From Boss to Boo

4. Grayson

4

As the weeks pass, I find myself increasingly reliant on Amara's professional skills and efficiency. Her ability to anticipate my needs and provide crucial support during high-stakes meetings and negotiations becomes invaluable to me.

One morning, as I'm preparing for a critical conference call with a potential investor, Amara knocks on my door, a file in her hand. "Mr. Winthrop, I've compiled the latest market research and financial projections for your call," she says, handing me the file. "I've also taken the liberty of highlighting the key points that might come up during the discussion."

I take the file, impressed by her proactivity and attention to detail. "Thank you, Amara. Your thoroughness is much appreciated."

As I dive into the call, I find myself referencing the information Amara provided, easily navigating the investor's questions and concerns. With her help, I'm able to secure a significant investment for the company, a major win that sets us up for future growth and success, which at the end of the day, is more money back in my pocket.

After the call, I lean back in my chair, feeling a sense of satisfaction and relief. I know that her support played a crucial role in the positive outcome, and I make a mental note to acknowledge her contributions. I have to have her.

I catch myself stealing glances at Amara as she works diligently at her desk. Her focus and dedication are admirable, and I find myself appreciating her presence in a way that goes beyond just her professional skills.

Like how she would work that body.

How’d she look with her clothes on my floor.

I quickly catch myself and redirect my focus back to the task at hand.

I remind myself that I'm her boss and that it's essential to maintain a professional distance, no matter how much I've come to rely on her.

I have so much power over her… the things I could make her do.

But I won’t.

I won’t cross that line.

As the days turn into weeks, I find myself seeking Amara's input more frequently, not just on business matters but on strategic decisions as well. Her unique perspective and sharp insights prove valuable, and I begin to see her as more than just an assistant – she's becoming a trusted advisor.

During a particularly challenging week, when a major project is at risk of falling behind schedule, Amara steps up and puts in extra hours to help get things back on track.

And son of a bitch, if her commitment and willingness to go above and beyond do not go unnoticed.

One evening, as we're both burning the midnight oil, the last two in the office, like usual. I walk over to her desk and express my gratitude. "Amara, I wanted to thank you for your hard work and dedication this week. Your efforts have been instrumental in keeping this project on course."

Amara looks up, a tired but genuine smile on her face. "Thank you, Mr. Winthrop. I'm just doing my part to ensure the company's success."

I nod, feeling a growing sense of respect and appreciation for her. "Well, your part is crucial, and I want you to know that you don’t go unnoticed."

“It feels good to be noticed, sir.” She says, eyes locked into mine.

Yet again and again, I remind myself that I need to maintain boundaries and not let my personal feelings interfere with our professional relationship.

I'm her boss, it’s her job to serve me.

And nothing else.

It's my responsibility to ensure that our interactions remain appropriate and focused on my multi-billion-dollar company's goals. Then why are my eyes glued to her lush lips, pouting a hue of fuchsia that matches the scarf around her neck?

"You know, Amara," I muse, leaning back in my chair, "I don't know what I'd do without you. You've become an essential part of this company, and of my own success."

Amara looks up, her eyes meeting mine with an intensity that takes my breath away. "I'm just doing my job, Mr. Winthrop. But I have to admit, working with you has been the most rewarding experience of my career."

For a moment, we simply stare at each other, the air between us charged with an undeniable electricity. I feel a sudden urge to touch her, to close the distance between us and explore the depths of this connection.

Looking at her amazing legs, crossed near me in a long black pencil skirt, my mind wanders. What would happen if I reached out, just now, and wrapped my hands around her exquisite knees?

But before I can act on those impulses, a sharp knock at the door jolts me back to reality. "Mr. Winthrop, the board is ready for you," my secretary announces, her voice muffled through the wood.

I clear my throat, standing up and straightening my tie. "Thank you, Amara," I say, my voice steady despite the racing of my heart. "Let's go show the board what we're made of."

As we make our way to the conference room, I can feel Amara's presence beside me, a steady and reassuring force in the face of the challenges ahead. I know that with her by my side, I can handle anything the board throws at me.

This is exactly what I’ve been looking for.

The meeting starts off smoothly, with me presenting the latest financial projections and market analysis. But as I delve deeper into the data, I can sense a growing unease among the board members, their brows furrowed and their questions becoming more pointed.

