by Kelly Myers
Yet, here I am admiring my new assistant and wondering what her tight, little body looks like beneath-
Okay, I need to stop. Seriously.
I literally can not concentrate and it’s really pissing me off.
I look down at the black coffee she brought in earlier and remember how her slim fingers had wrapped around the cup. I wonder what those same fingers would feel like wrapped around my cock.
I start to get hard and groan.
Hiring Ashley Monroe is proving to be a very bad idea.
Chapter Eleven
Ashley
“Is he always so intense?” I ask.
Becca looks over and her glasses slip a notch. She pushes them back up with a snort. “That’s a nice way to put it.”
Oh, great, what have I gotten myself into?
Becca trains me at lightspeed. Like she has somewhere better to be and I’m doing my best to keep up and understand everything, but it’s a lot. Especially since this is my first office job. I glance down at the intimidating phone and its ten separate lines.
I already know this phone is going to be my nemesis, and I haven’t even answered one call yet.
“Drew probably gets 100 calls a day,” she says, “so, it’s important that you filter through them. Don’t put anyone through to him unless they’re important.”
How do I screen calls when I have no idea who is important? I wonder. But, I didn’t want to ask such an obvious question for fear of sounding stupid. I guess I would eventually learn whose calls he accepted and those he declined. I’m new so I believe he will understand and cut me some slack.
At least, I hope he will.
As if on cue, the phone rings and Becca snatches it up. “Drew Carson’s office.” Even though Becca seems a bit dull in the personality department and her fashion sense is questionable, it’s her competence that makes her shine. She knows exactly what she’s doing and I envy that.
Becca hits a button and Drew answers in his office. “I have Dan on line two,” she says. Then, she puts the call through.
I try to see what buttons she hits to make all that happen, but her fingers move like some kind of professional pianist and it’s all a blur.
“Dan McPherson is Drew’s lawyer. Always put him through,” she says.
I nod. “So, how did you transfer-”
The phone rings again. “Drew Carson’s office,” Becca says. “Sure, John, hang on a sec and I’ll ask.”
It rings again and again. Becca answers quickly and confidently. She puts some people on hold, sends others through, switches others to voicemail, talks to Drew, finds out information and relays it back and forth. My head spins and my stomach is a pit of anxiety.
Maybe if I practice, I’ll get the hang of it. But, before I can ask, Becca moves on and starts talking about how to order supplies and snacks and beverages.
“Just keep the kitchen stocked or people get grumpy. The number’s in there.” She points to a fat rolodex full of contacts and their numbers.
An hour later, she leans back in her chair and stretches. “That’s a quick rundown, but you’ll catch on. It’s all pretty basic.”
My confused face must have finally registered with her because she tilts her head and asks, “Did I go too fast? Sorry, but the quicker I get this done, the sooner I can go back to my own department. I was just temporarily filling in here.” She lowers her voice and looks at me over the tortoiseshell rims of her glasses. “I’m not going to lie, Drew can be a handful and I’m not cut out to be his assistant. He kind of scares me. But, I’m sure you’ll be great!”
My eyes go wide. “Why does he scare you?”
“Look at him.”
My eyes move up to the glass window between us and I watch him talk on his phone. I already notice he has a habit of running a hand through his dark hair a lot. It gives him a sexy, disheveled look. And, don’t even get me started on his eyes. They’re like two sapphires the color of deep midnight, rimmed in onyx.
All of a sudden, he looks at me and my heart flutters. I look away fast. “He is attractive,” I admit. Especially with that light scruff on his lower face. It gives him an edgy, almost dangerous look. The man oozes sex appeal.
Becca gives me a strange look and shakes her head. “No, I mean he’s a beast. They don’t call him Drew the Devil for nothing. I don’t like dealing with such intense personalities. I’m much happier down in accounting crunching numbers and burning my candle.”
I feel my face go red. Why did I comment on his looks? How humiliating. “Who calls him the Devil?”
“He’s the king of hostile takeovers. So, a lot of people.”
“Oh.” I have no idea what to say. It’s too early to speak badly about my new boss and, to be honest, I don’t even know him. Yesterday, he seemed nice enough to hire me on the spot when I don’t have much experience. But, all this talk about beasts and devils makes my stomach churn again.
All of a sudden, I notice Becca start gathering up her things and panic fills me. “You’re leaving?” I ask, my voice rising an octave. I almost grab her arm in desperation.
“I told you. I have to get back down to my department.”
“But, I-I’m still not sure about so much.”
“”If you have any questions, ask Regina. She’s in the next office and is Michael’s assistant.”
The phone rings and my heart stops.
When it rings again, Becca nods at it and I reach for the receiver, scoop it up and say, “Mr. Carson’s office.” Someone asks for Drew. “Hold on, please.”
I look up in a panic and blink stupidly. “It’s for, um, Drew. Obviously.”
“Ask who it is.”
I suddenly realize that the person on the line could hear our exchange because I did not put him on hold. Oops. “Who’s calling? Okay, hang on.” I hit the hold button. “It’s Patrick Holden.”
