ONE
Lana
Joseph Russo.
Most definitely the sexiest man that I had ever laid my eyes on.
He was Italian-American, though he looked more Italian than he did American. His dark hair always fell over into his eyes, and his eyes were just as dark. They always left my insides feeling like melted chocolate.
Like now.
Mr. Russo was standing in front of my desk with his hip leaned against the side, looking through the long ass email the head of the finance department had sent him with the monthly sales and expenses report. And while I was supposed to be looking through resumes and applications to schedule interviews for a potential secretary for our floor, I couldn’t stop glancing at him from under my lashes.
He had taken off his suit jacket and his tie, leaving him in only a charcoal gray shirt with the top two buttons undone and a pair of black slacks with shoes more expensive than my monthly salary, and believe me, I got paid an insanely decent amount here.
The man was wealthy as fuck, and he definitely dressed and looked the part.
Unlike so many other men that I had come into contact with while working for Mr. Russo, my boss actually took the time before and after work to work out. The man was a perfect build of muscle while still being slim. And I’d seen those muscles at work a few months ago when he got sick of having to walk in and out of his office to speak to me, so he single-handedly moved everything that had been in my office into his while I stood by looking like a deer caught in the headlights.
If Mr. Russo wanted something, he got it by any means necessary.
“His numbers are wrong.” Mr. Russo stated out of the blue, jerking my eyes up to him and out of my head. Thank God because I knew I would start drooling at any moment as I pictured his muscles flexing in my mind. Mr. Russo had that effect on me.
He walked around my desk to stand so close to me that his body heat wrapped around me along with the scent of his enticing cologne and after shave. It was intoxicating.
This man smelled like pure Heaven.
“Look here.” He said, placing the papers on my desk. He pointed at one of the charts. I focused my attention on what he was pointing out to me. “This is a simple error that he should have caught before sending this over.” And he was right. It was a simple error, one even a newbie should have caught while looking over the paperwork. One of the numbers had been punched into the chart twice, so it then fucked up the rest of the financial numbers.
“Would you like me to go down and explain to him what needs to be fixed?” I asked him.
Mr. Russo cast me a look that made me feel like an idiot. I cast my eyes down to my desk in an immediate look of submission. I hated when I got that look from him. “Email him. Do not waste your energy going down ten floors.” He scolded.
He stepped back from me and went back to his desk. I frowned. I wanted to tell him that it wouldn’t be that much energy – that honestly, I could use the exercise – but Mr. Russo liked obedience in his employees, and since I was good at being submissive to him, it had helped me keep my job for a lot longer than his other executive assistants had kept theirs.
I quickly began typing out an email to the head of the financial department, explaining what Mr. Russo had found and what needed to be corrected. After doing that, I pulled the monthly report from the advertising team, printing it out to give to Mr. Russo to look over.
“Mr. Russo,” I called. He looked up from his phone, aiming those unnerving, dark eyes at me. “I have the report ready from the advertising department.”
He held his hand out to me. Standing up from my chair, I walked around my desk, but I didn’t pay attention to where I was walking, and I tripped over his expensive rug, breaking the heel of my shoe and sending me toppling to the floor, the papers in my hands scattering everywhere.
I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart racing in my chest.
If there was one thing Mr. Russo could not stand, it was clumsiness.
Please, God, do not let him fire me.
I needed this job.