’m used to having a wall of glass between us, and it always felt safer that way. No awkward small talk required. Now we’re forced together whether we like it or not.
India snorts at my question. “Are you kidding? It’s bigger than my entire apartment. Of course it’s okay.”
I bite back a smile. I can’t believe I thought she was going to make this easier for us. Doesn’t she get that I hate this situation as much as she does? It doesn’t matter how cute she is when she spends her whole time winding me up. “You know it wouldn’t hurt to stop trying so hard to push my buttons.”
India looks at me for several seconds. She seems shocked. “Oh, man, William. You blame me?” She shakes her head at me, all signs of humor vanishing from her face. “You got us caught in this vicious cycle,” she says with a pointed jab of her finger in my direction. “I have a right to have my defenses up. If you want to change my attitude, try changing yours first. For longer than two minutes, that is.”
She flounces off again, heading for the office. Damn, that woman knows how to be sassy. I throw my hands up in exasperation.
“Don’t I deserve a second chance?”
India snorts. “I’m here, aren’t I?” is all she gives me. She definitely sounds irritated that she caved in to my request.
I watch her head into the office, acting like she owns it already. Damn this girl. I try to remain calm. It’s just hard not to react when she’s so good at getting under my skin.
But the next couple of weeks are all about proving what I’m worth. I’m proving I can be a good uncle. I’m proving my dedication to my job. But maybe I have an extra task on my hands—proving I’m not the horrible boss she sees me as.
I follow India inside the room. I find her behind the desk I set up for her. She has her work phone in hand and she’s answering in that monotone she uses on business calls. She smiles at me as I enter, clearly smug that she can get away with murder now that I desperately need her help. But I force myself to smile back. She wants to break all of the rules in order to break me. She wants me to snap. Well, I’m never going to give her that satisfaction. I may have earned myself a reputation, but I can be patient when I need to be. And that is exactly how I’m going to handle this nightmare assistant I’ve let into my home.
“Yes, sir. Let me put you on hold. Mr. Walker’s a little behind schedule today, but I’m sure he’ll be with you...eventually,” India says, casting an evil grin my way. I keep my cool as she presses the hold button. She swivels around on her chair like a child.
“Thanks so much for inviting me back to be your assistant,” she says, her tone telling me how much she’s enjoying this. “I’m having so much fun already.”
I return her smile with one of my own. “I’m sure by the end of this we are going to be best friends,” I say.
She doesn’t need to know I’m lying.
Nine
India
Winding William up all day is actually kind of tiring. It’s approaching midday and so far all I’ve managed to do is make his nostrils flare a bit after a slightly cruel quip at his expense. Otherwise I’ve been bombarded with work, juggling phone calls and managing William’s schedule with my writing tasks for the other job. Now, feeling ready for a break, I glance at the clock and realize it’s my lunch hour. Gleefully, I reach into my briefcase, looking for the leftover pasta that I usually bring to work for lunch.
The briefcase is empty.
I sigh in exasperation. Typical. I forgot to pack lunch. I had one job to do this morning, and I couldn’t even manage that. I was such a mess about coming back to work for William that all of my sense went out the window. I decide that I might as well just continue with work, but my stomach groans in protest, and I can’t concentrate on anything else. Another of my pet peeves—being too hungry to focus.
William stretches and stands up with a groan. He looks tired as he picks up the coffee I made him earlier. It went cold an hour ago.
“I guess I should check on little Rosie,” he says, more to himself than to me. He glances in my direction, almost as though he forgot I was here. “Did you bring any lunch or anything? You can take a break, you know.”
I inhale slowly. I don’t want to rely on him for anything. It’s bad enough that I’ve come crawling back to this job. I don’t want him to do anything else for me. But my stomach growls again and I can’t help what comes out of my mouth next.
“I forgot my lunch.”
I half expect him to point me to a st
ore or to hand me a take-out menu to order from. But he just says, “I’m going to make something. I can whip something up for you too if you’d like?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You mean you’ll cook for me?”
William blushes. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far... I was going to make grilled cheese.”
