I glance at her brown turtle-neck top. “We’re in Bangkok. Why are you dressed as if we are on a trip to Alaska?”
“Uh…huh, I thought it might be cold in the hotel,” she mutters, her eyes sliding away.
I shake my head and carry on walking towards baggage claim. Just forget it, Luke. She is some other man’s problem.
The airport is ultra-modern and clean, but it’s packed with travelers, clogging up the walkways in the terminal. Although, the crowd parts easily in front of me. I tower over most of the people here. They move out of my way like I’m going to knock them over if they don’t. It’s not far from the truth. I feel impatient and restless. I put it down to the fact that I’ve got a lot riding on this trip.
“Did you confirm our reservations for this evening?”
“Yes. Table for six. Nami. 8.00 p.m.”
I nod with satisfaction. “Good. If we land these Japanese clients, it’ll be our first step toward breaking into the Asian markets. An entire hemisphere of untapped potential, ripe for the taking will open up.”
“Yes, Mr. Remington.”
“What’s on tomorrow?”
She checks her phone. “You’re scheduled to be at the economic conference for the seminar on Developing New Business Markets in the morning at Conference Room Chakrii. It starts at eight, but the two speakers you were interested in listening to, start at nine and eleven respectively. You have an hour to kill in between, so I’ve scheduled for you to meet with Mr. Dimitriou who has flown in specially from Singapore for that meeting.”
“Great. Is lunch with Carl still on?”
“Yes, at one. I’ve booked a table at the Golden Orchid restaurant.”
I nod. “You will be joining us, right?”
“If you need me?”
“Yes, I do. You’ll have to take some notes.”
“I’ll change the reservation.”
“My session is after lunch?”
“That’s right. Your presentation is at 2.30 p.m.”
“You brought the slides for it?”
“They’re in my suitcase.”
“Good.” I run my hand along the back of my neck. The airport is fully conditioned and I am already sweating. “What am I doing after that?”
“It’ll be 4.00 p.m. by then. I thought you might want some free time to rest, or do some sightseeing.”
I spear her with a disapproving look. “Mrs. Emerson, this isn’t a vacation. I didn’t get where I am in the world by taking it easy and walking around like a goddamn tourist. We’re here to work. See about scheduling something for tomorrow evening with the Norwegian delegation. I don’t want any down time while I’m out here. Might as well seize every opportunity we can.”
“I just thought—”
“Well, stop thinking. Let me do that. Your job is to keep my life running smoothly, so I can think. Speaking of which, go grab our bags. I need to make a call.”
She scampers off obediently, and for a second I stare at her ass, even though it is impossible to tell what it actually looks like under all the layers of clothes she wears. Today, she is wearing a pant suit. It’s a nice suit. Very professional. The problem is it’s at least two sizes too big for her. She practically swims inside the fabric. Like a kid wearing her mother’s clothes.
Her choice of clothing is quite incredible. Once she came to work in a grey suit that was so meritless and ugly I nearly said something, but I managed to hold back. Her fashion choices are none my business.
I chuck her out of my head and call head office in New York. There are a couple of deals being negotiated that need my input. I give the senior vice president his instructions, and hang up just as my PA rushes back, rolling both our bags on either side of her.
Her face is flushed with exertion and despite the thick lenses of her glasses, I see dark circles under her eyes. I guess it can’t have been much fun for her travelling in coach with screaming babies all around her and the air stewardess spilling fish sauce on her. I consider saying something nice, but I bite the comment back. Our relationship is perfect at the moment. Jade Emerson is without doubt one of the best PA’s I’ve ever had, and I’m damned if I’m going to ruin it.
We get out of the airport and the heat slams into me. It’s like being in a sauna. “Where’s the driver?” I ask her impatiently.
She looks around, concerned. “He should be here.”
“Well, I don’t see anyone with a placard with my name on it.”
“They use iPads for that now,” she murmurs.