"Mr. Winthrop, these projections seem overly optimistic," one of the board members challenges, his voice dripping with skepticism. "How can you be sure that we'll be able to meet these targets in such a volatile market?"

I feel a flicker of doubt, my mind racing to formulate a response. But before I can speak, I feel a gentle touch on my arm. I glance down to see Amara sliding a piece of paper towards me, her eyes locked on mine with a reassuring intensity.

I glance down at the note, my heart skipping a beat as I read the words she's written. It's a brilliant counterargument, backed up by solid data and market trends that I hadn't even considered.

I look up, my eyes meeting Amara's with a silent thank you. Then I turn back to the board, my confidence restored.

"While I understand your concerns," I begin, my voice steady and assured, "I believe that these projections are not only achievable, but conservative given the current market trends. As you can see from the data on page 12..."

As I continue to present, I can feel the board's skepticism gradually giving way to grudging admiration. And through it all, Amara is there, a steady and supportive presence, anticipating my every need and providing me with the tools I need to succeed.

By the end of the meeting, I'm feeling a sense of triumph, knowing that we've secured the board's support for our latest initiatives. As the board members file out of the room, I turn to Amara, my voice filled with gratitude.

“You saved me back there,” I whisper under my breath. She answers me with a half chuckle, covering her face with a stack of papers. In so little time working together it’s like she knows what I know, without having to say a word.

As we make our way back to my office, I can't shake the feeling of connection that flows between us. Amara has become more than just an assistant to me - she's a true partner, someone I can rely on.

And yet, I know that I can't let myself get too close.

As much as I'm drawn to her strength, intelligence, and beauty, I know that crossing that line could jeopardize everything we've worked so hard to build.

Our biggest test is yet to come. We have an upcoming business trip and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to keep my hands to myself. We both want it, that much is clear. I have to be the boss here, even if it means being boss of my own urges.

Still, I can't help but wonder if some lines are meant to be crossed.

My gaze lingers on her as she works diligently at her desk, her brow dropped in concentration. The soft light from her desk lamp casts a warm glow on her face, highlighting her delicate features and the curve of her lips.

For a moment, I'm struck by the soft glow of the lamp on her desk. The way the light shines on her soft brown hair drives a wedge in my thoughts. I don't know if I can be the boss of my urges, not when she’s looking like that.

I quickly shake my head, pushing those thoughts aside. Just as I'm about to dive back into my work, my phone rings. It's my mother. She’s been especially insistent that I give my ex another shot.

I really don’t want to deal with her shit right now. Before I can answer her, a knock on my door startles me, and I look up to see Amara standing in the doorway. She already knows something’s under my skin.

"Mr. Winthrop, is everything alright?" she asks, her voice soft and gentle.

I hesitate for a moment, not wanting to burden her with my personal problems. But the genuine concern in her eyes and the weight of the news I've just received compel me to open up.

"It's nothing" I say, my voice strained. "Just family politics."

“Oh I already know how that goes, sir.” Amara's expression softens, and she takes a step closer to my desk. "Is there anything at all I can do to help?"

I quickly remind myself to maintain my professional boundaries. "Thank you, Amara, but I'll be fine," I say, straightening my posture and trying to regain my composure. "We need to focus on preparing for this business trip. It's crucial for the company."

Amara nods, understanding my need to focus on work. "Of course, sir. I'll make sure everything is in order for the trip."

We work late into the night, finalizing presentations and reviewing our itinerary. As the hours tick by, I find myself increasingly grateful for Amara's presence. Her steady focus and quiet support help keep me grounded, even as my mind is clouded with worry about my father.

At one point, our hands brush as we reach for the same document, and I feel a spark of electricity pass between us. I glance up, and for a moment, I'm lost in her eyes, a deep, soulful brown that seems to see right through me.

I quickly pull my hand away, clearing my throat and refocusing on the papers in front of me. I can't afford to let my guard down, not when there's so much at stake.

But as we continue to work, side by side, I can't shake the feeling that Amara is more than just an assistant to me. She's a source of strength and comfort, someone who understands me in a way that few others do.

And as much as I try to push those thoughts aside, to maintain the professional distance that I've always believed in, I can't help but wonder if there's something more between us, a connection that goes beyond the bounds of this office.

I think about going on the trip solo, but I always take my assistant.

So she will come with me. I’ll just have to be on my best behavior, that’s all.