I almost smile. It doesn’t surprise me that William isn’t much of a cook. Not that I can talk, but I’ve always imagined that William Walker has a chef to prepare his meals. I bet when he’s left to his own devices, he lives off a diet of sandwiches and microwave dinners. But right about now grilled cheese sounds good.
“If it’s not too much trouble...”
William rolls his eyes as he heads for the door. “Trouble? It’s grilled cheese.”
I almost reply with another witty comeback, but I stop myself at the last moment. After all, he’s finally doing a nice thing for me. Perhaps he’ll prove himself to me yet.
I follow him to his bedroom, standing in the doorway while he quietly checks on Rosie, who’s asleep and looks adorable.
He lowers his voice and murmurs to her in dulcet tones. I like the way he is with her. Despite his inability to calm her down earlier, I can tell he’d be a good father. I mean he sucks at all other forms of social interaction, but being a father would definitely suit him.
He seems...human when he’s with her.
More approachable.
It occurs to me suddenly that I’m standing in my boss’s bedroom. It’s a strange sensation. It’s been a while since I was last in any man’s bedroom, let alone William’s. I glance around, looking for any signs of his personality in the decor, but the room is pretty bare. I make a note to check out the rest of the house. I want to find something here that gives me an insight into what William is like outside work. So far I have only a glimpse of the man he could be. I want to see the full picture before I judge how much to let my guard down. Because right now my guard wants to come tumbling down so hard and fast that I’m almost shaken by it.
After planting a tiny kiss on Rosie’s forehead, William straightens up and turns to me. “Right. Operation lunch is a go.”
I can feel the dazed look on my face and quickly plant a smile on my lips, almost laughing at his words. He’s a bit of a nerd. I always knew that about him—he’s too smart not to be.
I follow him downstairs, trying to act casual about being in such an incredible mansion. He leads me to the kitchen, a pristine room that is clearly rarely used. I sit down at the marble breakfast bar while William rummages through the fridge.
“I used to cook a lot,” he says. “I just don’t have the time for it anymore. When I get home from the office, it’s just more work until I’m ready for bed, usually.”
“I guess that makes sense. You get into work pretty early. But it’s a little bit...well, sad. Don’t you ever do anything with your spare time?”
William frowns without looking in my direction as he slices cheese for the sandwiches. “Free time?”
“Come on. Everyone has free time.”
“I usually go to visit my father on Sundays. We talk business, drink a little whiskey, have a meal. But I don’t tend to find that very relaxing.”
“Well, duh. Talking business doesn’t count as downtime. What do you expect?”
William shrugs again. “I don’t expect anything. A lot is expected of me.”
At first I don’t understand what he’s getting at. Then it clicks. He never has any time to himself because he’s too busy living up to other people’s expectations. I study him carefully. He’s the classic workaholic—driven, stressed and committed. He can’t cope with standing still, and he would never pass up an opportunity to get ahead. That I can understand. I’m the same. But there’s more to it. Is he doing it all to make himself feel better or to prove a point to someone? To prove that he can be the best of the best, no matter what life throws at him? I’m not sure.
“Well, from my point of view you’re doing pretty damn well.”
William chuckles quietly. His neck has turned red all of a sudden. “Thanks. Appreciated.” He clears his throat. I can tell he’s struggling for things to say, though I’m currently quite comfortable. It’s nice getting to know him. Again, it occurs to me that there’s a reason why a guy as hot as him can’t keep a girlfriend.
“So, how is the new job going?” he asks. “Better than working for me?”
“Is that a joke? Did William Walker finally crack a joke?”
He glances back at me shyly. I find myself smiling at him before I can stop myself.
“I guess you could say that. But I also want to know the answer.”
I sigh, propping my elbows on the counter so I can rest my chin in my hands. “It’s okay. I guess I’m good at it. But I haven’t gotten used to it yet. It’s weird working alone all day. Kinda makes me crazy.”
I wince to myself. Why am I telling him this? William, of all people? He doesn’t need or want to know how my job is going. He’s just making conversation. I shrug and smile awkwardly. “But it’s fine.”
