Guarded King (Empty Kingdom #3)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

CHLOE

M y body sags as the door closes behind Roman, but a heartbeat later, panic kicks in. Why did I tell him I’d prove myself? I have no idea how I’m going to do that on my first day, especially when I’ve barely logged in to my computer.

“Um,” Sophie says, wide-eyed. “I’m so sorry about that. I don’t know why he…” She shakes her head. “What do you want to do now?”

With my lip caught between my teeth, I survey the space, hoping for some inspiration. Unfortunately, nothing jumps out at me. How the hell am I supposed to impress a man like Roman King? Because he’s right—I’ve never operated at his level before, and it’s unlikely the software and tools they use here are the same ones I used at Talon.

I turn to Sophie. “Can you help me?”

She nods rapidly. “Of course. What do you need?”

“Let’s start with the basics. Can you show me how the scheduling app works and where the project files are?”

The two of us round my desk, and once she’s shown me the applications I need, she walks me through what she knows of Lena’s system. While she explains, I jot down notes on a notepad I find in a drawer, creating a quick reference guide for myself.

Okay . My mind works overtime as I scan Roman’s calendar. It’s packed. Very packed. As I review it, a red-flagged meeting later this morning catches my attention. It looks like he’ll be briefing his executive team on a company called EcoTech.

“Where do I find the files related to this company?” I ask Sophie, pointing to the calendar entry.

“They should be in here.”

I follow her to a filing cabinet against the wall, where she flicks through several files before pulling one out and handing it to me.

I glance through it as I return to my desk. Dammit. The details don’t mean much to me, and I don’t have time to learn them all.

Still, a few things are familiar from my time at Talon.

“Where are the latest market reports?”

“They’re usually stored in the shared drive under the Analytics folder. Here.” Sophie points at the screen. As she pulls her hand away, she checks her watch. “I’m sorry to abandon you, but I have to get back to my desk. Is there anything else I can help with before I go?”

I paste on a smile, though what I really want to do is beg her to stay. “Thanks. I think I’ve got it. I’ll do the best I can and hope it’s enough.”

“I hope it is too. It’d be fun to have you around. If you have more questions, this is my extension.” She writes down a number on my notepad and pushes it across to me. “I can talk you through anything you need or duck back around and show you.”

With that, she turns and heads down the hall.

“Oh.” She stops and spins on her heel. “If you get some free time around lunch, come find me. I’ll take you down to the employee cafeteria.”

Despite my lingering panic, warmth spreads through me. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

With a renewed sense of determination, I get back to work, skimming through the EcoTech file. I search the desk, find a pad of sticky notes, and mark key information I think Roman might need for his meeting.

When I’m done, I explore the CRM software that tracks project statuses and stakeholder interactions. I take more notes as I compare the details with recent emails, spotting updates that haven’t been added to the file yet. Pushing away the doubts gnawing at me, I decide to brief him on those as a start.

With the meeting time approaching, I take a deep breath, grab the file and my new tablet and head to his office.

My knock is met with a terse “Come in.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. If I could put up with Leering Geoff for the last six months, I can put up with Grumpy Roman. If I’m lucky, that is. First, I have to make sure he doesn’t fire me.

I ease the door open and, with as much confidence as I can muster, walk into what turns out to be an enormous corner office, all dark wood and understated elegance, with floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides that frame a breathtaking cityscape worthy of one of Dad’s paintings.

For a moment, I’m distracted by the view, but I quickly snap my attention back to Roman. He’s leaning back in his chair behind an expansive wooden desk, tracking my approach with those intense gray eyes—eyes that make my heart beat a little faster.

It’s nerves, obviously. Because wow, Roman King is intimidating when he fixes his gaze on me like that. If I’m honest, he’s probably the most intimidating man I’ve ever met. My dad is the opposite. He’s kind, loving, a little absent sometimes—and somewhat cranky these days—but never intimidating. I respected Geoff Sr.; he was always fair to his employees. His son? I didn’t respect him at all. But neither of them was what I’d consider intimidating.

