by Marisa Logan
Gwen is in over her head. Mr. Steel is her cold, introverted boss who does little more than ignore her.
She's not looking for a man. She just wants to make her way in life on her own terms, as she's always done.
But sometimes life throws you a curve ball.
This is a 10,000 word, sweet, contemporary, second chance romance story with no cliffhanger.
Chapter 1
Mornings were never my thing. I hate forcing myself out of bed in the morning, rushing through my shower and makeup just to end up waiting in line at the bus stop. I especially hated it those first few mornings in Boston with the wet snow wreaking havoc on my hair and shoes.
I have uncontrollable hair, curly and tending to tangle, in a dingy blonde that most women lightened or at least dyed to a more flattering shade. I didn’t have the money or the time so most mornings after struggling with a dryer and brush, I pulled it back into a bun and left a few curls dangling around my face. I didn’t spend much time on my makeup, since my round, pale face and wide, dark blue eyes couldn’t handle much in the way of shadow or foundation. I never had anyone to teach me so I did what I could to make myself look human. I’m not much to look at, really, so I usually make due with what I have.
This morning I tossed on a faded black skirt, white blouse, and a jacket, along with my favorite leather boots I found in a bargain bin. Nothing ever seems to fit me well across the hips or breasts.
My curves are embarrassing. Grade school was murder; I developed way too young and spent most of my years hiding behind bulky sweaters and jeans. Thankfully, looks are not necessary for my job.
I landed a secretary job after several weeks of searching and running through my savings. I am a secretary to Dominic Steel, one of Boston’s hottest, most eligible billionaires. I have no idea how I got the job, or why my resume was chosen since I have no experience in business or administration. I’m just happy to be chosen. I have a steady income, a new chance in a new city, and my own shabby yet private apartment.
As I sat on the bus, riding down Main Street, I had a serious case of butterflies in my stomach. I’ve been at Steel International Trade for a week and Mr. Steel never stopped by at my desk. The girls said that he likes to keep to himself and his secretary usually contacts him through texts and emails.
Glancing down at my watch, I groaned. I woke up late this morning, of all mornings.
A few minutes later, I flew past the front desk, waving at Olivia as I rushed through the doors.
She waved back, giggling.
“Woke up late?” she said, her soft, friendly voice filling the lobby.
“Yes,” I sighed, “have you seen Mr. Steel today?”
Olivia shook her head, her straight, red hair wafting around her heart shaped face. She was beautiful in a way I would never be, small and petite but always friendly and willing to help whenever I asked.
“Mr. Steel usually stays at home the third Friday of every month. Personal time, I guess.”
Olivia shrugged, turning back to her stack of messages. She shuffled out a large stack and handed them to me.
“I’d take care of these first, Gwen,” she winked, smiling as I frowned.
“Great,” I murmured, tucking the messages into my bag.
After saying a quick bye for now, I took the elevator up to the top floor.
***
My desk, a smooth, white surface filled with only a computer, phone, and desk calendar, stood in a room surrounded with bright light and floor to ceiling windows. I felt exposed in this room, surrounded by the open air. The other offices were spread out among the floors beneath mine, so I rarely saw most of the girls, unless I had a question or request.
Mr. Steel’s office door sat locked, his office empty. Relieved, I sat down at my desk and glanced at computer screen.
Most of the office worked on electronic files only, since Mr. Steel preferred a paperless system. Olivia took pity on most of us that had a hard time with the new, online message system and wrote down our messages. I took the scraps home and tossed them away to keep the waste from being noticed. The last time I used paper forms Human Resources sent out an embarrassing email, calling me out for inappropriate printing.
Before I could answer any of the messages, my phone rang. I yanked on the headset and pressed the on button.
“This is Steel International Trade, Mr. Steel’s office. How can I help you?” I said tentatively.
“Gwen. I won’t be in today.” Mr. Steel’s gruff voice boomed through the speaker. I winced.
