“Anyway, I’ll drop these off with you and then get my next assignment?”
“No,” I bark. I can’t see her. I don’t know that I could hold myself back from the confusing urges welling up inside me. At the same time, I can’t get rid of her. Not until I figure out the hold she has on me. “Give the dry cleaning to Rhonda, at the front desk. Then I need you to pick up a triple shot cappuccino and a boysenberry cream scone fromLa Dolce Vita.”
“Boysenberry cream, huh? I never would have guessed you have a sweet tooth.”
“That’s neither here nor there. Text me when you’re on your way back with my food.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” she says like a soldier to a commanding officer.
I’m about to reprimand her, but that damn tinkling laughter floats through the phone, softening everything in me. Well, everything except for one very stubborn organ.
“I just wanted to say, thank you for giving me another chance. I’d like to come see you at the end of the day and get all the paperwork sorted out.”
“No.” The word physically pains me as it leaves my lips, but I can’t see her. Not yet. She’s messing with my head, and other parts of me. I need a bit more information on her, need to be the one in control instead of the other way around. “In fact, you should know right now that I don’t often see my employees. I text and email, calling when absolutely necessary. But my job is about the numbers. The trends. I need solitude, and that solitude must be protected. That will be part of your tasks - not bothering me and not letting anyone else bother me, either.”
She’s silent for so long, I wonder if she hung up. I never apologize, and I’m not going to start now. Besides, I didn’t say anything to her that I haven’t also said to every single one of my assistants. They are faceless to me. As long as the cogs in the machine are working smoothly, there’s no need to interact with anyone. I like it that way.
Really. I do.
“I understand,” Juniper finally responds. “But I have the job?” She projects an air of confidence, but I hear the slight tremble in her voice. Christ, this woman is cracking me wide open, making me feel wild and protective. She needs a job. I need an assistant. It’s not about her, specifically. It’s about me.
Right. Keep telling yourself that.
“Yes.”
She lets out an excited shriek, followed by boisterous laughter. A horn honks in the background, and I can barely make out someone shouting. “I got the job!” Juniper exclaims, her voice a bit faded, as if she pulled the phone away to tell someone else.
“Whoopdie-fuckin’-do,” another voice says, this one gruff and weathered. Slightly slurred, too, as if the man has been drinking.
I want to rip his head off for talking to my Juniper that way. Fuck. Myassistant. That’s what I meant. An insult to her is an insult to me, as the head of the company.
“Well, that was just rude,” she mumbles into the phone. My lips do that thing again. It’s almost like a smile, but not quite. “Anyway, thank you, Mr. Sloan. You won’t regret this, I promise. I’ll try to tone down the sass.”
I grunt, swallowing down my response. I like her sass. Her feisty attitude. Her disregard for my position of power. Fuck. What have I gotten myself into?