The reason I liked Aimi was not because she was fucking Mr. Abe every chance she got.
Okay, well, that was part of it.
But Aimi was one of the dumbest people I'd ever met. She didn't care what I did, as long as I gave her and Mr. Abe plenty of alone time.
Which was something I was more than happy to give her.
This lady, however…
I looked over her resume. It wasn't very long, as it appeared she was a recent college graduate.
"Mariko Shibata," I said, turning the paper over. No, just that one page. "Sophia University?"
She smiled. It didn't reach her kohl-rimmed eyes. "Economics."
An economics major from Sophia University applying for a secretarial position? Something didn't seem right. "I would think you'd aspire to something a little higher, Miss Shibata."
The smile remained somewhere under her high, powdered cheekbones. "I've always wanted to be a part of this company. I failed to enter the company when you were recruiting a few months ago."
"Oh?"
"I was in China then."
My heart sank. We had a lot of contacts in China. I couldn't dismiss her straight out of hand just because I didn't like her. My conscience wouldn't let me be so underhanded. "Do you speak Chinese?"
She jerked her head once. "No. I was teaching English."
We had even more English contacts. "I assume your English is fluent?"
"Yes. I was born and raised in London. My parents brought me here when I was fourteen."
She sounded resentful. I didn't blame her. Being a transplant was never easy, especially in Japan. "Well, I'm sure Mr. Miyano would find your English skills useful, as we have many contacts abroad, such as America and England."
"I know," she snapped. "I know everything about this company. I decided if I didn't get into this company through the conventional route, then I'd try this way."
"This way?" I blinked, confused.
She shrugged, re-crossing her legs. "Yeah."
"I'm not quite sure if I…"
She sighed and then leaned forward, showing a very generous amount of cleavage. "Can I be honest with you?"
"Er, I don't—"
"The thing is, I don't really want this job," she said, an almost fanatical gleam in her eyes. "There's no way I would be satisfied with answering some fat guy's phone calls or getting his coffee. I'm not buying his wife's anniversary gift because he's too busy to spend ten minutes to pick out an ugly, stupid silk scarf."
I think my eyes fell out of their sockets. "Um, that's not what—"
She huffed and flicked her hair again, very reminiscent of Haru. In fact, the resemblance was so close, it was frightening. "I want to enter the acquisitions department. I can tell the difference between what's good and what's trash. I've heard it's much easier to advance within the company rather than getting hired into the department you want."
There was a bitterness in my mouth. "Yes, there are people who have started in a different department than they'd hoped and then advanced into their preferred location, but—"
Her laugh was hoarse, like a smoker's laugh, although I didn't smell any tobacco on her clothes. "Come on, do you want to stay in this shitty position until you retire?"
I stiffened. "Sorry you think that. You know, I'm content where I am right now. I do what I want, do what is required of me, and go home with a free conscience."
She snorted. "Yeah, this job would bore me in a week."
I winced. "Um, you are aware this is an interview? Are you sure you want to say that? I might have to relay everything said to Mr. Miyano…"
She laughed again. My throat itched in sympathy. "Oh, come on. I won't be working for you. I'll be working for Mr. Miyano. I know how the workplace and men work. I know the right things to say. He won't believe you."
He won't believe you.
Damn, she was bold. I almost wanted to hire her, just to pit her against Haru. "So you'd lie if he ever referred to this conversation."
She looked at me with so much condescension, I think even Haru would've thought it was a bit much. "Seriously? You seem older than me, but you don't know the way of the world, do you?"
"Er," I said intelligently.
She smirked. "The way of men, I mean. No offense, but look at me and then at you. Who is he going to believe? You or me?"
I sighed. I should've known this wouldn't be so easy.
"I see."
I looked up at Nobuki, who stood by the open door with his arms crossed. "Well, Mr. Miyano?"
The stunned expression on Mariko's face as she spun around in her seat would have been hilarious if I wasn't so tired and discouraged.
"Where do they pick up women like this?" he asked in that cold, snide voice of his, the one he'd used on me when we first met.
Mariko's mouth gaped open. She wasn't so pretty anymore. "You are—?"
"The fat guy who would've been too busy to buy his wife a scarf," he said. "I'm not married, so you wouldn't have had to buy any gifts. I'm capable of doing such a task myself. I'm busy, but I'm not that busy. And even if I were too busy and had a wife, I don't think I'd like your tastes very much."
Her mouth worked silently.
He leaned in close, put his hands on the back of her chair, and gave her the full Nobuki stare that enraged and frightened me the first time I saw it. "I don't give a rat's ass what you look like. If I were not here and Miss Hasegawa relayed your disappointing words, you'd never see the inside of this company ever again."
She swallowed audibly. "I—"
"Get out."
"Please, I—"
"Don't ever come back. If you try to apply here in the future while I'm still employed with this company, I will do everything in my power to block your application, got it?"
Okay, so I didn't like her very much either, but his venom seemed particularly harsh. "Mr. Miyano, perhaps—"
"Miss Hasegawa, please."
That was it.
All he had to say was please and I shut right up.
Why?
I had no bloody clue.
