by Lily White
With disheveled brown hair that hung low to frame his face and amber colored eyes that were a shade I’d never seen in another person, Jackson flicked a glance between Trevor and me, his lips pulling into a practiced smile that felt more cold than warm. I watched the two men shake hands, noticing that Jackson kept his eyes on me the entire time. Ignoring Trevor’s statement, Jackson inclined his head in my direction, and with a voice that was so deep it was gritty, he said, “You must be Donovan’s new assistant.”
It wasn’t exactly a question, more a statement, but I smiled regardless and nodded my head. “I’m Mia, it’s –“
“I know who you are,” he interrupted. His chilling gaze traced back to Trevor. “We can talk as I walk you out.”
Trevor flinched at the rancor in Jackson’s tone, but managed to hold his shaky smile in place. “Sounds good.” Turning to me, he waved. “It was nice meeting you, Mia. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”
Waving back, I wasn’t so sure I’d see him again. After meeting both Donovan and Jackson, and discovering they both were sharp around the edges, I inwardly wondered how much time I would last at Stone Industries. Without voicing that concern, I watched as the two men stepped out of the lobby, the door shutting behind them as the tablet on the desk beeped again.
Glancing down, I winced in response to the messages.
My office.
NOW.
Rushing from the reception desk, I didn’t bother knocking before entering Donovan’s office. Still a mess, the space wasn’t dominated by the piles of paperwork, the spare computer parts, or the other odds and ends that made it feel cramped. It was dominated by the man sitting behind the desk, the same man who was now staring at me with bright blue eyes that held no warmth or affinity for me in the slightest.
His jaw ticked in beat with my steps, the dissatisfaction etched across his face plain to the eye of any half-intelligent observer. Donovan not only looked like he wanted to tear into me for whatever perceivable slight he’d concocted, but held his body in such a way that I didn’t dare step closer to his desk. The large, heavy piece of furniture between us made me feel better about whether he would lunge in my direction. The several feet of space between the desk and me made me believe I could escape.
I hated how just by looking at me, Donovan invoked a sense of unease that left me fidgeting in place, wondering what horrible remark he would make.
Nervousness beaded at my temples in the form of warm perspiration, and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. I’d done nothing wrong, but by the look on Donovan’s face, you would think I’d just sold his biggest competitor all the secrets that could be used to bring Stone Industries to the ground.
Except, I hadn’t.
“You wanted to see me?” The words shook as they whispered over my lips, the strength in my voice completely absent while his hard gaze held mine. Several seconds passed before he flicked his eyes down to my hands and back up again, his eyebrow lifting in question.
Waiting for him to respond, I swallowed hard and realized what mistake I’d made. My eyes widened as I remembered that he couldn’t communicate with me without the tablet I’d left on the reception desk.
Muttering under my breath, I ran to correct the error, returning to stand in his office as quickly as possible. His expression hadn’t warmed up by the time I was back in place with tablet in hand. If anything, it was colder, rougher, a razored edge added to the sharp censure behind his eyes.
Donovan’s gaze remained trained on my face as he reached to slip his tablet from the surface of his desk. He didn’t bother looking down as he typed out whatever nasty missive he had planned for me.
I don’t pay employees to sit around chatting with delivery men. I also don’t pay them to flirt. Do you enjoy having a job, Ms. Jennings?
This job? Not particularly, but damned if desperation wasn’t also responsible for this horrible decision. Promising myself I would continue applying for other positions in companies as far away from this one as possible, I swallowed down the lump of festering fear that clogged my throat.
“Yes, sir,” I finally answered, choking on the respectful title. Donovan deserved to be called many things, but Sir wasn’t one of them. It was difficult standing in the same room as him just because he was too beautiful for words. But just like every monster women were warned about, his looks weren’t a true reflection of who he was inside. The glimmering eyes and strong jaw spoke nothing of the jagged edges inside him. The styled hair and pristine suit only distracted from the cold vacancy in his glare. His looks were a means to lure a woman in, while his mind conjured every imaginable thought that could be spoken to take a woman to her knees.
