by Vivian Wood
She turned and made her way out of his office. He had to rip his eyes away from staring at her ass.
The door closed, and he sighed. The fact was, when he saw her at the club, he was immediately attracted to her face and body. Ass, tits, legs… all fucking amazing. The angelic face and red hair were just icing on the cake, the cherry on top.
And what she’d done with that body…
He could still picture her writhing beneath him, legs spread, mouth open as she cried out for more. Fuck, it was sexy.
Smith shifted in his chair, aware that he was getting hard again. He gave himself another shake and turned on his computer. Answering some emails was something he could do right now, at least.
He sank into the task, sipping his coffee. There were several messages in his inbox about the company’s financial statements. Mostly it was a lot of accountants talking about how there were irregularities in the statements, but they weren’t sure what the irregularities were.
He felt like he had barely skimmed the surface of the important emails when Cameron knocked and came in again.
“It’s time for your meeting upstairs,” she announced.
He sighed and stood up. “Let’s go.”
“Us?”
His brow rose. “Unless you plan on me taking my own notes.”
She flushed. “Of course not. Let me get my things.”
She disappeared from the doorway. He spent a couple of minutes getting his laptop and a few papers together, then got up and headed out the door.
Cameron fell in step with him, shuffling papers and her laptop. He strode to the elevator, letting her hurry to match his steps. He got in with her on his heels.
As they rode up, he tried not to inhale too much of the gently perfumed air around her. She smelled like the perfect combination of vanilla and spice. It was too much.
The second the doors opened, he stormed out, leaving her to keep pace. She struggled to keep up in her heels, falling behind.
“Smith!” his father called the second he entered the conference room. A huge conference table dominated the room, and half a dozen of the company’s upper-level suits were also present. “It’s about time!”
He shook hands with his father, keeping his face blank in the face of his father’s exuberance. “I’m here.”
“Yes, yes,” his father said. “Let’s get settled in, shall we?”
They all moved to seats at the table. Smith noticed Cameron hesitating, trying to decide where she should sit. He pointed to the seat next to his, raising a brow.
She flushed and hurried to sit, opening her laptop to take notes.
“Smith, I wanted to have you here so the accountants can have their day in the sun,” his father said. “They’re all determined to fuss, so I said we’d both hear them out. Let’s just get it all over with.”
“I see,” Smith said, looking at the worried faces around the table. “Well, let’s hear it.”
One of the accountants cleared his throat and stood, prepared to begin lecturing the room.
Smith slid a look over to Cameron, who was already typing up a storm. Her brow was puckered, little frown lines making themselves known. He almost smiled at that, but caught himself in time.
This was the problem, this exactly. He should be worrying about whatever it was that had the accountants worried, not thinking about his assistant’s cute facial expression.
He glowered at the table, knowing that he was missing whatever the talking heads were saying, and feeling angry about it.
The accountant droned on about corporate accounts, which didn’t help things. He kept glancing over at Cameron, thinking illicit thoughts about the other night, and then forcing his gaze away.
He wondered whether she had really been that good in bed, or if the situation was trapping them both in a bubble, making their night together seem much more magical than it really was.
If she wasn’t right underneath his nose, their night together would fade into the background. The fact that he couldn’t get the noises she’d made out of his head, the breathy little ohs to the shouts of pleasure… before he knew it, the meeting was over, though he'd be hard-pressed to admit that he hadn't retained most of what he'd heard. He hoped Cameron had taken good notes. They returned to his office without speaking to one another, and he got back to work, glad for the distraction.
After a long series of conference calls, Smith rubbed his temple, thinking again exactly how fucked he was.
His intercom beeped, drawing his attention. He pressed the button.
“Yes?”
“The senior Mr. Calloway is on the line for you,” Cameron said. “Should I transfer him?”
He let go of button for a second, sighing. Then he pressed it again. “Go ahead.”
After a moment, the phone started to ring. He picked it up.
“Father,” he said.
“Just calling to see how the new executive assistant is doing,” his father said. “Pretty little thing, isn’t she?”
He gritted his teeth. Of course his father would have an opinion on his assistant. His own assistants changed every few months because he couldn’t stop sleeping with them.
“She’s fine,” Smith said, keeping his voice calm.
“Well, that’s good. I was wondering if you wanted my lake house for the weekend. Take her there, show her the ropes.”
Smith wished he hadn’t expected this phone call, he really did. Unfortunately, his father was constantly encouraging him to misbehave, egging him on. Yet another reason for his strict rule against not combining work and pleasure.
“No, I don’t think I’ll need it,” he said. “Miss Turner and I will be too busy to be running around, I should think.”
“She’s not resisting your advances, is she?”
“There’s nothing to resist,” he said. Nothing now, anyway.
“I’ll fire her, if you wish.”
Smith hesitated. Although it was coming from entirely the wrong place, his father’s words did have merit. He could let his father take care of Cameron. He’d never have to see her again.
Too bad that wasn’t the kind of man Smith thought himself to be.