“He’s in Drew’s club. They hang out together sometimes. So, get back on the line, hit transfer then Drew’s extension, 101, and ask if he wants Patrick.”
I release a breath and do what she says. When Drew’s deep voice answers, I think of velvet. So warm and soft. My skin tingles.
“Patrick Holden from your club is calling for you,” I say, sounding extremely awkward.
“Put him though,” Drew directs.
“Okay, one second, Mr. Carson.” I hear Drew sigh, like he’s annoyed, and I look to Becca for further guidance.
“Now go back to Patrick, hit transfer, 101 again and then the other transfer button.”
When the call goes through flawlessly, I give a tentative smile. Maybe I could do this.
“One other thing,” Becca says, and swings her macrame purse over a bony shoulder. “He hates being called Mr. Carson.”
“Oh!” I make a face. Then, why didn’t she tell me that two hours ago? I wonder.
“Good luck!” she says with a cheerful smile. It’s obvious that Becca can’t wait to get the hell out of here.
As Becca walks away, my nerves kick in and I tell myself to relax. I can do this. It’s my first day so everything is new and I’m a smart girl. I will figure it all out and do my best to make sure Mr. Carson- I mean, Drew- is happy.
It doesn’t take me long to realize that no matter what I do, Drew, in general, is not a happy person.
Ten minutes after Becca leaves me to fend for myself, I’m studying a thick binder full of notes about my job position when the worst case scenario happens.
Every line on my phone rings at once.
A surge of panic hits me, but I figure it is best to answer each call as quickly as possible and ask them to hold. Then, I can sort through them all and figure out who is important enough to put through.
“Mr. Car- I mean Drew Carson’s office, can you hold, please?”
I do this ten times and then stare at ten flashing lights. Okay, back to line one. “Thank you for holding. May I ask who’s calling?”
“Elliott,” a man says.
“Um, let me see if
Drew is available. Oh, um, Elliott who, please?” I ask. Best to confirm right away.
“Elliott Jones.”
“Okay, thanks.” I put him back on hold. Then, I hit the intercom button and say, “Excuse me, Drew?”
My timid voice echoes throughout the entire 25th floor. Omigod. I must’ve hit the wrong button. Face flaming, I look up and see Drew staring at me. He quirks a dark brow. This is horrible. I can see him look down at his phone, waiting for me to try again.
But, now I’m freaked out so I just get up, walk over and open his door. “Hi, um, I have Elliott on line one for you,” Shit, what was his last name?
“Elliot who?” he calmly asks.
“Um.” Think, Ash. “Jones!” I blurt out, remembering in the nick of time.
“From where?”
I bit my lip. I have no idea, I want to say. Just take the stupid call. “One sec.” I hurry out and grab line one. “Where are you calling from?”
“San Diego.”
I throw him on hold again and race back to Drew’s doorway. “San Diego,” I tell him.
I think I see a flash of amusement pass through those dark blue eyes, but it’s super quick and I can’t be sure because now he looks all serious again.
“I mean, what company?”
My face falls. I nod and hold up a hand. “Oh, right. Hang on.”
I run back over and pick up the line again. I also notice that several other people waiting have hung up. “Mr. Jones, what company are you calling from?”
“Bismarck,” Elliott Jones informs me.
Again, I go back to Drew’s doorway. His chin rests on top of his laced fingers and he raises that dark brow again.
“Bismarck.”
He looks away, sighs. “Do you know what he wants?”
I want to cry. Literally, burst into tears, but I bite the inside of my mouth and force myself to hold it together. I hate looking stupid and incompetent. “I can find out.” I turn back around and my heels click loudly as I run back over to the phone which by now is ringing again.
“Mr. Jones, can you tell me what this call is in regards to?”
“Toner.”
I frown. Huh? “I’m sorry?”
“I have a great deal to offer Mr. Carson on toner.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I’m sure Drew would want to hear about a great deal so I rush back, now out of breath, and say, “He has a great deal for you on toner.”
Drew lets an arm drop to his desk and slides his face into his palm. “Toner?” he asks blankly.
I nod.
“Why would I give a shit about toner?”
I swallow hard. “Because it’s a good deal?” I reply weakly.
He shakes his head and looks at me like I’m the dumbest human being alive. Then, his direct line rings and he swipes it up. “Carson,” he says.
Taking that as a dismissal, I walk back over to my desk and see that every single person has hung up. Including Elliott Jones from Bismarck.
I google “Elliott Jones, San Diego, Bismarck.”
It’s a company that sells office supplies.
Next, I google “toner.”
It’s ink for copy machines.
Oh, for the love of all that is holy. My eyes slide shut. I just wasted ten minutes on a sales call. No wonder he thinks I’m an idiot.
I look down at my computer and see it’s almost noon. Maybe I can leave for lunch and just never come back.
At this point, it seems like the best thing to do.
Chapter Twelve
Drew
My stomach growls and I look down at my Rolex Daytona and see it’s after one o’clock in the afternoon. I should grab something to eat before my conference call in an hour. I stand up, button my suit jacket and grab my phone.
