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I put my phone on silent mode with a huff. If those fuckers think I’m desperate enough to jump through hoops, they can think again. I’m Hunter fucking Stride andnobodymakes a fool out of me.

Despite my best efforts at settling in for the night, my mind races, which is why I never get any fucking shut eye. My brain works at a mile a minute, formulating and planning and organizing. There are so many moving parts that I need to keep track of, so many meetings to get to, people to pretend to like, and employees to delegate. I thought fame and fortune would make my life easy. In reality, it’s just a pain in the ass. Everybody wants a piece of me when I barely have enough to spare myself.

The endless workload is why I put out an ad for a personal assistant in the first place. If they can help ease some of my burden, maybe I can spend more time doing what I actually want to do —directing and producing projects that excite me.

I want someone who’s going to treat me right.

Thoughts of Eden pop back into my head. Her long, fluttering lashes. Her elegant black hair. The way her dress hugged her body, leaving me wondering just what was underneath.

I don’t know what comes over me when I reach for my phone again. I don’t know exactly what I’m thinking when I pull her number off her initial job application to call her. I don’t know why my cock throbs when she groans, clearly half asleep, when she answers.

“Hello?”

I lick my lips. “Are you still looking for a job?”

“Hunter?” She yawns and pauses, then says, “It’s three in the morning…”

“I asked you a question, Eden.”

“Um… Yeah, I’m still looking for a job. Why?”

A part of me is tempted to hang up, but I reason with myself. There’s nothing wrong with offering Eden a job she clearly needs. I can control myself —shove those untamed, wild thoughts away because I’m a man with morals and a conscience. I need someone to be my personal assistant, and I’d rather not sit through another round of insufferable interviews. At least I know I can tolerate Eden. As long as I make our boundaries perfectly clear, it shouldn’t be a problem for her to work under me— I mean,forme.

“I’ll give you an advance on your salary, health benefits effective immediately, and two and a half weeks of paid vacation if you start first thing Monday.”

There’s a long, heavy pause.

I start to wonder if she’s fallen asleep on me, but then she answers, “I want three weeks of paid vacation plus dental. Oh! And a designated parking spot. Parking on the street outside the studio nearly cleaned me.”

I smirk. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Chapter 5

Tip #5: Baptism by fire is the fastest way to learn.

EDEN

Ilearn two important things on my first day:

People in show biz don’t have a modicum of patience,

Nobody is going to hold my hand while I learn the ropes.

I use the majority of my advance to buy myself work-appropriate attire. A comfortable pair of black flats in case Hunter has me running around, some black leggings that are easy to move in, a couple of black blouses that aren’t too stuffy but still seem becoming of the biggest names in Hollywood.

Huh. Maybe Idodress like a nun.

“You’re late,” Hunter says the second I step into his office.

I drag my forearm across my sweaty brow. It’s a crispy eighty degrees today. Maybe the black on black on black ensemble was a bad idea. “Sorry,” I murmur. “This place is a fortress. I tried asking for directions, but—”

“This is your work phone,” he says, cutting me off. He hands me the latest version of an iPhone, still in its box. “You’ll be handling sensitive information from here on out. There will be no personal calls or texts on this device, do you understand?”

I nod, barely enough time to even look at him. He’s dressed more formally today in a navy-blue suit, white button-up shirt, and black leather shoes. Much to my dismay, he’s wearing a black tie tightened at the collar, hiding his neck tattoo. Hunter stands with his chest proud, shoulders back —every bit hard and cold and businesslike.

A stark contrast to the man I once knew.

“Your desk is over there,” he says, not bothering to look up. He’s rummaging around, looking for something.


Tags: K.C. Crowne Romance