by Katy Kaylee
“It’s your second week of work!” Helga from HR cheered. “Congratulations, you’ve made it farther than twenty percent of Mr. Fitzgerald’s assistants!”
I blinked at her dully. “How many get through this week?”
She paled at that. “Um, about thirty.”
I nodded, hurrying past them to the meeting room that I was still setting up. “We can celebrate when I make it through that then.”
I felt kind of bad for breezing past them, but I had work to do. And I certainly wasn’t going to make it if I paused in my duties to party like I’d earned something. I hadn’t really earned anything; I was just doing my job. No need for pomp and circumstance there.
Besides, I didn’t want anybody thinking that they could get too chummy with me. I enjoyed my privacy. Hard work had gotten me this far whereas intrapersonal relationships had just taught me from a young age that trusting someone was a bad idea. It would be better off if they just let me go about the day and do my incredibly hectic job.
By the time I finished setting up the food, the chairs, the projector and turning the heated coffee carafes on, there was still a half hour left before things were due to start. Just enough time to check in with Mr. Fitzgerald, who still hadn’t told me exactly what he wanted me to do for the rest of the day.
I had assumed that maybe it was a Monday thing, and that he would have instructions for me after his meeting -which was scheduled to be several hours. But, if he didn’t want me present for it, I could certainly get ahead on a lot of other tasks.
So, I found myself doing something I hadn’t had to do in my previous week of working there, and that was returning to his office for more instructions.
I allowed myself the comfort of wringing my hands while I was in the empty confines of the elevator. Truth be told, I was much more comfortable with the endless running back and forth and fetch quests than spending any time face to face with Mr. Fitzgerald. That seemed to be where most of the previous assistant had made a mistake. The term out of sight, out of mind definitely was a principle to live off of for the job.
But I couldn’t just sit there with my thumb up my butt, waiting for him to get out of the meeting and then find out that I was supposed to take notes or prepare gift baskets for people or, I didn’t know, find a damn unicorn or something. So, seeing him in person was the most uncomfortable, but ultimately most practical decision.
Once the elevator doors began to open, I straightened my posture and put my practical face back on. It had certainly gotten plenty of exercise the past week and I was sure there was a lot more in store for it.
I strode past the two secretaries who didn’t even look up from their desks and rapped twice on the frosted glass door of his office. The futuristic, stylish looking blinds were all closed, letting me wonder for a minute if he was up to some sort of crazy, billionaire antics.
“Come in!”
Ah, maybe not so crazy then, when I entered, he was leaning against his desk, looking over several sheets of paper. He glanced up and looked me over, looking irritated that I was even there.
“You need something?” he asked, one of his eyebrows raising to his hairline.
“Yes, your meeting that’s coming up, with the other corporate folks-”
“What about it?”
I withheld a grimace at being interrupted. “It’s all set up and ready, but I don’t have anything in my notes for what you need me to do during.” I felt like an idiot asking, like I was supposed to know, but I forced myself to keep my same, straight face.
“Ah right,” he said with a nod, alleviating my worry. “I had assumed that you would have quit by now, so I didn’t plan for you being present.”
“Oh,” not exactly the most brilliant response, but I didn’t know what else I was supposed to say. “Well… I am here.”
“I see that,” he said, and his eyes did that roving thing where they looked over me like he was trying to pick out all of my greatest weaknesses. “Think you can handle taking notes around pointing out all the obvious, or does that take up most of your mental faculties?”
I could take quite a bit of orders, and constructive criticism, but this wasn’t that. He was being snarky at me, condescending even, and before I could stop myself, my mouth was opening, and words were coming out.
“I am perfectly capable of taking adequate notes for the meeting without being distracted by my own presence. But considering that you had to hire someone to do the task for you, perhaps the skill isn’t as easy as we both believed.”
It was like time stood still for a moment, hovering in the air between us. I held my breath, cursing myself internally from head to toe. This wasn’t how I wanted to lose my job and be included in the very long, long line of ex-assistants.
Then it suddenly snapped back into place and Mr. Fitzgerald’s head turned towards me. It took every single bit of will power I had to keep my face a professional mask, looking up at him like I had just asked for the time rather than shot him a fairly unfunny comeback.
“Are you implying that I’m stupid, or that I find you distracting?”
I couldn’t be certain, but there was something in his tone that sounded almost…amused? Surprised? I didn’t know him well enough to put my finger on it, but it didn’t sound like the pure, unadulterated rage I had expected.
His eyes stayed on me, looking right through me again, and I realized that he was still waiting for an answer. Well, he could keep on waiting, because I was going to be certain my voice was steady whenever I opened my mouth again.
“Well, Ms. Viello?”
I swallowed as subtly as I could before repeating what I had said to him the very first day we met. “I’m not paid to have opinions, sir.”
“I see.” And then the moment -whatever that moment had been- was gone and the man straightened up. Goodness, he was so tall. Was it really necessary for him to be so tall? It seemed like humans should be cut off after the six-foot mark. It really wasn’t fair for them to go above and beyond that.