Donovan reminded me of a man I hated. A stern disciplinarian, my father, Scott Jennings, didn’t have a warm bone in his body. How my mother fell in love with him was beyond me, but I suspect whatever promises he made to her prior to slipping a wedding ring on her finger were quickly broken once he had her securely in his grasp. I didn’t know what their life had been like before I came into the world, but I can tell you that while I was alive, my father never so much as uttered the words I love you, nor gave us kisses and hugs. He was a shadow over my existence, always scouring my life for some mistake he could hold over my head as he punished me in new and inventive ways.
Looking at Donovan Stone, I saw the same observant gaze, the same disapproving sneer, the same tense set of his broad shoulders that my father always had every time he was about to tell me how he planned to make my life a living hell. Standing here, I felt like I was a teenager all over again, dreading the next words that would be spoken.
Except, they wouldn’t be spoken. They would be typed by furious fingers over the surface of a tablet.
I jumped in place as soon as my tablet beeped in my hands.
Then if you’d like to remain employed, I suggest you get back to filing.
Happy to obey him, I nodded my head and slipped out of his office, my breath pouring over my lips as I dropped the tablet on my desk and dug into the piles of paperwork that would hopefully fill the rest of my day.
Although, I’d found Trevor attractive, I wasn’t exactly flirting with him, but for whatever reason, Donovan didn’t see it that way. Without an employee manual that detailed what the rules were in this place, I was on my own to figure them out as I went along. The only problem being that I was discovering them while breaking them, rule by rule, and incurring the anger of a man I wished I never met.
Silence hung over the small space where I worked, only broken by the shuffling of papers as I grouped them into new piles according to the client they involved, and once my muscles had relaxed again and I could breathe easier knowing I didn’t have to face a pissed off Donovan, I made the mistake of believing the worst was over. The silence was broken when the door to the lobby opened and Jackson Pruitt stepped past the half wall to stare in my direction.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Rule No. 8: Once the game has begun, don’t try to find us. We’ll be sure to find you.
“It’s lunchtime,” Jackson said, his voice low and matter of fact. “You should take a break from the work Donovan has you doing today.” Flicking his eyes to the multiple piles of disorganized record keeping, he didn’t smile or even smirk. His face was a blank mask, a professional facade that gave away nothing of what he was thinking. Eyes meeting mine again he offered, “I could take you to a small cafe around the corner. The sandwiches aren’t half bad.”
Stuck in place, Donovan’s threat to fire me was still fresh on my mind as I stared back at a man who’d been rude and cold just a few minutes ago when I’d tried to introduce myself. To say it was difficult to understand why he was now inviting me to lunch was an understatement. “I’m not sure how long I have for lunch,” I admitted on a rush of breath. “Dono-” Stopping midword, I remembered that the man who held my purse strings had demanded I refer to him as Mr. Stone, and I highly suspected he was listening in on this conversation. “Mr. Stone did
n’t tell me more than what I’m expected to do with these papers and that I’m to sign for deliveries.”
Jackson lifted a brow, not quite amused, not quite questioning. “I’m sure he knows you’ll take lunch. It’s expected of all the employees.”
Since he’d already brought up the expectations of the employees, I thought it was a good opening to find out more about this horrible job I had no option to turn down. “Is there an employee manual? One that gives me a few details about those expectations.”
His blank mask was cut through with a hesitant smile, his amber eyes darting between Donovan’s door and me. Turning he had his hand on the knob as if to open that door when he answered over his shoulder. “I am the employee manual. We’ll talk about the rules over lunch.”
The door popped open and Jackson leaned in to look at Donovan. “I’m taking Mia to lunch. We’ll be back in an hour.”
Donovan didn’t respond, at least not out loud. I shook my head. Of course, it wasn’t out loud. The man didn’t talk. His constant silence was going to take some getting used to, but I assumed he must have nodded or made some other indication that Jackson could proceed. Within seconds, Jackson closed the door again and motioned for me to walk ahead of him into the lobby.
