I turn around in confusion before I spot Mary. “Mary!” I wave her over. “What's going on?” I gesture to the empty space where my desk should be.
“Oh, did he not tell you? He had your desk moved into his office,” she chirps happily. “In all my time working here, he's never had a secretary's desk moved into his office. He said he wants to work more intimately with you. You must be doing a great job!”
She gives me a thumbs up, and I smile back at her weakly while internally I’m fuming. “Yeah, but how am I supposed to get in to my desk if I come in early like this and he's not here?” I point out.
“Oh, he's here already.” She motions to the door.
“Great!” My voice sounds fake as I smile at her before I turn and march my way over to the door, ready to give this overbearing asshole a piece of my mind.
“Good morning, Sharon,” Charlie stands and tells me jovially as I storm into what is apparently now “our” office. “I do wish you'd let me pick you up and bring you to work. I know you left early to avoid me, and yet you still got here later than I did.”
I grit my teeth together when he tsks at me in that infuriating way of his, “Nobody knows all the city's secret routes like I do.”
I ignore his entire monologue.
“What the hell is this?” I gesture toward where he's got my desk set up on one side of the room facing his.
“Your desk,” he deadpans.
“I know that. What is it doing in here?” I speak from between clenched teeth. “We had a deal. You agreed to leave me alone after last night.”
“Yes,” he admits. “I agreed to leave you alone, and I did—last night. You never specified how long I had to leave you alone.”
I’ve never felt the rage I feel looking at him right now.
“Also,” he says slowly as he stalks over toward me, “as well thought out as your proposal was yesterday, I decided that it would be much more conducive to my process to have my secretary within speaking distance rather than having to call her or email her every time I need something. You aremypersonal secretary, Sharon,” he points out as he comes to a stop right in front of me. “It's imperative that we're able to communicate quickly because we’re going to be working very, very,” he closes the rest of the distance between us before putting a hand on the small of my back and pressing me flush against him, “veryclosely together.”
I flatten my hands on his chest and push, but he only tightens his hold around my waist. “Just because you're my boss doesn't mean that you can make advances on me like this and push me around.”
He leans down and breathes in deeply against my ear. “Did you know you smell so sweet? Like vanilla or some shit? I don't know, but it's my new favorite scent.”
His voice is husky and full of desire, and my breath catches in my throat, my protest dying on my lips.
Damn him. It's hard to be a bitch to him when he says things like that.
“You've got to stop saying things like that to me,” I tell him, though my voice comes out shaky.
“Things like what?” he murmurs against my ear, sending another shiver down my spine.
“Things like you think something is going to happen between us. Becausenothingis going to happen,” I tell him firmly.
“But, kitten, something has already happened between us. Something happened between us the first time your eyes met mine.”
He surprises me when he leaves it at that and drops his hands from my waist.
I take a step back and stare at him warily. He’s got my emotions all in a whirlwind. I feel his eyes on me as I smooth my dress down and try to collect myself.
I've got to get away from him and get some fresh air to clear my head. As if my job wasn't already hard enough, he’s just made it a thousand times harder. How am I going to work in this office with him saying shit like this to me? With him looking at me like that?
But isn't this all part of starting off in your career? Doing a bunch of shit you don't want to do and getting through uncomfortable situations? Once I rise up in the company and take his damn job, I'll be the one giving new orders.
That thought bolsters me and gives me the strength I need to get through this.
“If you'll excuse me,” I tell him, “I've got to run to the copy room and pick up some forms Mary was supposed to print off for me yesterday.”
“Of course,” he gives me permission to go.
I grit my teeth together but try to keep from scowling at him. I hate that I need permission from him to do anything.