“Gah, I know. It’s like show us already,” I say in an irritated screech.
We both laugh and then the man holds his hand out. “My name is Linus and I’m obsessed with office supplies.”
Taking his hand in mine, I say, “Charlee, I’m borderline institute worthy over office supplies.”
“Charlee . . .” He looks up at the ceiling and then back at me. “Where do I know you from? Your voice is very familiar.”
“You know, now that I think about it, I don’t know many Linuses besides one.” I tap my chin. “Do you work for Bram Scott?”
“Yes.” Linus grips my hand tightly. “You’re Charlee Cox from Harold Danver’s office, aren’t you?”
“Yes. That’s me. Oh my gosh, it’s so nice to finally meet you in person.” We give each other a hug.
When I was working for Harold Danver before the merger, I worked closely with many assistants given our bosses were too busy to set up meetings. We’re the ones behind the scenes doing everything for them. We kind of have a secret phone club where we chit-chat, getting to know each other before we interrupt each other’s boss’s schedules that we’ve meticulously planned out.
Harold and Bram did a lot of business together, therefore I spoke to Linus quite often. When I was with Harold, I would say Linus was in my top three people to work with when it came to scheduling. He was always so efficient.
“This is amazing.” He frowns. “Ugh, I was so mad to hear about the merger, especially when I knew I wasn’t going to be talking to you anymore.”
“I know, but the severance package as the executive assistant was quite rewarding.”
“I’m sure. Mr. Danvers adored you.” He glances at the booth and says, “Want to go check it out together?”
“Of course, unless, are you here with anyone?”
“Do you really think there’s anyone else who would want to go to this with me?” Linus asks on a laugh.
“Same here.” I smile. “If that’s the case, want to be my date and take awkward pictures in front of some of the world’s greatest office supplies with me?”
“Sounds magical.” He winks and links my hand in his, guiding us toward the booth line. We take our place and he turns to me while we wait. “So, what have you been up to?”
“Nothing much. Kind of taking a break. You know how being an assistant can be. Crazy hours, hard work.”
“Yeah, but the benefits are worth it.”
“That’s if you get a good boss,” I point out. “Before Mr. Danvers, I worked for a witch of a lady. She was awful to me and at least once a week I would walk in on her with some flavor of the week, doing it on her desk. It got to the point where I think she was doing it on purpose.”
“She sounds like a treasure. Please tell me you stayed as far away from her desk as possible.”
“If I ever needed to touch it for some reason, I had hand sanitizer at my desk. If only I had sanitizer for my eyes, I wouldn’t have been as scarred as I was. Trust me when I say, I can never look at a meatball sandwich the same again.”
He cringes. “Do I even want to know?”
I shake my head. “You don’t.”
“Even though I’d never tell, I almost wish I had some freak story about Mr. Scott. But he’s as clean-cut as they come. Nothing that’s even worthy of gossip.”
“Not even with his fiancée? Not that I’m asking for details, but that’s surprising.”
“If there is, he’s not doing it in our office.”
“That is upsetting. Does he still get milkshakes to reward himself?”
Linus chuckles. “Yup. I had to cut him off for a while because whenever he got a milkshake, I was required to drink one with him and it was starting to show how many I was having.”
I chuckle. “Mr. Danvers brought me chocolate every Friday. I had to kindly insist I needed a break, because all my spare time was being spent in the gym when I’d rather have been practicing my hand lettering.”
“Are you still doing that?”
I nod. “Yeah, I’ve gotten into raunchy hand lettering.”
He laughs out loud, his head falling back. “What do you mean by raunchy?”
“Well, I started out with inspirational quotes, because that’s what all the books teach you. I like to write on blank cards and send them to people. Well, ‘Believe in Yourself’ was getting boring, so I took up more raunchy sayings. You know how ladies are now cross-stitching swear words? Consider that me, but with a calligraphy pen.”
“That’s amazing. Tell me one of your favorites.”