Mariko's lower lip trembled. "I—"
"Get. Out."
She fled, her Coach bag hitting Nobuki in the chest.
The laptop bag was big and heavy, landing with a solid thwack that made me wince.
But there was not a flicker of emotion on his face, and we stared at Mariko Shibata fleeing down the corridor, her heels echoing on the marble floor.
"Well," I began nervously, too aware of how well his pants fit him, how well his shirt clung in all the right places, how good his hair looked. I wondered if he'd ever looked disheveled in his entire life. He probably didn't know the meaning of the word. "That was…interesting, don't you think?"
He was still staring at her, hands on his hips. "I need to talk with the HR department and make sure the next person they send isn't such a moron. How did someone with her personality even make it past the front doors?"
"No," I said, having no wish of unleashing him on Steady Saku. He'd eat her alive in three seconds. "Let me do it. I can handle this."
He looked at me and the muscles in my thighs twitched.
My mouth went dry.
"Ye-yes?" I stammered, wishing to hell I didn't get all hot everywhere.
"Why don't you be my secretary?"
What was I supposed to say?
"I don't—"
His brows went up. "Too hard for you?"
My face flamed. God, why did he have to say that word?
Too hard for you?
"Well, no, but I'm…I'm happy where I am right now."
He sighed and shrugged. "Well, then. Can't force you to do anything you don't want to do."
I stared down at my hands clenched in my lap. "I'm sorry, Mr. Miyano."
He nodded. "Fine. Have the HR department send in the next applicant."
He walked back to his office, leaving behind the scent of his cologne that I found so intoxicating.
Hands shaking, I
called Steady Saku and had her send over the next applicant.
By five o'clock, six more applicants had walked in, all various shapes and sizes, most of them attractive, smart, and articulate.
And every time, Nobuki wished them good luck elsewhere.
I called Steady Saku again. "Tomorrow. We'll have to continue this tomorrow."
She sighed. "He liked none of them? Not even Miss Kougure?"
Miss Kougure was the third applicant. Tall, slim, pretty, with a kind smile, I gawked at her like an uneducated peasant.
And yet, she didn't affect Nobuki one iota.
I skulked at the entrance of his office, under the pretense of going through the several file cabinets by his door, and watched the interview go down in flames.
He didn't even glance at her.
Just looked at her resume with a blank face, turned back to his computer and asked her a few cursory questions about her experience, school, etc.
She had a nice, pleasant voice.
He didn't care.
The interview lasted less than five minutes and, in the end, he gave her resume back and said she was not what he was looking for.
His dismissal alarmed me.
Miss Kougure hadn't expected to be dismissed in such a fashion as well, because she looked as though she was holding back a torrent of tears.
But Nobuki's heart was made of ice and I watched Miss Kougure leave, her shoulders hunched.
I heard her sniffling in the hallway as she waited for the elevator.
"She seemed nice," I said, approaching his office carefully.
He was staring at his computer screen, fingers moving over the ergonomic keyboard. "You'd think so, wouldn't you?"
And that was…that.
It was past five and we still didn't have an executive assistant. There was a definite flaw in my master plan.
I was starting to think Nobuki differed greatly from Mr. Abe.
"Didn't you like any of them?" I asked.
He rifled through a thick stack of papers, engrossed in his task. "If I did, would we be having this conversation?"
I blinked. I was such an idiot around him. Was it me or him? "Right…er, I'll have HR send over a few more applicants tomorrow."
"Why?"
I was caught off-guard. "Why, what?"
"Why are they sending more people?"
"Because you need an assistant."
He turned to his computer screen and typed out a few words. "I'm doing just fine without one, Miss Hasegawa. What does someone do with two secretaries?"
I didn't like the way this conversation was going. "That's the way it's always been!"
He stopped typing and looked at me.
All he had to do was look at me.
I grabbed the door frame as though I meant to stand at casual attention. But it was because I thought I'd lose the strength in my knees.
I had remembered that damn dream again. Sweat popped up on my brow. "Yes?"
He leaned his chin on one hand and watched me with those fathomless eyes. "To be honest, I'm not even sure I need one secretary."
Oh. Crap.
I felt like a mouse trapped in a very tiny shoe box. "Well, there's a lot I did to help Mr. Abe, and I believe that—"
He coughed. "I am not Mr. Abe."
"Yes, I can see that," I said sharply, without thinking. "Mr. Abe was a fat, perverted old man and you're a miserable workaholic. What's your point?"
The moment the words left my lips, I wanted to bash my forehead against the wall so I'd be knocked unconscious and not have to see the wrath headed in my direction.
His eyes widened.
"Ah," I murmured. "I didn't mean…"
"A miserable workaholic?"
He pushed his chair back and stood up.
Oh, no.
"Please, I didn't mean it that way."
"No?" His lips twisted up. It wasn't a smile. "How many meanings are there for 'miserable workaholic'?"
I crossed my arms.
"Please, I don't…I don't want what happened between us to come between us at work."
"What happened between us?"
I coughed. "You know. When I almost called security on you."
He threw his head back and laughed.
I didn't like it. He made me feel foolish.
He stood there, one hand over his face, laughing at me.