I walked ahead of him as he’d indicated for me to do, but I’d be a liar to say it didn’t feel like danger was standing at my back. Hating how close he was, I reached for the handle of the door leading into the front room, but felt his body heat against mine when he reached faster. Opening the door for me, he held it until I’d passed, closing it again once we were both standing on the other side. That was one point in his favor over Donovan. Although it was painfully obvious that Jackson had about as much warmth as an iceberg, he at least had manners.
His manners remained intact as we exited the office and left the building. Walking down the sidewalk, a noticeable tension left his shoulders once we had rounded a corner and were outside of view from Donovan’s window. If I hadn’t been just as tense, I wouldn’t have noticed the sudden relaxation in the set of his shoulders, wouldn’t have realized that while a certain someone could still see us, Jackson hadn’t spoken another word.
“So, I hope I don’t get in trouble for saying this, but what is up with Stone Industries?” Flicking a glance at Jackson where he walked beside me, I caught the barest hint of a grin on his lips. It didn’t help to soften the hard set of his eyes, or the chiseled strength of his square jaw, but it was still better than the bone chilling cold that had wafted off him earlier. Perhaps Jackson and Donovan worked well together because they both existed within blocks of emotional ice. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the type who could handle the cold. It reminded me too much of my father.
Speaking slowly, he kept his gaze trained on the sidewalk ahead of us. On the people who were pouring out of their buildings in route to their own lunchtime destinations. “I’m not sure how that question could get you in trouble. It’s a reasonable request for information. I’d ask the same on my first day of a new job.”
Soft laughter shook my shoulders. “Per Mr. Stone’s obvious dislike of me, I’m afraid to ask anything.”
Jackson stopped in place, his hand reaching out to grab my wrist. Out of instinct, I pulled away at the unexpected touch. I could handle the contact when I was prepared for it, but never when feeling another person’s skin against mine was sudden. Jackson stared intently at me after I’d jerked away, his gaze sliding down my body and back up again. “Sorry,” he apologized, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Flustered by everything that had occurred in my life in the past few days - the fear of being homeless, the stupid decision to sign up for a game I was still trying to avoid thinking about, the acceptance of a job I knew nothing about - I had to force my lungs to draw in a deep breath before I could offer him a practiced smile. “It’s okay. I just don’t like being touched without some kind of warning.”
“That’s interesting,” he murmured, more to himself than to me. His voice was stronger when he answered, “I was just stopping you because of what you said. I don’t think Donovan dislikes you. He takes some getting used to, but he wouldn’t have hired you if he didn’t like you.”
“He has a funny way of showing it,” I said, disbelief and soft laughter obvious in my words. “He’s already threatened my job today and only because I’d spoken to Trevor while he was making his deliveries.”
We started walking again, although we weren’t in as much of a rush as the crowd around us. I worried if we didn’t pick up our pace, we’d get lost in the shuffle and I’d be late returning to work. I said as much, but Jackson shrugged it off. “I have as much say in the satellite office as Donovan. He won’t hold it against you for being a few minutes late getting back. Especially since you’re with me.”
His words didn’t make me feel better, but I did pick up on one new bit of information that I hadn’t known before. “Satellite office?”
We rounded another corner and Jackson turned to step toward a glass door leading into a cafe hidden within a strip of other small stores. With his other hand, he reached as if to touch my shoulder and guide me inside, but he hesitated, most likely remembering my dislike of being touched. I’d stepped inside by the time he responded.
“Yes, the Ninth Street building is only one of many satellite offices. Our main North American hub is located on the other side of town. Donovan hates the constant activity, so he chooses to work here where it’s the two of us…well, three of us now that you’re here.”
The admission surprised me. Taking a seat in a corner booth where the waitress/cashier/cook motioned for us to sit, I waited until Jackson was settled before asking another question. The cafe was so tiny, it felt like the three of us were practically on top of one another even when the sole employee was on the other side of the room.