“No,” he answered firmly. “She’s fine where she is.”
Even though I can’t stop staring at her ass when she walks away, or thinking about what’s just underneath her skirt, he thought.
“All right, all right. Your loss. I’ve got calls to make. Talk to you later.”
His father hung up without preamble. He exhaled and leaned back in his chair, unsure what he was supposed to do.
4
A few days later, Cam straightened her stockings beneath her dress and shifted in her seat. She was looking through page after page of scanned financial documents, and coming up with nothing. And the damn stockings she wore took some getting used to, not that Erika cared.
After telling her editor a little bit of the drama — namely that she’d flirted with Smith at a bar prior to working for him — she’d gotten a stipend to go shopping.
She had plenty of dresses for work, and said so… but that didn’t stop Erika from giving her the stipend.
“Get some stockings, and the matching garters… and don’t forget panties,” Erika said. “Men love matching panties.”
Cam wasn’t sure what to say to that. She should turn red and stammer about how Smith was never going to see her panties, but he already had. She wasn’t sure how far she could go with her lie about whether or not they’d gone home together, so she bit her tongue and let it pass.
Now she was sitting in the office, staring out the window at the gorgeous view, and wondering if Smith had even noticed her lingerie. It was stupid to worry about, seeing as how he’d been hellbent on ignoring her the last few days.
She looked at the clock on her computer. It was almost noon. Time for Smith to go to lunch, and for her to clean his office.
It turned out that Smith had a compulsive streak of tidiness. Every day, he put all his t
rash in the trash can, and then sat the can next to the door. When she hadn’t noticed it the first day, he’d took her aside and showed her that the trash went into a bin downstairs.
He also showed her the cleaning closet, a sleek chrome panel in the wall of his office that opened to show a dazzling array of cleaning products. Every day at noon, she was expected to vacuum, dust, and polish everything in his office.
And she’d learned to be quick about it; the first time she cleaned, she took the whole lunch hour, trying to be perfect. She was alarmed when he came back from lunch as she was finishing, and then launched into composing a letter, expecting her to transcribe as he dictated.
Her stomach had growled all afternoon that day, until she could sneak away for a couple quick bites of her lunch. Smith Calloway was a little more than particular, that was for sure.
She sighed. Picking up her purse, she rummaged around inside and pulled out a necklace. The necklace had a locket, a little gold one, its etching worn smooth from being touched. She rubbed the outside of the locket now, comforting herself.
The phone rang at her desk, and she answered it.
“Hello?”
“Yes, this is the senior Mr. Calloway’s office calling,” a nasally older woman responded. “Mr. Calloway would like a meeting with both you and his son, as soon as possible.”
Cam’s hand flew to her throat. Had Smith complained about her to his father? She’d barely been here a week!
“Certainly,” she said, though it came out sounding weak.
“Mr. Calloway would prefer it if you came now. Will that be possible?”
“Let me check,” she said, putting the woman on hold. She put the necklace back in her purse quickly.
She took a deep breath, exhaled, and then went to Smith’s office door. She knocked, and was told to come in.
“What is it?” Smith asked, not looking up from his computer.
“Your father wants to see us both in his office. Now, if possible.”
She tried not to let her voice shake, tried to stand tall. It wasn’t as if she’d done anything wrong… yet.
“Us?” he said, pausing.
“Yes. Both of us,” she said.
He remained perfectly neutral, which she had learned to expect from him.
“All right. Tell them we’ll come up now,” he said, closing his laptop.
Cam nodded, hurrying back out to give the secretary the heads-up. When she hung up, Smith was at the doorway, his expression hooded.
She cleared her throat.
“Do you, um… do you know what this is about?” she asked.
He glanced at her, his midnight blue eyes curious. “I have no idea.”
She swallowed back any other questions she had. After all, she was about to find out what the big boss said, wasn’t she?
Smith was strangely quiet as they rode the elevator to his father’s office. Cam couldn’t help but notice that he seemed on edge. Then again, in Cam’s limited experience, he always seemed on edge where his father was concerned.
She let him lead the way to the senior Calloway’s office. She stepped into the room after Smith, her eyes going wide at how big the space was. The office was easily double the size of Smith’s, with a huge oak desk and stylized chairs sitting before it.
Spencer Calloway stood up as they entered, waving them into the chairs. “Sit, sit.”
Cam glanced at Smith as she took a seat. He looked foreboding, to say the least.
“What are we here for?” Smith asked, matter-of-factly.
“You’ll excuse my son,” Spencer said to Cam. “Of course, being his executive assistant, you undoubtedly already know of his short temper.”
Smith gave his father a flat look. After a moment of indecision, Cam decided to stick up for Smith.
“He’s always perfectly even-tempered with me,” she lied smoothly, putting a smile on her face.
Spencer’s brows shot up a fraction. “Well, isn’t that nice. Smith, isn’t it nice that your employee speaks highly of you?”