Roman, though, with his effortlessly commanding presence and the disconcerting way he’s watching me—as if he can see right through me while keeping every thought of his own hidden— he intimidates the hell out of me

There’s no way I’ll let him know that, though. Not after the comments he made earlier.

I clear my throat and offer a cool, professional smile. “Mr. King, I’ve prepared the file for this morning’s meeting. It includes key points on potential market impacts from the latest reports, as well as updates you might find relevant.”

He doesn’t make a move to reach for the file, so I thrust it toward him. Luckily, he takes it rather than leaving it dangling in midair. Not that I’d have put it past him.

As he flips through the pages, his expression unreadable, I do my best not to shuffle my feet and let on how nervous I am. Glancing at the leather chairs in front of his desk, I wish I’d thought to sit down before launching into my spiel.

Eventually, he drops the file on his desk and regards me steadily, rubbing his thumb slowly back and forth across his lower lip.

“Not bad, Miss Callahan.” Despite his measured tone, there’s a begrudging edge to his lukewarm praise.

I stifle a frustrated frown. What is his problem with me? I can understand if he was surprised by my age, but with three years’ experience and a solid reference from my last job, it shouldn’t matter. Regardless, I’m not going down without a fight. This job—and the much-needed salary that comes with it—is too good to give up on just because my boss has a chip on his shoulder.

“Is there anything else I can help you with before your meeting?” I keep my tone even.

He glances down to the file in front of him, then back up at me. “No. I’ll go over this in more detail beforehand.”

“Do you need me to sit in and take notes?”

His eyes narrow and he slants his head. Then he picks up his pen and taps it on the dark wood of his desk. “Yes. Print out a dozen copies of the most recent market report and make sure the conference room on this floor is ready to go.”

“Yes, sir.” Ridiculously pleased that he didn’t brush me off, I let a wider, more genuine smile slip past the professionally serene expression I’ve been maintaining.

In response, his stare sharpens, so I quickly rein in my enthusiasm, determined not to give him any ammunition to get rid of me. Based on what I’ve seen of him today, being overly cheerful probably isn’t on his list of ideal assistant qualities.

Lips pressed together, I nod, then turn and leave. As soon as the heavy door closes behind me, I rush to my desk and print out the report he requested. Then I head to the executive conference room that Sophie pointed out on our tour.

Finding a carafe of water and a dozen glasses have been left on the sideboard, I set them out on the table and place a report at each position. Then I hustle back to my desk so I can quickly reread the notes I’ve taken. I can’t imagine I’ll be asked any questions, but I want to be prepared just in case.

Ten minutes later, Roman’s door opens, and he strides out—without the file. Did he memorize everything he needed, or was what I provided not useful?

My stomach sinks, but I quickly shove aside the unhelpful thought and stand, brushing my palms over my skirt. Without stopping, he glances back at me over his shoulder. “Don’t forget your tablet.”

This time I do roll my eyes. He must really think I’m a novice if he’s giving me such basic instructions. Tablet in hand, I follow behind him. Unfortunately, from this perspective, it’s impossible not to notice the way his suit jacket stretches across his shoulders or how his dark hair curls just slightly at the back.

How soft would those strands feel between my fingers?

I give my head an abrupt shake to pull my mind back from where it’s wandered to, following it up with a mental wrist slap. That’s the first and last inappropriate thought about my boss I’ll let distract me.

The conference room is now full of serious-looking men and women seated around the table, most of them reviewing the report I laid out. Roman takes the chair at the head of the table, then gestures to an empty one just down from him.

I sit, politely returning the smile of the man next to me, then place my tablet on the table, ready to take notes.

Roman clears his throat, and immediately, all eyes are on him. His gaze sweeps the room, briefly resting on me. Another odd little shiver traces its way down my spine before he moves on, his expression as unreadable as ever.

“All right,” he says. “Let’s begin.”