“Opinion or not, if you’ve had time to work on your witty repertoire, then I’m sure you’ve had time to finish all of your work.”
Ah, I knew that tone. I had heard it from plenty of teachers or foster mothers who thought they caught me slacking off. He was looking down at me, that condescending sort of look on his face that I could tell was leading into a scolding.
Boy was he in for something.
I looked up to him with a smile. “Actually, all of your non-essential emails have been sorted and flagged into the categories you wished for. Your spreadsheets have all been appropriately relabeled and uploaded to the servers. I’ve made all of your calls, answered all of your voicemails you needed, and the urgent ones are waiting with corresponding notes in the software system that I was taught to use last week.” Another breath. “Your dry cleaning from Friday is hanging in your closet -I put it there during your walk about with your CFO, and your dry cleaning for this week has already been dropped off. As I mentioned earlier, the meeting room has been set up and I have all relevant files waiting for you there. Your necessary appointments have all been sent and I made sure you had a list of the optional appointment requests that aren’t on your automatic rejection list.”
“So, Mr. Fitzgerald, it seems that I had time for my witty repertoire after all.”
I couldn’t believe what I was saying. Sure, I’d been mouthy my whole life, with it getting me into as much trouble as it got me out of. But snarking to my boss of a massive media company was a lot different than being a smart aleck to a foster dad who got drunk a little too early a little too often.
I looked up at him, fearing the worst but refusing to let my face show it. If my own stupid temper was going to get me kicked out, I wasn’t going to let him know how I felt about it. My feelings were the only things that I had real ownership of my entire life, which was one of the reasons I liked to keep them so private. Sure, people called me tightly laced, stuck up, or prudish, but they never knew enough
to hurt me.
He held my stare for a long time, but I couldn’t read anything on his face before he spoke. “You know that list I gave you was for the whole week. Well, what I thought you’d last of it.”
“Good,” I said far more bravely than I felt. “Then we’re ahead of schedule. This will just give us more time to prepare for the coming corner.” He was still staring at me and I didn’t know if I wanted to run, or hide, or slug him in the face. “So, shall I head down to the meeting now, or might I have a break until then?”
He blinked at me and that’s when I figured it out. He was surprised! I had really managed to take him off guard. That was definitely something else. I wasn’t used to being able to shock a man who ran his own empire.
“You may have a break.”
“Thank you, Sir,” I said, tipping my head before walking out.
But as I did exit, I did so with squared shoulders. It was hard not to feel like the cat that got the canary, satisfaction running through my veins. Because I knew that I had been able to do what no one had in quite possibly a long, long while.
I’d gotten him off center. And business guys like that, whose entire lives depending on them being in control… well, it made me feel powerful. Like I was his equal instead of just some little underling that fetched his coffee and organized his life.
Still, I knew I was playing a dangerous game. With men like him, it was better to fly under the radar, yet I had just challenged him straight to his face.
I guess I just had to hope he didn’t hold it against me.
Fitz
My new assistant was something else.
That was the thought that kept swirling through my head every day, almost every hour I was at work. We were at the start of our third week together and she was far and away the best assistant that I could have ever asked for.
No matter what I asked her to do, she did it promptly and efficiently. She never huffed, she never whined, apparently, she didn’t even complain to other workers. She just looked forward with those determined eyes of her and then boom, the task was done.
I knew that I was pushing her a bit harder than any other assistant, but it didn’t even seem to ruffle her. And I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I so desperately wanted to see her ruffled. To see that tense, impenetrable way she held herself crumble and break until whatever was hiding under it was revealed.
I guess I was too used to seeing through people, to having them posture or break in my presence. But with her… to her I just seemed like another stimuli that didn’t affect her day beyond setting her schedule.
“Sir, did you want me to organize these by date, price or client?”
Her voice, low and a bit raspy, like a jazz singer in some sort of smoky lounge, called my attention back to her. Not that it had strayed at all, but I had been forcing myself to stare at my computer instead of at her.
Because God, did she make a vision at the moment.
She was sitting on a small stool in front of my drafting table, receipts spread all across the flat surface. The circumference of her seat wasn’t anywhere big enough for her round, lush ass, so most of her was hanging off in that plaid pencil skirt she was wearing. I could easily imagine myself grabbing all that excess with both my hands, my fingers sinking into that sinful softness until there wasn’t anymore left. Leaving red marks, maybe a light bruise or two. Nothing to hurt, just little marks that were proof I had been there.
“Make a separate spreadsheet for each one then forward it to budgeting.”
In truth, I didn’t need her to all three. Any order would have sufficed. But the fact that she even thought to ask proved she was so much different than any of the other ones.
And if it kept her in my office a bit longer, then oh well.
That was another development as of late.