Smith looked like there were about a thousand conversations he’d rather be having than this one. He shifted in his chair, his patience wearing thin.
“Very nice. Now do you mind telling us why you’ve called us in here?”
“I want you to take over running Europe,” his father said casually.
She saw Smith sit up a little straighter. “What? Why?”
“Relax. I’m going to focus on running things here in the US. For me to really concentrate, I’ll have to hand over Europe to you. Think of it as a promotion,” he said.
“I… thank you,” Smith said.
“Obviously it will involve some travel,” Spencer said. “In fact, I was hoping that you two would leave tomorrow for the office in Paris. Provide some oversight, let them know that we’re still paying attention. And see the sights, of course.”
Her jaw dropped. Paris wasn’t part of her plan, but how could she say no?
Spencer winked at her, even as Smith scowled.
“We won’t have time for sightseeing,” Smith said.
“Oh, I’m sure you will,” Spencer said, waving. “You’ll figure it out.”
Spencer turned to Cameron. “You’d be willing to go, wouldn’t you?”
“I… I mean, of course,” she said, her cheeks turning pink.
“Have you been before?”
“No, but I have a passport,” she replied.
“Good. You’ll be paid time and a half for your entire trip,” Spencer said.
“Thank you, sir,” she said.
She felt Smith’s eyes on her, demanding something from her, but she had no idea what that might be. Spencer leaned back in his seat and grinned.
“All right, that’s all. You’d both better head home and start packing.”
“Thank you,” she said again, getting up and following Smith out.
They made it to the elevators before he rounded on her, lecturing her in a whisper.
“Do us both a favor. Email my father right now, and tell him you’re sorry but you can’t take the assignment.”
“What? Why?” she whispered back.
His eyes flashed with anger.
“Because you can’t handle international travel,” he said, stepping into the elevator. “It’s going to be a lot of long hours and close quarters.”
She arched a brow, crossing her arms. “And?”
He reached out and pressed the STOP button on the elevator panel, and they lurched to a halt.
“And I, for one, want this trip to be entirely professional.”
“Are you saying that I am not professional?”
“It’s all well and good for you to run around here in your stockings,” he said, pinning her with his gaze. “Yes, I did fucking notice them, so well done on that account. But my father just put me in charge of Europe, which he’s never even talked about before. I’m not going to let him down by staring at you rather than working.”
“All I’m hearing is how you are going to be adversely affected by us working together,” Cameron said, narrowing her eyes. “It was one night! Just one night. Surely you can forget it.”
Smith stepped closer, caging her in a corner. “Of course I can. I’m worried that you can’t.”
She lifted her chin, determined not to lose her position now. She raised a finger, ready to chastise him.
“Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself,” she said, poking him in the chest.
He grabbed her hand, and the contact ran through her like an electric shock. She wasn’t sure what it was about him that made her body react, but every time they touched it was like being connected with a live wire.
For a second, they stood like that. Smith holding her hand, Cam looking indignant. Both of them so close together, mere inches separated them.
Cam saw him break first, his gaze slipping down to her lips. She licked them nervously, and wondered if he’d lean in, maybe kiss her.
Then he stepped back, dropp
ing her hand, and shook his head.
“Fine,” he said, pressing the STOP button again. “Don’t come crying to me when this doesn’t play out like you want it to, though.”
“How exactly do you think I want this to play out?” she hissed.
He frowned, and she didn’t say anything else. When the elevator doors opened, she got off, but he didn’t.
“See you tomorrow,” she said.
He merely cocked a brow and pressed the down button. The doors closed in her face.
Cam exhaled. That was who she would have to put up with for the duration of her trip to Paris, apparently.
Straightening her back, she went to go get her things. She had a trip to prepare for.
5
Smith sat in his seat to the rear of the Calloway private jet, looking out at the clouds and brooding. He refused to look at Cameron, who was sitting in a rear-facing seat closer to the front, reading a Parisian guidebook and pointedly ignoring him.
He’d arrived on the tarmac hoping that she might rethink her argument, that she might not show up at all. Yet as soon as he had climbed the stairs of the private jet, he’d seen her putting her personal things in the overhead bin.
She was wearing the same kind of outfit that would fit in at the office, a modest light blue dress with little triangles printed all over it. And of course she was wearing stockings with garters, which he saw when she checked the overhead bin for a blanket.
He’d trudged on the plane without a word. He could feel her eyes on him. He imagined she was probably disgruntled about the fact that she was all dressed up while he wore jeans and a dark blue t-shirt. Nobody said that she needed to dress up, though.
Now that they were airborne, he was staring out the window and wondering what to do with her. It wasn’t as if he was a creep who always fantasized about his secretaries. No, it was her specifically.
The problem, essentially, was that every time she opened her mouth, he kept thinking of how her skin tasted, of how she'd cried out as he'd fucked her. She might be asking him if he wanted some coffee, but his brain was flashing images of her underneath his body, of the way her fantastic ass jiggled a little as he’d fucked her from behind.