We move forward in line as I think about it. “Well, last night I made a sign for my bathroom, which reminds me I need to get a frame for it. It says, ‘Please don’t do coke in the bathroom.’”
Linus chuckles. “That’s a reasonable request.”
“I sent a card to my brother that said, ‘Don’t be a douche canoe.’ I drew a little canoe in the middle. He liked it a lot. There’s just something special about using pretty handwriting to say rotten things.”
“I think I might need to commission you to do something for me.”
“I did one for Mr. Danvers.”
“Seriously?” Linus’s eyes pop open. “What did it say?”
“Oh, it was boring. Something about house and home and love. I desperately wanted him to ask for something like ‘Home is where no pants is.’ I think his wife might have had a stroke though. She’s very prim and proper.”
“Such a wasted opportunity.” We move up again. So close. “Are you looking for work?”
I nod. “I told myself today I need to find a job soon because I’m living on money fumes. And my grandma, who is my absolute best friend, is starting to fret over my situation. Mr. Danvers gave me one hell of a recommendation with cards to his personal cell for employers to call him directly. I know I’ll be able to find a job, but I want to find the right one. Working with Mr. Danvers felt like a dream. He was so kind and appreciative. I want the same experience and given how much weight his name holds in New York City, I hope I can get a job sooner rather than later.”
“How do you feel about much sooner?” he asks.
Interested, I ask, “What do you mean?”
“Well, one of Mr. Scott’s best friends is in desperate need for an assistant, and he asked me to help him find someone to fill the position. He trusts me and since his last few assistants have been awful, he’s relying on me to find a gem.” Linus shakes his head. “Since I have to work with them often, and I mean . . . a lot, I’ve been looking far and wide for the perfect person for him because technically, his new assistant would be my co-worker.”
“It’s really been that bad?”
“Yeah. Really bad.” Linus cringes.
“Is he a tyrant?”
“No.” Linus shakes his head. “He’s really quite sweet. Always says he’s going to steal me away from Mr. Scott.”
“So why can’t he find someone who will stay?”
“He has high standards. He’s incredibly intelligent, works long hours, and needs someone who can keep up with him. He owns multiple companies with varied purposes, New York City commercial properties, a mortgage brokerage, and his baby, his foundation that supports underprivileged children. His pay is”—Linus blinks a few times—“phenomenal. Free health insurance, car service, optional apartment near the office if you want to move, gym membership, so many bonuses, and his retirement plan is unlike anything I’ve seen. Bram is always trying to match it for me, but instead, he apologizes with a key to his Hamptons house for the weekend, every time he realizes he falls short.”
I chuckle. “Well, I’m sure that makes up for it.”
“It does. Seriously though, if I were to work for anyone in the city, it would be for Bram Scott or Rath Westin.”
“Mr. Westin. Oh, I’ve scheduled a few meetings for Mr. Danvers with him before. He was always nice.”
“See?” Linus says as we take one more step forward, one couple away from the new planners. “He’
s a great guy and I know you would be amazing for him. What do you say? Can I introduce you?”
New planner.
Possible new job.
Looks like this day is turning out to be better than I expected.
“Feels like I bumped into the right person today.”
* * *
I wipe my eyes and take a deep breath. “I need to pull it together.”
“Yes . . . you do,” Linus says on a laugh.
“I’m sorry, but I was so nervous I wasn’t going to make it to the booth in time, and they were short on stock. I didn’t know we were going to get the whole new year package for free. I’m still in awe. I can’t believe they knew you.”
“Pretty sure Mr. Scott had something to do with this,” Linus says. “Because they’re taking money from other people.”
I look behind us and see them swiping cards. “Seriously? You think he called ahead?”
“Wouldn’t put it past him. He’s always doing little things like that to show me how much he appreciates me. Mr. Westin would do the same for the right assistant.”
“Wow.” I clutch the planner package full of new pages, stickers, and pens to my chest. “The more I think about it, the more I’m leaning toward yes. I think I took too much time off and now I’m at the point of borderline desperate.”