“Yes, sir.”
“Have those messages I left been answered?”
I winced again and scooted the messages across the desk, knocking some into the floor. Damn.
“Um, yes, sir. I’m working on it now.” I said, stretching my foot under the desk to drag the messages toward me.
“Please make sure that the newest files are forwarded to my account. Upload the documents for the Gilles Trade Agreement to from the system to my private account as soon as possible.” His accent sounded oddly flat. I’d had a hard time understanding him most of the week. Someone told me he spent most of his childhood shipped around the world, never settling in one place. That’s probably why I can’t understand him. I’ve never left the states.
“All right. I’ll have that done immediately,” I replied, leaning over to snatch up the papers.
“Good.”
“And sir, would you like me to cancel your--” Before I could finish, a loud click reverberated through the headset. I mashed the off button.
Mr. Steel always hung up without allowing me to ask any questions or even say a polite goodbye. Olivia told me during one of our shared lunches that he was known as a cold introvert that kept mostly to himself, despite his good looks and wealth. He should have women falling all over him but no one at the office had ever seen him on a date, and his last secretary left in tears after a mild, flirty comment cost her her job.
That wouldn’t be a problem for me. I had no time for men, particularly rude men. I had to take care of myself first.
Looking down at the pile of messages, I sighed again. Grabbing my reading glasses from my bag, I started to take notes on my computer.
Taking care of me meant taking care of this job, rude boss or not.
Chapter 2
By the time five o’clock in the evening rolled around, I had all of the messages filed, answered, and many of the miscellaneous tasks on my online to-do-list completed. Thankfully, it was Friday, which meant I had at least two days to relax and work on my apartment. Living among random boxes and sleeping on a mattress on the floor of my studio felt too much like college. Excited at the thought of flea market finds and bargain furniture, I logged off and made my way down to the lobby.
Olivia smiled and grabbed her coat and purse. She looked really cute today, in her purple wrap dress, black tights, and spike heeled boots. I wish I knew how to dress that way. Everything I picked out always looked dowdy or scandalous.
“Maybe I should take you up on your offer to go shopping,” I said suddenly, surprising both of us.
“Seriously?” Olivia jumped up and down.
I nodded, pulling my bag up on my shoulder.
“I would love that,” she squealed,”I can’t tell you how amazing you would look if you let some of those curves show. I have the perfect place in mind.”
“As long as it's not too expensive..”
Olivia continued gabbing on about colors, textures. As she eyed my hair in what looked like a predator stalking prey, I glanced down into my bag in time to see my phone screen flash.
“Wait,” I said as Olivia reached for the doors, “I’ve got a message from my to-do list.”
“Oh, yeah, that thing. It’s probably updated for Monday tasks already,” Olivia groaned, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think they wanted us to work overtime everyday.”
“Let me check.”
I pulled my phone out, unlocked the screen, and clicked on the St
eel International Trade app for employees. A red item popped up and my eyes bulged.
“Olivia...I think I screwed up,” I said, nervously backing towards the elevator.
“What happened?” she asked, concerned.
“I forgot to upload the Gilles Trade Agreement for Mr. Steel’s meeting this evening.”
Olivia paled. I felt my heart rise into my throat.
The last six months before I was hired, Steel International Trade had spent hours and hours of manpower working on the Gilles deal. If Mr. Steel didn’t have the final contract for his meeting at ten o’clock, Gilles may back out or drag out the negotiations for another six months, costing the company hundreds of thousands of dollars.
“He’s going to fire me,” I said, tears appearing in the corner of my eyes. Olivia pulled a tissue from her large designer bag.
“It’s your first week. I don’t think he's ever fired someone during their trial period,” Olivia said soothingly, “If we go upstairs and send the documents immediately, there shouldn’t be a problem. Mr. Steel may be upset but he won’t fire you.”
She grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the elevator.