I open my office door and abruptly stop when Ashley looks up at me. For the past two hours, anyone of importance has been calling me on my direct line. According to everyone, “the new girl keeps leaving me on hold.”
“Did Becca show you how to use the phone?” I ask.
She scrunches her nose and it’s pretty much the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.
“Sort of,” she says, and gives me a crooked smile.
Adorable or not, though, I need my assistant to be thoroughly efficient. “Well, I sort of have a very important conference call in an hour. I’m going to need you to make sure we’re all connected and no one’s left on hold.”
“Okay.”
“I’m going to grab lunch. If anyone asks, I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” When I start to walk away, she clears her throat.
“Drew?”
The sound of my name on her lips makes my heart hitch in my throat. Slowly, I turn and see her looking at me with inquisitive eyes.
“What time do I go to lunch?” she asks.
“You’re supposed to go 12-12:30.”
She looks at the clock. “Oh,” she says.
With a sigh, I turn and walk out the main glass doors.
Either Becca did a shitty job training this girl or she’s just naturally bad at everything.
Except, she isn’t, I think, and step onto the elevator. She’s actually damn good at making me want to shove my hands under her skirt and explore what’s underneath.
I step out of the elevator and realize I don’t have enough time to leave the building so I wander down to the cafeteria on the second-level atrium. I grab a sandwich and pause. I grab three more, two different salads, a couple fresh fruit bowls and a hummus plate. Then, for good measure, I throw in a veggie wrap.
I pay the cashier and have her put it all in a bag. Then, I head back up to the office.
When I walk back through the glass doors, I see Ashley studying the assistant manual. I stop beside her desk and set the bag down. “I’m not sure what you like,” I say, my voice a little gruff.
She looks at the bag and smiles. “For me?”
“Pick whatever looks good,” I tell her.
She scoots closer to reach inside the bag and I can smell her perfume. It’s some powdery-vanilla scent and it goes straight into my nose and right down to my dick. Christ. No good deed goes unpunished.
“Ooh, can I have the veggie wrap?”
I’ve never seen anyone look so excited over a cafeteria wrap of soggy vegetables. “All yours,” I say.
“Oh, wait, there’s hummus.”
I reach into the bag and take everything out. My hand brushes hers in the process and it’s like an electric current passes between us. I look down into her eyes, like two swirling pools of water, and she licks her lips.
Fuck me.
No, seriously. At this moment, I really want to tell her to do just that.
Instead, I grab a sandwich and turn away.
“Thank you,” I hear her say.
I look over my shoulder and nod. “You’re welcome.”
Back in my office behind my desk, I unwrap the sandwich, but my appetite is gone. My appetite for food, anyway.
I look out the glass window and see Ashley lick excess hummus from her upper lip. When I feel my lower body tighten in response, I clench my jaw. What in God’s name was I thinking when I hired this woman?
Apparently, I must be some kind of masochist because I am starting to enjoy the way she’s torturing me.
I do not, however, enjoy the way things go later that afternoon.
After hanging up on only one of the callers for the conference call, Ashley manages to re-connect us all within a few minutes. I think she’s finally catching on.
The call between myself and the potential new client and his lawyer with far too many questions irks me.
I don’t feel the need to push myself onto someone much less clarify to them why I’m the best choice. My track record speaks for itself. If you aren’t 100 percent onboard from the beginning, go to another company. I could care less.
But, I remain polite and answer their idiotic questions.
Afterwards, Ashley’s sunny voice co
mes over my intercom. At least this time, she doesn’t address the whole 25th floor. Progress, I think. “I have Dan McPerson on the line for you,” she announces.
“Put him through,” I say and, even though I’m dreading this call, I have to go forward with the JD Unlimited takeover.
Of course, Dan tries to talk me out of it and everything he says makes perfect sense. But, I’m not thinking logically anymore. A fire burns in my blood and all I want is James Douglas’s head on a spike. At this point, I don’t give two shits about running his company anymore. I think it would be far more rewarding to take it over and shut it down. Burn the damn thing to the ground just to spite him. Fucking pain in my ass. I’m going to bring him to his knees.
Dan calls me stubborn and claims I’m being an obstinate asshole. Yeah, so?
Finally, he relents. He doesn’t have a choice as long as he’s on my payroll.
Part of my assistant’s job is to forward various emails, mostly ones from HR, or some from research and ensure they go to specific departments. I was pretty sure the thick handbook on Ashley’s desk that she’d been perusing all day should have explained it all clearly.
But, at four o’clock I see a private email from Tabitha was forwarded to the entire office.
The whole fucking office.
Even before I open it up, my gut clenches. I’ve received enough emails from my passive-aggressive ex-wife to know that she enjoys trying to make me feel like an idiot by pointing out the obvious.
And, as I read through this email, it’s no different. Tabitha reminds me that time is of the essence and to get my ass in gear. Then, she comments on my hair again. Maybe you should call my boyfriend’s stylist, she suggests. Unless, of course, you’re going for a Haight-Ashbury look.
I drop my face in my hands and want to kill Ashley.
Putting my personal business out there for everyone is just about the worst thing you can do to me. I not only value competence, but also my privacy.