“Whatever they use,” I say irritably.
She pulls her phone from her pocket. “Let me call and find out what’s going on.”
I cross my arms impatiently, as she begins speaking to someone on the other end of the line. “No, that’s not what I emailed,” she says calmly. “I’m sorry your driver wasted his time by coming here an hour ago, but if you take the time to check my email, you’ll see that I sent the correct instructions and the flight was neither delayed nor early.” She pauses. “How long will it take you to organize another car?” She listens then frowns. “No, we can’t wait here for an hour. I’ll find alternative arrangements. For the record, I’ll be expecting a refund of the payment I have already made.” The other person raises his voice and she listens to him ranting with pursed lips. Two months with her is enough to know that means she’s dealing with an asshole, but she’s just too professional to stoop to his level.
Anger rises up in me. I can be hard on her, but I won’t stand by and let someone treat her like shit. She doesn’t deserve that. “Is everything, alright?” I ask her.
“No, but I can handle it,” she says, holding the phone slightly away from her ear.
“I know you can handle it,” I say, meaning it. “It’s not you I’m referring to. It’s the asshole on the other end.” I extend my hand to her. “Give me the phone.”
I can tell from her slight hesitation that she doesn’t want to, but she knows better than to disobey a direct order from me. She passes the phone to me.
I put it to my ear.
By now, the man on the phone is not just yelling, he’s going ape-shit. His accent is thick, but I make out ‘stupid fucking bitch’ just fine.
This is the point where I cut him off. “Stop speaking. Now.”
He is so shocked he stops mid-sentence.
“Now, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, speaking to my assistant that way, but you’ve gone way over the line. If you were here in person, I would teach you a lesson in manners. And if I didn’t have better things to do with my time, I’d go down there personally to see that you never speak to a woman that way again.”
“Sir, I apologize for—”
“Did I say you could fucking talk?”
The man goes completely silent for a moment, before making the mistake of opening his trap again. “No, sir, but—”
“Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to hang up this phone. Then I’m going to spread the word to all my associates that your car service is blacklisted. If I were a betting man, I’d say the majority of your clients are businessmen. Well, not anymore. You might want to start looking for a new job now.” I hang up before he can say anything else.
She is staring at me wide-eyed.
I hand her phone back to her. “Too much?” I ask.
A slow smile spreads across her face. “Could be, but he was an asshole.”
“Send an email to all your friends about these guys.”
She cocks her head in confusion. “My friends?”
“Well, not your friends, exactly. But all the other assistants to my friends. The ones you deal with on a daily basis. Tell them never to use this car service again. Whatever the hell it’s called. Maybe then our friend will learn a bit of humility.”
She nods. “I will. And, Mr. Remington?”
“What is it, Mrs. Emerson?”
“Thank you,” she says.
I shoot her a tight smile. “No one treats you that way
. Not while I’m around. Now go find us an ordinary cab, but make sure it’s air-conditioned.”
Chapter 2
Luke
The gap-toothed cab driver sings softly to himself as he navigates through the hellish traffic of downtown Bangkok. He has a lousy voice, but I vastly prefer it to any forced attempt at small talk. I know they’re just angling for a better tip. The joke’s on them. I tip so much better when they say nothing at all.
I look out of my window. Bangkok never changes. Tall buildings, temples, golden Buddha statues everywhere, busy sidewalks, men and women in colorful clothes. Even where we are now, stuck in traffic, there are enough glimpses into Bangkok’s Asian culture to make the place feel exotic and mysterious. At least, that’s how it felt the first time I came here.
But travel the world enough and nothing really surprises you anymore. I’ve traveled a lot, seen a lot, and done a lot. This is the first trip I am taking with my PA. I think I heard one of the managers mention that this might even been her first trip abroad. All of this must be so new to her.
I turn to look at her.