***
Upstairs, Olivia booted up my computer and waited for me to put in my passwords. Afterwards, she quickly found the right documents for Gilles and began uploading them to Mr. Steel’s account.
“Thank you, Olivia. I have no idea how to do any of these things,” I said, “I was an English major in college. We spent most of the time in dusty stacks of books, not on computers.”
Olivia laughed.
“The only reason I know any of this is because I was a design major.”
A sudden beep from the computer startled us both.
“What does that mean?” I pointed to the message that popped up.
“It’s no good, Gwen. The files won’t upload,” Olivia clicked past the message and sent a command to the printer.
“What now?”
“I’ve got an idea.” she said, standing up and waltzing over to the printer. She snatched up the papers, tucked them into a file and handed them to me.
“Just take those over to his home. He’ll appreciate the initiative. I can find his address for you on the app.”
“I can’t do that!” I yelped.
“Don’t freak out. We’ve had to drop stuff off at his home before. Just ring the bell and leave it with whoever answers. Usually his assistant is there.” Olivia continued, grabbing our bags, “I’ll grab some petty cash for a cab and you’ll be all set. You can meet me later for a bite after you’re done.”
I glanced down at the file, then at my watch. I had thirty minutes to get the files there before his meeting started. Olivia was right, it couldn’t hurt, right?
***
“He’s having the meeting at his home?” I asked as we rode the elevator back down to the library. The doors opened, interrupting her response.
Olivia and I scurried to the doors. She waved down a cab before answering.
“He is tonight. I don’t know exactly why. Just drop off the files and stay out of site. He hates anyone from the company going into his home. If you do get a peek, let me know. I’ve heard his mansion is incredible,” Olivia said, slamming the cab door. I rolled down the window of the cab door.
“Mansion?”
“You’ll be fine!” she called as the cab pulled away.
Fifteen minutes later, I pulled up at Mr. Steel’s mansion. After paying the cab driver, I stepped out onto the curb.
A sign at the gate declared the home to be Quartz Manor. The high metal filigree gates stood open to the cobblestone walkways. I cautiously walked past them into a garden of tulips and trees, all covered with a thin coat of snow. The wide wooden steps leaning onto the front porch creaked beneath my feet. I reached the doorway, the lights inside the mansion dim.
Nervous, I pushed the doorbell and waited.
As I waited for someone to come to the door, I glanced through the glass windows. The rooms inside were dark and fairly empty. I didn’t see much furniture and most of what I was able to see looked art deco in an uncomfortable way. I am more of a comfort girl, big plush blankets and pillows, warm colors and candles. The entire manor felt cold and unapproachable, much like Mr. Steel.
I waited a few more minutes, the folder slick in my hand. I played with my hair, pulling it back from my face. I hit the bell again and listened carefully. Maybe it didn’t work. As I knocked on the door, it swung softly open. I ducked my head through and glanced around. I could see light upstairs so I slipped through and silently searched for somewhere leave the folder. I shook my head.
That wouldn’t work. What if he didn’t notice I'd left it for him downstairs. I couldn’t call him. That would mean I had to explain everything. I crept up the staircase towards the light. I would knock on the door, hand it to him and race outside. I could hear soft voices the closer I got to the lit doorway; the door was open, bright, white light flooding the small hallway. Reaching it, I tapped on the door frame and look in.
Mr. Steel, his jeans riding low on his hips, his shirt draped across the end of the bed, paced in front of room. I blushed and looked down at my feet as he stopped, his eyes burning into me.
“What?” He asked gruffly.
I handed him the folder with the Gilles Trade Agreement and turned to leave.
I could hear him sigh behind me as he flipped through the papers. A shuffling noise from the bed itself startled me and I turned back around.
“So, who's this, Dominic?” A young woman, around my age, slipped off the bed to her feet. She wore a tight, bright red skirt, black blouse and stiletto heels. Her long black hair swished as she walked. The dominatrix, in my opinion, drew a protective arm around Mr. Steel’s waist.