“No need to be desperate, I can—” Ding. Linus looks down at his Apple Watch and then smiles. “Guess who’s here?”
I pause and give it some thought just as my pulse skyrockets. “Oh my God, is it Mr. Erasable, the mascot for all whiteboard markers?”
Linus throws his head back and laughs. “No.” He shakes his head at me. “You need to get out more. Mr. Westin is here. He had a meeting and has finished. Mr. Scott told him I was here. He wants to say hi. I can introduce you.”
Mr. Westin is here? Why does that make me suddenly nervous?
“I don’t know.” I glance down at my casual wear. “I’m really not dressed to meet an employer.”
“Please, he’ll appreciate you’re here, dedicated to such things as office supplies. Shows how committed you are to our line of work.”
“Not just committed, but love it,” I say and then shift on my feet. “You don’t think he’ll mind?”
“Not at all. He’s by the café. I sent him a text that we’re on our way and that he needs to meet you. Let’s go. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Gahh . . . but . . . I’m not ready.
Linus takes my hand and weaves me through the crowd of people, toward the café, nerves blooming in the pit of my stomach from how quick this is all happening. I’m at the pinnacle of my happiness, surrounded by things like inkjet cartridges and the latest and greatest organizational holders for Keurig cups and even though I should be my most happy, I’m feeling very unprepared and oddly scared.
“Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” I say to Linus, trying to dig my feet into the floor. “I mean, I should really meet him in a more professional capacity.”
“Mr. Westin is really casual, the least uptight guy I know. Trust me, this will be fine.”
Fine for Linus, but this feels like a recipe for disaster for me.
“Oh, I spot him,” Linus says. “And look, he’s already grabbed drinks and treats for us.”
“You know, I really think we should give this more thought.” I try to pull my arm back, but he doesn’t let go.
“Stop it. You’ll love him. He’s the best, and I’m sure he’s excited to meet you.”
Oh, yup, these high-powered men are always “excited” to meet assistants. Now that I think about it, Linus might be high this very minute, and not high on office supplies like me.
I try to look around Linus’s tall frame, to catch a glimpse of Mr. Westin, but with his height and the crowds, I can’t see anything until we stop dead in our tracks at a table off in the corner, away from the crowd.
Linus pulls me up front and says, “Mr. Westin, it’s so great to see you.”
My eyes fall to the man in a tailored suit, crisp white shirt, top few buttons undone just enough so I can see a hint of muscle. His broad shoulders pull at the fabric of his suit jacket. Therefore, even though he’s a busy man, he still finds the time to go to the gym. My eyes travel north to his firm jaw, full lips, chiseled nose, and sharp, angry eyes.
Wait, angry . . .
Oh God.
I know this man.
He’s the man I argued with this morning.
The man I lied to.
The man I called a peon.
The man I . . . oh God . . . the man I called a turd nugget.
Chapter Two
RATH
Linus: Yes, I’d love to meet up. And guess what, I think I have your new hire with me. Act cool, but she’s perfect. Worked for Harold Danvers. Comes highly recommended.
While I waited for Linus and this prospective assistant to show up, I read his text over and over, excited over the prospect of having some help again. A temp has been running my schedule, and I’m two seconds from ringing the idiot’s neck.
It’s why I’m here, at this awful convention, because he thought it would be fun for me to check out the up-and-coming supplies right before I spoke with Gwendolyn Havershire. The meeting lasted ten minutes, because that’s all the moron scheduled. I basically shook her hand, gave her a card, and told her to email me directly.
Such a waste of a goddamn day.
Not to mention, I was verbally assaulted by an overeager office supply nut before I even stepped foot in the convention. I should have walked away when she asked me to take her picture, but because I’m a red-blooded male who saw a beautiful woman, I stopped. It wasn’t until she was waving her phone at me to take a picture that I realized what she wanted. I should have turned away the minute she started arguing with me, but hell, her long blonde locks and brilliant blue eyes grabbed my attention, and instead of walking away I stood there, outside of Office Supply Con, arguing with her as she spouted off insults at me.