She is leaning forward and gazing out the windows, her eyes wide and shining. I follow her gaze and look at the shops passing by. For a moment, it’s like I’m seeing the world through her eyes. The city is vibrant and alive. The way it had been when I first came here. Young and starry-eyed. Yes, Bangkok has a way of making the rest of the world seem dull and gray.
My eyes stray back to her face.
She looks almost beautiful in her excitement. I find myself staring. Seeing her from the side, without her glasses in the way, is a revelation—her eyes are quite stunning. I thought they were brown, probably because I’ve never paid much attention. Now I see they’re an extraordinary hazel. The mixture of green, brown and gold glow in the sunlight, and for a timeless second, I’m captivated.
Then I disgustedly shake myself from my thoughts and remind myself this is Mrs. Emerson. My married PA. Yes, I care about her, but not like that. Never like that.
Suddenly, the silence becomes awkward for me, and I need to say something. Anything. “So I take it this is your first time in Thailand?”
She turns to look at me, a warm, open smile on her face. It transforms her. “It is,” she admits. “I never knew how beautiful it is.”
“If you think this is beautiful, you should see outside the city. It’s unlike anywhere else.”
She sighs. “I’d love to, but this isn’t a vacation, remember?”
I smile at the way she throws my words from earlier back in my face. I wouldn’t let most people get away with that, but for some weird reason I let her. “No, it’s not. But maybe you can find some time in the schedule tomorrow and the day after to look around.”
“Will you join me?” Then adds quickly, “I’d be nervous to wander around alone.”
I shake my head. “I’ll be far too busy, but you arrange for a tour guide to show you around. I’ll pick up the cost”
Her look of excitement deflates. “If you’re working, I’m working.”
I can’t argue with that. She is my right hand. I need her at my side. I can’t do the things I want to do if she’s not around. Still, she deserves to enjoy herself too. She works hard for me without complaint. I could give a little back. I make a mental note to figure out one fun thing for her on this trip. If I have time.
We get to the hotel. It is five-star accommodation from top to bottom. We’re given the VIP treatment and very quickly booked in by smiling super-efficient staff and taken up to the Tower Club suite on the fifty-sixth floor. Technically, my PA and I will be sharing the space, but the suite is big enough for her to have her own bedroom and bathroom. I want her close, not on top of me.
The lounge is a picture of luxury. A bottle of champagne and a platter of fruit and cheese is waiting on a glass table. The bellhop carries our luggage into our respective rooms. Mine has a king-size bed and hers is a single. I walk to the wall to ceiling window and look down at the view of the entire city with the river running through it like a snake. In the late afternoon sun it is quite something, but Asia also look its best at night, when you can’t see the dust and the grime. Then it will be breathtaking. The windows are triple glazed, so no sounds permeate it and it is almost hypnotic to watch the hectic world so far below in complete silence.
“Excellent choice on the hotel,” I say.
“Thank you, Mr. Remington.”
I turn away from the window and clap my hands together. “Right. Dinner is in three hours. Just enough time to clean up, do some work, and get ready. I’ll grab you at quarter to eight?”
She nods. “I’ll be ready. Let me know if you need anything else in the meantime.”
I go into my room and close the door on her.
The first thing I do is call down to housekeeping to pick up my suit and shirt to make sure they are pressed and presentable for tonight. It’s not that I’m worried about my appearance. Of course, I take care of myself, but I’m far from vain. Tonight though, I need to show our potential Japanese clients my best side.
Business culture in Japan is a complicated affair, but one thing I know for sure…they are an incredibly thin-skinned lot. Little things matter to them. Even something like cursorily glancing at someone’s business before putting it away into your pocket will be taken as a lack of respect for that person’s title and rank. No, you’ve got to carefully study it and nod approvingly before putting it away. Showing up in a rumpled suit would be considered offensive.
I peel my shirt away from my sticky skin and wash away the sticky heat of Bangkok in the shower. Feeling refreshed and blissfully cool after a shave, I come back to my bedroom. I have two hours to kill so I lounge on the bed in my boxer briefs, and start going through my pitch to my Japanese clients.