“How big is Stone Industries?”
Now that Jackson had lightened up from when we first met, he didn’t seem as aloof, cold and distant as before. My body relaxed along with his, my mind hesitant to be thankful that the other member of my satellite office wasn’t as quick to judge as Donovan Stone.
Sunlight poured in from the window next to us, the warm light meeting his eyes to reveal streaks of brown within the amber color. With broad shoulders that practically filled his side of the booth, he relaxed against his seat and slung an arm over the top of the cheap pleather seat. Wearing a blue button up shirt, he’d skipped wearing a tie or a jacket to match his black slacks. His eyes were trained on the sidewalk traffic outside when he asked, “You didn’t research the company before accepting the job?”
“I didn’t have much of a choice. It was that or learn how to survive without eating.”
His gaze shot to mine, the sharp look startling me into silence. “So that’s why you took the job? I was wondering.”
Opening my mouth to ask what he meant, I was interrupted by the waitress approaching our table. Quickly scanning the menu, I settled on a salad while Jackson ordered a sandwich. She ran off to throw together our orders as my gaze slid back to Jackson. “What do you mean you were wondering?”
He shrugged, the movement drawing my attention to the perfect tailoring of his shirt that accented every strong, sleek line of his physique. If anything, the eye candy in our little satellite office was enough to keep me occupied. Between Jackson and Donovan, any woman would be lost to the cold, masculine perfection that dominated the small office. “Donovan has been running ads for the admin position for close to six months. At first, hundreds of resumes poured in, and he must have spent weeks conducting interviews. Every offer he made was turned down.”
My eyes rounded, the moment of shock dissipating just as quickly. It wasn’t surprising that the job offers were being turned down. I would have done the same if I weren’t so desperate. It just made me feel worse about myself to learn that so many other people had better offers so that they were in a position to decline Donovan’s offer. What was wrong with me?
Taking adv
antage of my silence, Jackson answered another question of mine. “Stone Industries is a multinational corporation. We have one main hub in North America, along with sixty satellite offices. We have another hub in practically every country spanning the globe. The company was started by Donovan’s father. Donovan only took over when his dad passed four years ago. He never wanted to run the business, but has done so because his father made him promise while he was on his death bed.”
Fiddling with my napkin just to work out the pent up energy inside me, I commented, “It sounds like you know Donovan well.”
Jackson grinned. “We grew up together. Played video games most of our lives and dreamed of developing games ourselves. Donovan’s dad was always the workhorse, but he took the time to teach us coding and about software development. By the time we were ten, we could both build a computer from the ground up, but neither of us wanted the corporate life. It’s why Donovan started the small office away from the main hub. He hates the constant noise. As I’m sure you’re aware, his communication skills are limited.”
Proving himself to be a wealth of information, I was happy for the better understanding of my new job. Still, I couldn’t resist discovering more about my enigmatic new boss, a man who hadn’t spoken one word to me, but still managed to frustrate my life since the moment I met him. “Was he born unable to speak?”
Jackson’s lips twitched, but he didn’t give any other outward indication of what he was thinking or feeling. “I wouldn’t say he’s unable to speak, but that’s his story to tell. No. He wasn’t born that way. But nobody, besides me, has heard his voice in three years.”
Brows pulling together, I mulled over that strange tidbit. He could talk, but refused to? What could ever possess a person to make their lives more difficult by refusing to communicate when they had the ability? Especially when he was the CEO of a high-power company.
Every person has their quirks. I don’t like being touched, and I also don’t like looking in mirrors in the dark. It’s weird and stupid, I know. But I have my reasons. My father was the reason I hated touch. And the mirrors? That was a result of my fear of dark places, of shadows lurking that wouldn’t easily reveal their faces. Often I covered them because I had the irrational fear that one day I’d walk past and find I wasn’t alone in the dark.