William frowns. “So, you write blog articles?”
I fold my arms defensively. “I guess you could call it that. Does it matter?”
He shakes his head fiercely. “No, not at all. It’s just...well, I assume you can do better for yourself. With your...skills.”
“What do you mean?”
William throws his hands up in exasperation. “Look, I don’t know. I just think that at some point something better is going to come your way. You’re a smart woman. I know that much.”
There he goes again, complimenting me. Is this him trying to make up for everything he did in the past? Is it just because I had a go at him and made him feel some remorse? As he slides the bread and cheese onto the stove-top grill and looks at me, I stare him down, wondering what his game is. Is he being nice for the right reasons, or is he trying to get something from me like he usually is?
William surprises me by taking a seat next to me at the counter. He chews at his thumb and I notice that the skin around his fingers is in tatters. Nervous tick? Clearly he’s not as grounded as he makes out. Up close I can see how the stress has changed him, made his face crease with worry lines that I previously overlooked. Just by being close to him, watching him more carefully, I can tell there’s more to him beneath the surface that I have yet to discover.
He also smells good. Too good.
“I hope you aren’t offended by what I said,” he continues, avoiding making eye contact with me. “I just wanted you to do the right thing for yourself.”
“Well, everyone has to start somewhere, right? Not everyone has a rich father who can help them build a business.”
William shoots me a playful glare. “Hey. I worked hard to get where I am now. I did it on my own without my father’s money.”
“Yeah, but without your family background, you wouldn’t be where you are now.” I hold my hands up in defense. “I’m not trying to belittle you. I’m just saying that’s the way it is.”
I can tell this conversation is winding William up. For once that’s not the intent of my conversation. I just want him to see this from my perspective. But as his face grows redder, I know I’ve irritated him and that he really wants to argue back. Still, to his credit he remains calm.
I smile to myself. Now I know what his game is. He’s trying to show that he can show self-restraint and be the perfect boss. That he is genuinely capable of being half-decent. Maybe I’ve brought out something in him that the people from the office never get to see. But my cynicism is deep-rooted, and I know that a complete change of character is far too much to ask from him.
William keeps his eyes on the table, but I can tell he wants to say something. I cock my head to the side, inviting him to speak his mind. He swallows, and I can see his Adam’s apple bobbing as he does.
The
next words out of his mouth are a complete shock. “I just want to say... I’m sorry if I ever mistreated you at the office.” He pauses to clear his throat. “I know that I’m a difficult man. I know that you only ever did your best. I just never think before I speak. I speak plainly because my father raised me to always be honest. But often in the stress of the office, I feel myself being consumed by this...horrible anger and weariness, and I let it take over me without thinking about the consequences. I’m sorry that you had to suffer that every day. I’m trying to do better, like you said. But I’m glad that even if your writing work gets lonely, you have a job that fulfills you.”
I don’t think I’ve ever heard William say so much in one go. I’m used to short, staccato sentences from him in which he insults me in one way or another. Now he’s opened himself up like a book and put all of his insecurities on the table, and I don’t know how to respond.
“You were pretty bad,” I whisper before I can stop myself. William’s eyes widen. He’s clearly as shocked as I am. Then all of a sudden his face splits into a huge smile and he starts to laugh.
“At least you’re honest,” he says when he’s stopped laughing. I crack a smile, finally feeling like we might be okay to joke around. I guess there’s nothing to lose anyway. He needs me. Why shouldn’t I speak my mind, mess with him a little, be as honest as I can?
“Damn right I am. I think you needed to hear it.”
William’s smile fades a little. “I think I did too. Thank you.”
We smile awkwardly at each other for a few moments. He stares deeply into my eyes. My heart starts kicking against my ribs when briefly, very briefly, his eyes fall to my lips.
“There’s something else too, India,” he says, pulling his gaze back up to mine, a flush crawling up his thick, masculine neck. “Why I’ve been harder on you than—”
The timer on the stove goes off and we jump to attention. The moment is over. William scrambles from his seat to check on the sandwiches and I take a deep breath.
What was he going to say?