It is then I hear the scream.
In the blissful silence of triple glazed windows, the sound is piercingly loud. My papers slide off my lap as I leap off the bed. Sprinting across the lounge, I throw open my secretary’s bedroom door, and skid to a stop. She’s standing in the middle of the room clutching a small towel to her. She spins around and stutters, “Luke…I mean, Mr. Remington.”
“What is it?” I ask, staring at her in disbelief. She is not wearing her glasses, her hair is cascading down her back, and her legs are long and deliciously smooth. I don’t know why, but I thought she’d have hairy legs. I blink. Damn it.
She points a shaking finger towards the bathroom.
Tearing my eyes away from her dripping body, I stride over to the bathroom and look inside. “What? I don’t see anything,” I say, looking around the empty bathroom.
“Look in the tub. There’s a huge freaking spider in it.”
“Is that all?” I ask, relieved. Hell, the way she screamed, I thought someone was stabbing her to death with a rusty knife.
“Is that all?” she counters, her voice rising hysterically. “Go and see it. That—thing is a monster.”
“Don’t be such a baby,” I reply as I move to the tub and look inside. It’s bright blue, furry, the size of a goddamn softball. “Shit. That is big.”
“I told you,” she cries fearfully. “I can’t believe I was in there with that—thing. It looks like a tarantula had sex with a smurf.”
My back is to her, so I didn’t have to hide my smile, but seriously, the spiders in the tropics are something else. “I’m sure he was just trying to get a peek at you,” I tease. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of this little peeping Tom.” I go back out to my room and grab one of my shoes. I return and it is still trying to climb the slippery sides of the bath. Alright, you little pervert. No more ogling my sexy assistant. The arthropod makes a squashing sound. Wadding up some toilet paper in my hand I scoop up the blob that looks like crushed blueberries. I flush its remains down the toilet, chuck my splattered shoe in the trashcan, and turn around.
“Problem solved.”
She is watching me from the door with just her head poking around the door fr
ame. Her hair is hanging in wet waves around her face. “Are you sure?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. It’s all safe now.”
She takes a step into the bathroom and time freezes.
She still has a towel wrapped around her, but just barely. It’s too small. In her haste to escape the shower, she must have grabbed the wrong towel. The fabric clings to her wet skin, leaving very little to the imagination.
The swell of her breasts under the towel is shocking. They look ripe and full, and I fight a wild urge to reach out and touch them. A bead of water drips down her neck between her breasts. My eyes follow it. Fuck, there’s a lot of cleavage there. If the towel were an inch lower, I’d see everything.
I had no idea she hid such amazing tits beneath her baggy outfits.
I follow the curve of her body down from her breasts to her hips, then down to her exposed thighs. Her skin is creamy and flawless. I want to taste every inch of it.
The edge of the towel comes down to the top of her legs, barely hiding her pussy from my hungry gaze. Somehow, I feel like this is more seductive than if she’d been completely naked. She’s revealing so much but not really showing anything at all. It was a tease. A turn on. My insides clench with desire, and I feel my cock stir in my boxers.
I look up at her face quickly, not wanting her to see me eye-fucking her. Again, I’m taken by surprise at how gorgeous she looks. Her long dark hair is no longer in the too-tight bun she always wears. It falls to her shoulders in waves.
And without her glasses, her eyes enchant me. I caught a hint of it in the cab ride over, but seeing her up close like this is like getting hit by lightning.
It was the first time I’ve ever seen her. Really seen her. She’s been hiding her sexy body from the world under those terrible outfits. Or maybe she’s been hiding it from me. Either way, it’s a shame. A woman this fine needs to show it all off. To hide it is a crime. It’s like keeping the Mona Lisa covered up under sackcloth. The world deserves to see it.
Too hot to handle: A curvy girl romance Page 30