Her first week I had her running so ragged I normally only ever saw her at the beginning and end of each day. It wasn’t until her second week, when she had retorted back to me when I least expected it that I started to have her do chores that kept her around. If she noticed, she said nothing. But then again, she rarely said anything unless it was directly pertaining to the job.
“Yes, sir.”
Ah. And there was that again. Sir. It was just an honorific, sure. But not the way she said it. The way those full lips curled around the word should have been a sin. The first time she’d let it drop from her lips I’d been tempted to turn right there and press my mouth to those tempting lips before they could utter anything else.
But that wouldn’t be appropriate, and I hadn’t spent my life building up my own empire just to lose it to some nobody assistant. I was probably just hard up. I’d been so busy with the next phase of my plan for GSME that I hadn’t even had time for a one-night stand lately. And now… well, it just didn’t seem like that satisfying of an idea.
“Sir?”
Her voice again. She was speaking without being asked something, a rarity. For a moment my mind hoped that something wanton would tumble from her mouth, but instead it was just more questions.
“This receipt right here, it was for a steak house.”
“Yes?” I said flatly. I had learned not to question whenever she spoke out of turn. For having a voice that could convince Dionysus to go sober, she certainly kept her tongue pressed to her cheek.
“According to your log, this was for a creative team you were trying to woo. The Squib-Squad?”
“Yes. They’re a popular stunt-”
“I know who they are,” she said quickly, cutting me off. I raised my eyebrow at that, but she wasn’t facing me. I did see her shoulders raise, no doubt sensing that she had done wrong. I liked that about her. That she stuck so firmly to the rules that even such a little infraction like interrupting me made her feel like she had done something wrong.
If that had her tensing, what would bending her over my desk, telling her all the things I could do for her…
“One of their members is vegetarian, and the other is Indian. They talk a lot about their backgrounds in their behind the scenes video.”
I continued to stare at her a moment, distracted by that glorious ass. At my silence, she turned slowly, looking at me like she couldn’t understand what I wasn’t getting.
“Sir, you took a vegetarian and a practicing Hindu to a restaurant where the only thing they could eat was a side. Is it any wonder they declined any further communications?”
Oh.
My eyes went wide at that. How could my talent division have let that slip by? Sure, I picked out who I thought would be profitable to court and bring into our media empire, but they were the ones who were supposed to gather the intel and make the arrangements. Things like allergies, diet restrictions and religious choices were all supposed to be taken into consideration.
“I can’t believe you caught that,” I said, unable to think of anything else at the moment.
Because I really was gobsmacked. It happened so rarely, but this girl was just… something else.
She met my challenges like no one else. Challenges that I didn’t even know I was setting. All I had asked her to do was organize some receipts, so she could be eye candy in my presence and she was spotting one of the major disappointing losses we’d had last quarter. She was so… relentless.
I’d never met someone with a work ethic and drive to match mine. She was like a monolith, or a train that couldn’t be stopped. She just kept going, and going, smashing anything that dared to stand in her path.
And dear Lord, I wanted to conquer her.
I’d had women -and some men- fall over me my entire life. Sure, some employed different tactics like playing hard to get, or other games, but none of them had interested me beyond the occasional roll in the hay.
But this woman, she was something else entirely.
She was strength, and she was beautiful, and she so clearly didn’t seem to care about my existence at all. I wasn’t used to being ignored. To being treated like nothing more tha
n a check point for her next task, and it made me burn with the urge to make her notice me.
“I’m going to cross reference these with the files we have on acquisitions that didn’t go through,” she said, standing. “See if there are any other missed opportunities.”
But as she stood, her momentum caused a few of the receipts to gently lilt to the floor, like little autumn leaves covered in ink and bribery.
She let out the tiniest little huff, one I could barely hear, then bent over and snatched them up. But the sight of her doubled over, those perfect cheeks straining against the fabric of her bottom, had my body reacting viscerally.
I grabbed onto the armrest of my chair, my dick practically leaping to life as my eyes drank all of her in. So soft, so abundant. She was everything I loved about the feminine form but dialed up to eleven.
She stood, turning towards the door and I whipped my body back towards my computer. What the hell was wrong with me? She was just a peon -sure, a great peon, but a peon nonetheless. There were literally millions of women who didn’t work for me, so why was I allowing myself to practically pine over an assistant?
If she had any hint of my state, she didn’t indicate it. She simply crossed the room to grab her laptop from her bag that she had left on the coat hanger by the door. Despite her measured, practice steps, my peripheral vision didn’t miss the slight jiggle that passed along her thighs, middle and then breasts as she moved.
Suddenly it was all too much. Standing while her back was still turned, I strode to my private bathroom in a couple of easy strides.
“I’m craving Mexican for lunch,” I said safely from behind the door. “Go pick up my usual order then come back for the receipts.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be back shortly.”
Of course, she didn’t object that she had no idea what my usual order was. And I had no doubt that she would somehow find out. I just listened for the sound of her leaving then let out a long breath.