“That’ll do. Bring it in. Hold all my calls and please reschedule any meetings that were on the schedule for this week. I need to see what needs to be done first and foremost. After that, I’ll take a black coffee, one sugar, then we’ll discuss what I’ll be expecting of you.” Still, my new assistant doesn’t say anything. I see the annoyance on her face though. The tightening of her jaw, the way her shoulders are thrown back, accentuating features I have no right to even admire, but fuck, the tightening in my slacks is telling me she’s going to be a temptress.
“Sure thing, Mr. Maxwell.” She walks away from me, giving me her backside, and fuck. I have a feeling the palm of my hand will be getting a lot of use with her as my assistant. Randall Hodges decided to contact me not too long ago, telling me Space Coast Holdings was in the red in the worst way possible, which I’m sure with Dylan getting the profit and loss report, she saw the writing on the wall. If not, she’ll be replaced as well. Though, Randall did speak highly of her and how she’s handled everything seamlessly even with the thought of his business closing its doors.
I wait until Dylan is out of view, trying not to stare like a punk-ass kid, but since her clothes mold to her fine-as-hell body, it’s not easy. Especially with the way her hips sway with each step.
“Fuck.” I’m grumbling out the word as I turn around and head into my new office. There’s going to be a mountain of paperwork to get through, and with the number of meetings I’ll be in next week, I know I’ll need to get a handle on everything.
The outside of Space Coast Holdings is sleek and modern, the lobby much the same, along with the outer offices. But when I step in my office, I feel like I’ve been sucked into a time warp. “This has got to be some kind of joke.”
“Nope, Mr. Hodges really did love this time period.” Dylan sneaks up behind me, a folder in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.
“How did he get anything done? It’s a dungeon. There’s no way I can work in this office. Come on, we’ll work in your area until you can find someone to clear it out.” Randall even has what I’m assuming are windows covered with thick red curtains.
“Okay, let me get you a chair, and I’ll call downstairs and ask if one of the interns can clear it out.” I take my cup of coffee from her, our fingers grazing one another. I hear her sharp inhale of breath. Damn, this is going to be hard, extremely hard.
“I think they’ll need more than one intern. On better thought, I’ll call the main branch and have someone do it. They’ll be faster than an unpaid intern.” Dylan hands me the paperwork.
“Whatever you think will be best, Mr. Maxwell.” It may seem that she’s acting complacent, but I can see her holding her temper in check.
“I’ll give you the number. They’ll need to be acquainted with you if you plan on staying on at Maxwell Enterprises.” This is a checkmate to see just what Dylan Thorne is made of.
“Not a problem. And, Mr. Maxwell?” she volleys back.
“Yes, Miss. Thorne?”
“I’m not going anywhere, not unless you’re reassigning me, and if that’s the case, let me know. I’ll clear out my desk right away.” Those are her parting words as she once again leaves me stunned fucking speechless.
Three
Dylan
The fucking nerve of Wesley Maxwell. It’s enough to make me want to pop open a bottle of champagne, put a splash of orange juice in it and toss it back. Sure, I knew Space Coast Holdings was struggling. It’s hard not to see the writing on the wall when we were bringing in interns, not paying them, and then, of course, I’m not an idiot. Especially when I’m doing the profit and loss reports. Add that into Mr. Hodges always looking frazzled when he actually came in.
I grab a chair from the corner, setting up an area for Mr. Dickhead-who-will-drive-me-crazy, and then wait for him to grace me with his presence. I mean, who cares if he is handsome? He’s a jerk. I mean, sure, Wesley Maxwell can fill out a suit, wearing all black, head to toe, form fitting, showing off the muscular tone of his body. And let’s just say I bet he doesn’t miss a day at the gym with the way each pull of his muscle is shown off in everything he does. Brown hair shaved close to his scalp on the sides, the top thick. And so what if I’ve already imagined running my fingers through it. It won’t ever happen, but a girl can always keep things tucked away in her spank bank. I can imagine it now, those light brown eyes with flecks of gold and green surrounding them, a smattering of days’ worth of stubble along his jaw, and he’s in between my legs, looking at me like he wants to devour me whole.