Like I was nothing compared to him.
"Stop laughing," I muttered, fingers digging into my arms.
He didn't stop. If anything, it seemed to get louder.
My fingers clenched tighter.
"Please," I said. "Please stop. Don't laugh at me."
I waited a few seconds.
That was as much as my thin patience allowed me.
He didn't stop.
Wouldn't stop.
He was egging me on.
I should've just waited for him to stop, like the adult I was.
I should've just walked away.
I could have been mature. I could have waited him out.
No.
I couldn't.
In a few short strides, I crossed the room and grabbed the cup of water sitting next to his keyboard.
And I flung the contents at his handsome, laughing face.
On one hand, the laughing stopped instantly.
So that was a victory of a sorts.
But now, he was wet.
He blinked as I dropped the paper cup into the wastebasket by his desk.
I didn't feel any better throwing water in his face.
I felt awful.
My stomach felt pinched and nervous, and my pulse sped until I thought I was going to have a heart attack right in front of him.
He swiped the water from his face, eyes narrowed.
I waited for his anger to consume me. God knew, I deserved it.
"I shouldn't have done that," I said numbly.
He flicked his hand, spraying droplets of water all over his desk, still saying nothing.
My stomach curdled.
I pulled out a packet of tissues from my cardigan pocket. "I'll pack my things right away."
Water beaded on his long eyelashes as he took the tissues.
"Why?"
Okay…he wasn't going to throw me out of the building, at least not just yet.
"I lost my temper. I shouldn't have thrown the water at you." I looked away, too ashamed to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry, Mr. Miyano."
The tissue packet rustled as he pulled out a handful of tissues. "No, this is my fault, Miss Hasegawa."
"No, no, please," I stammered, words tumbling with my relief. I wasn't getting fired! "I shouldn't have lost my temper. Trust me, I've learned my lesson."
He looked at me for one long moment and then sighed.
"I'm not a cruel man."
A snort escaped me before I could stop myself and I guiltily met his stony countenance. "I'm sorry."
His lips didn't move, didn't so much as twitch, but I thought his eyes seemed less…wintry. "Do you think I'm cruel?"
I bit my lip. "I'm not…"
He unbuttoned the top button of his pale blue shirt to dab at the water rolling down his neck.
I tried not to gawk.
Failure was imminent.
"Miss Hasegawa, please," he said. "We're working together now. More than being your boss, I want to think of us as partners. If we want to succeed in this business, I believe honesty is important. Very important. Don't you agree?"
I nodded.
"Then?" he prompted, running a hand through the damp strands of his hair, pushing it back over his ears and exposing that barely visible stud earring. "Am I cruel?"
I took a deep breath, praying I wasn't about to shoot myself in the foot. "You…you come off as cold, Mr. Miyano. Very cold. People react differently to that. When we first met, you said you enjoyed watching me—"
"Squirm," he said.
I nodded. "Yes."
He seemed thoughtful as he dumped the damp mound of tiss
ues into the wastebasket. "My apologies. I didn't think you'd take me seriously."
"I did. I took your words very seriously. I mean, you're my boss."
"Hm. I am that." He nodded. "Very well."
His phone rang and I took a step back.
I knew my place.
I was the secretary.
He was the boss.
"I should…I should let you get back to work."
He smiled.
A real smile.
It was the most emotion he had ever given me.
I couldn't help but respond.
"We are partners, Miss Hasegawa," he said again. "Do you agree?"
"Does this mean you don't need an executive assistant?"
He checked his phone, already too busy to deal with me. "I believe you are it."
I swallowed the lump of dread in my throat. "Your secretary, then?"
He held up his keyboard and let water drain from the keys. "Is there a problem, Miss Hasegawa? I told you I don't need two assistants."
It was clear.
He didn't need an executive assistant and a junior secretary.
Either I could do it all, or he'd hire someone else.
I couldn't let that happen.
Paying for books again was unacceptable.
"Very well. I'll tell HR," I said, repressing a sigh.
"Very good, Miss Hasegawa," he said and then clicked the Bluetooth receiver in his left ear. "Yes, President Hamazaki."
I nodded and took one step back.
"One moment, please," he said, pulling the receiver out. "Oh, and Miss Hasegawa?"
I jumped. "Yes?"
"Book a flight to Los Angeles, leaving on Monday, as early as you can make it, and coming back either Saturday or Sunday. And a hotel near the Anaheim Convention Center. No car. Someone will be at the airport with transportation."
I nodded, working to keep my face as expressionless as possible.
One whole week with no one to watch me. Heaven! "Right away, Mr. Miyano."
"What do you know about Los Angeles, Miss Hasegawa?"
I shook my head, wondering where he was going with this line of conversation. "Not much. I've never been."
"Well, aren't you lucky?"
I blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"You're coming with me," he said, plugging the receiver back in his ear. "Two round-trip tickets and the hotel stay. I'm sure you can arrange that?"
My heart leapt to my throat.
"Um. Yes, sir."
He smiled. "Good. I'm very sorry about that, President Hamazaki. You were saying?"
The Handsome Devil (Kissing the Boss Book 1) Page 6