It was entertaining. Especially when she stuck out her hand and naively introduced herself as Gwendolyn Havershire, the very person I was supposed to meet. Little did she know, Gwendolyn doesn’t hold a candle to the blonde beauty who was standing in front of me.
And then when she’d had enough and stormed off, I got a great view of her swaying ass as she made her way through the convention . . . map in hand.
If I wasn’t so terrified about her stabbing me in the neck with a retractable pen, I might have asked for her number. Might being the key word.
The only good part of this asinine outing is I get to see Linus, the one and only competent person I know with a possible new hire.
At least that’s what I thought until good old turd nugget, “Gwendolyn” steps forward. And from the panicked look in her eyes, I’m guessing she wasn’t expecting to see me.
This should be fun.
“Linus”—I take his hand in mine—“it’s nice to see you. Are you having a good time?”
“We are. We just got limited-edition planners from Daisy and Dot. You know how I like my organization.”
“I thrive off it,” I answer, glancing at “Gwen” who is doing everything in her power to avoid eye contact with me. Looking at the ceiling, the ground, the intricate red gingham pattern of the tablecloth. I take that moment to give her a full once-over. Dark wash skinny jeans, white tennis shoes, white T-shirt that frames her curvy body, a leather jacket wrapped around her waist, and a red, worn baseball cap on her head. It’s a cute outfit, not something to meet an employer in, but that’s not what’s stunning me right now. It’s her eyes hidden under red frames. Dark lashes flutter up, framing the brilliant blue of her irises and I realize right there, she’s too goddamn beautiful to be my assistant. Hiring her would be a huge mistake, I can feel it in my bones. That doesn’t mean I won’t have some fun though. “Take a seat. I got you and your friend a coffee and some mini cinnamon buns.”
“So thoughtful,” Linus says, taking a seat while hi
s friend stays standing.
“What are you doing? Sit.” Linus pulls on her hand, forcing her into her chair with a thunk. Laughing nervously, Linus says, “Mr. Westin, this is the girl I was telling you about. Meet Charlee Cox.”
“Charlee Cox, huh?” I ask, tilting my head to observe her. “You look more like a Gwendolyn to me.” I rub the side of my jaw.
“Heh.” She smiles, but it’s an odd one, not a normal smile you would expect from a gorgeous girl like her. It’s more like her bottom teeth are jutting out and the corners of her mouth are driving down and under her chin.
Not good.
Not good at all.
Gaining her composure, she folds her hands on the table and says, “About that—”
“Wait, do you know each other?” Linus asks, looking between us.
Eyes stilled on Charlee, I tap my finger on the table and say, “No, but we did have a run-in this morning. Charlee . . .”
“Cox,” she fills in for me. “Like multiple penises. A bag of penises. Cock, but plural. All the penises.” Her face blushes bright red as she clears her throat. “Cox with an x, not C-O-C-K-S. Not actual—”
“I get it,” I say as she nods and slowly starts to become one with her chair, trying to mold into the wood and disappear.
“Charlee Cox asked me to take a photo of her under the banner outside of the convention. We got into a small disagreement where she called me . . .” I tap my chin for a few seconds. “Aah yes, a peon turd nugget.”
“You what?” Linus asks, looking horrified.
Nervously smiling, her lips practically shake as she speaks. “Well, you see, technically”—she holds up her finger to make a point—“I called you a turd nugget and then a peon. They were separate insults.”
“That does not make it better,” Linus chastises. “Mr. Westin, I’m so sorry.”
I hold my hand up. “I’ve been called worse. But what I really enjoyed was her attempt to take on the persona of Gwendolyn Havershire and try to kick me out of the convention, even though I was late to my meeting with Mrs. Havershire as Charlee here was holding me back.”
Boss Man Bridegroom Page 2