One
Dylan
“Have you heard the rumors?” That’s what Priscilla opens up with this morning, not hello, not good morning, not anything else. She’s the gossip queen of all gossip here at Space Coast Holdings. I compose myself before answering because while, yes, she’s giving me information I wasn’t made aware of, it’s not something that should have been told like this. Especially when you’re the administrative assistant to what I’m now sure is my former boss. What a spectacular freaking Monday morning.
“Nope, but I have to get this spreadsheet ready before everyone gets here. I’m sure when I find things out, you will too,” I cut her off from starting on another full-blown conversation. The need to get this report done is hot on my mind. It’s never a good thing when you get an email late Sunday night asking for it to be done before the head honcho gets in.
“Oh, but I already know. Maybe you should have been here earlier.” This time, I really do ignore her. Some people are just meant to be hopeless twats. Clearly, Priscilla is bound and determined to wear that crown. I’ve been here since well before seven this morning.
“Priscilla, I really am trying to work.” I don’t bother looking up at her again, my focus solely on the document that’s on my computer screen. I’ve worked my way up from the bottom to where I’m at today, and there’s no way I’m going to let anyone deviate me from that plan.
“Tootles.” I glance up. She gives me a finger wave, causing me to shake my head, and to return to my work. Today is much like any other day here at the office—coffee readily available for me to gulp down, hair in a messy but professional bun on top of my head, subdued makeup. The only thing I absolutely hate about my job is the work attire. The constant state of wearing a blouse, nice skirt, or pantsuit is beyond annoying. What I wouldn’t give for a day to wear a T-shirt, jeans, and canvas sneakers. I’d gladly trade my heels for flats. Heck, I might even give up coffee for that day to come, and that’s saying a lot.
I get lost in my work, going over the data, profit and loss margin to be exact. I guess this explains why Mr. Hodges wanted this so early in the morning. I even thought about getting out of bed last night to come in and get it taken care of, but sleep was definitely needed.
“Finally,” I mutter under my breath, saving the document, clicking Print, and slowly scooting my chair back. After sitting in the same position for an hour, I need to stretch my legs. Even if it does mean putting my high heels back on to walk to the copy machine. My arms are above my head, trying to get the kinks out of my back, already knowing my shirt will show a sliver of skin with the way my body is arched. After Priscilla left, the only person who should arrive will be Mr. Hodges, and he doesn’t come in early at all. So, I’m not worried about anyone walking in at any given time. Plus, the copy machine takes a few minutes to warm up after not being used all weekend. So, I take my time stretching, then prop my hip on my desk, finishing my now cold coffee without a care in the world. Enjoying the last bit of peace before the phones will be ringing off the hook, emails will be chiming in every few minutes, and people will come up just to be nosey. That’s why I’m lost in my mind, thinking about what I’m going to pick up for dinner, and am startled half to death when a deep grumbly voice says, “Glad to see I’m paying an employee to sit on the job.” My stomach instantly drops. That’s not the voice of Mr. Hodges. I’m suddenly scared to turn around, which not something I’m proud to admit.
Two
Wesley
Damn it to hell. The sweet little morsel is standing in front of me in the tight-as-fuck skirt, body arched back, giving me the side view of her body. And fuck is it a body, one that could bring any given man to his knees. Too bad that’s not me, even if she looks like her body was made for sinning.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there. I’m Dylan Thorne.” She turns around, more beautiful than anyone should be allowed to be.
“Wesley Maxwell, your new boss. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t waste company time on stretching.” I arch an eyebrow, letting her know she’s well and truly busted.
“Nice to meet you. I was unaware of the change in positions. I’ll go grab the profit and loss report that Mr. Hodges asked for and bring it in to you.” Dylan ignores my comment. I nod my head and watch as she slides on her impossibly tall high heels, giving her the height advantage so she’s not completely overwhelmed by my stature.