“It’s a secretary from work.”
He frowned at the papers in his hand and waved at me. I stepped back, hesitant. She still stared at me, her eyes taking in my worn clothes and the glasses tangled in my hair.
“How rude, sweetie. Introduce us,” she patted him on the arm while reaching a slender hand out towards me. I placed my hand in hers, which was completely limp. I shook it lightly and let it go to drop back at her side. She smirked.
“Gwen, this is Stefanie Gilles. Stefanie, this is my secretary,” he said, his eyes still on the paper.
“Gwen...well, it’s nice to meet you,” she said, “Dominic’s never mentioned you.”
I winced.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
She laughed. Taking the papers from Mr. Steel’s hands, she smiled at me, her eyes gleaming.
“We can work on this later. It was so nice of you, Gwen, to come all the way down here on your way home. Right, Dominic?” She asked.
He nodded and pointed towards the door, his eyes trained on her hands as they shifted through the paperwork. She had lovely hands and nails, freshly polished and soft. I hid my ragged ones in my skirt’s folds. Nodding back, I inched through the doorway, drawing the door behind me.
I could hear Stefanie’s laughter as I raced down the stairs. Fumbling through the front door, I slammed it behind me as I rushed through the snow to the street. I turned left blindly, following the streetlights into the city.
Chapter 3
My phone rumbled in my pocket and I pulled it out. Olivia’s name flashed on the screen.
I answered, my voice shaky.
“I’m on my way.”
“Did you drop it off? What took you so long?”
The noise wherever she was drowned out my sighing. I wasn’t sure I should even tell her what happened.
“I had to give it to Mr. Steel in person. No one else was there.”
“Oh,” Olivia’s silence made me cringe inside. I definitely hadn’t avoided Mr. Steel.
“Well,” she continued, “he has the paperwork now so you’re fine. Grab a cab and meet me downtown. I'm at the Magnolias Bar. We can grab some food and relax, plan your makeover.”
“Makeover,” I chuckled, “I�
��m not making enough for a complete overhaul.”
“Don’t worry. I have my ways. Now hurry up. I’ve got some guys eyeing the table and if you aren’t here soon I’ll be charmed out of it.”
I rang off and flagged a cab.
As I slipped into the back, I felt my shoulder muscles finally relax. I didn’t need to worry about Stefanie Gilles or Mr. Steel. It was like I didn’t exist for the most part. I’d just keep my head down for a few weeks.
***
I found Olivia at a table in the front, people watching. She beamed as I walked in and sat beside her. Two glasses of water sat on the table, along with some cheese fries. The smell made me swoon but I carefully avoided them. Any more weight and I might not fit into my clothes. I had enough curves as it was.
I sipped the water as Olivia chattered on about work and the guys across the room watching her as she gracefully inhaled half of the fries. She offered them to me but I refused. I ordered a salad from the waiter. Olivia’s eyebrows rose.
“You’re not on a diet, are you?”
“N-no. I just need something healthy, I guess.”
She scooted the fries closer to me.
“You don’t need to worry about your weight, Gwen,” her voice was soft and gentle.
I looked up from my salad. She nodded, her eyes gleaming.
“Take it from someone who knows how hard it is to worry about your weight. It’s better to be comfortable with who you are and not what everyone else wants you to be. Have a damn fry.”
I laughed, the mood lightening. I grabbed a fry and, dipping it into my ranch dressing, popped it into my mouth. I moaned playfully. Olivia burst into laughter.
“That’s right. No point in not enjoying your food. I used to measure everything down to the ounce. It made me thin, for sure, but I felt hungry all the time. I had bouts of depression and anxiety. I spent all my time thinking about food and how fat I was. I really wasn’t, I was maybe a twelve. You’re a fourteen, sixteen, right? That’s not large at all, and once I get my hands on you I'll make you see how fabulous you are.”
I smiled down at my food, hungry for the first time in a while.