Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
The following week, I meet with a few new investors. The meeting is a disaster, and I walk out of it ready to tear someone a new asshole. It’s nearly eight p.m., and I’m shocked when I get to my office and see Sofia still sitting at her desk. I thought she’d left hours ago. I told her not to wait for the meeting to be over.
She has her shoes kicked off under the desk, one bare foot tucked beneath the opposite calf. Her hair has come loose from its knot, falling around her shoulders in a way she’d probably fix if she knew anyone could see her. A half-empty container of noodles sits beside her keyboard. She’s glaring at her computer with focused fury.
“No,” she mutters to herself. “Dominic can’t be in Brooklyn and at a breakfast meeting in Queens at the same time. What the hell were you thinking, Peter?”
I stay frozen where I am, just watching her work. She’s so locked on the task at hand that she doesn’t even notice me standing there. She clicks on something, starts to drag it, then groans in frustration.
“That’s not going to work either. Fuck!”
I watch her lips form the word, and immediately picture her screaming it for another reason. A vision floods my head: her hair down, skirt bunched around her waist, bent over my desk as she screams my name. I have to clear it at once.
Sofia is, undeniably, attractive. I knew that when I hired her, and up until now I could ignore it. Fuck Rafe for being right.
She is the best assistant I’ve ever had. I don’t want to jeopardize that.
She looks up and startles. “Oh. You’re done.”
“I am,” I confirm, my mouth suddenly feeling dry.
She blushes under the weight of my gaze, but I realize, thankfully, that it has nothing to do with the way I’m looking at her and everything to do with how she’s lost her polish in the late hour.
“What are you still doing here?” I ask her. “I thought you would have gone home hours ago.”
She points at the screen. “Finance added a hotel review to your schedule. It’s created a disaster for all of next week.”
“Leave it,” I tell her. “It’s still going to be there for you to fix tomorrow.”
“I’m not going to have time to fix it tomorrow,” she tells me in a tight voice.
She doesn’t sound stressed, exactly. More like, she’s inconvenienced. She’s also staring at me like I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, and I should just leave her to her work. That’s probably true enough.
Two days later, Rafe is in my office again discussing a new shipment plan. Sofia comes in without knocking and slides a report casually on my desk before turning around and walking back out. I can’t help but watch her as she goes.
“‘Her looks are irrelevant,’” Rafe parrots to me in a mocking tone.
I look up at him in annoyance. “That hasn’t changed,” I tell him honestly. “What’s your point?”
“My point is, don’t even think about it. You’re noticing her now. In a way you weren’t before. Don’t fuck up a good thing.”
“I wasn’t planning to,” I mutter, fighting the urge to flip him off.
“That’s usually what men say right before they fuck things up.” He chuckles.
3
SOFIA
By the end of my first month at Vieri Holdings, I learn one very important truth. Rich people can only function because of their assistants. It isn’t just me. Every executive on our floor has someone who tells them where to go, prints out all their documents, and keeps a fresh suit hanging in the boss’s closet in case of an unexpected emergency.
I also happen to know that many of the executives have housekeepers and personal chefs. They literally can’t do anything without someone else helping them. It makes me think more fondly of my father who, by some miracle, has handled everything on his own.
Well, mostly on his own. There’s the matter of his insurmountable debt. Still, he’s never paid anyone to clean his apartment or raise his kid.
I’ve also learned that there are a lot of people who come into Dominic’s office unscheduled. They don’t leave their names, and for the most part, they don’t bother stopping in with me. It’s like I don’t even exist to them.
After meeting Dominic’s friend Rafe, I knew not to ask questions. I just pad Dominic’s schedule well enough to absorb all the unexpected meetings, and I keep busy so I don’t bother him.
I’m always watching, though. Men march in with their shoulders back and chests puffed like they own the room. They come out deflated, tails between their legs. Dominic specializes in making important men feel small. Then again, maybe they weren’t all that important to begin with.
There are two men who come in often who aren’t like the others. The first, of course, is Rafe. He’s gotten a little better at saying hello to me, at least and he never stays more than a few minutes at a time. Another assistant told me Rafe has an office in the building, but no one actually knows what he does. His position is very vague and has nothing to do with hospitality.