Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
ROMAN
A t three p.m. on the dot—exactly when I told Chloe I wanted to go through my schedule for the rest of the week—there’s a knock on my door.
“Come in.”
Intentionally or not, I haven’t had much contact with her today. Apart from running into her outside my office, that is.
When I pulled her against me.
The move wasn’t deliberate, but the feel of her curves is stuck in my head, nonetheless. Along with her scent. Fuck. I did not need to know that she smells like a combination of vanilla and honey.
Thankfully, my late lunch with Cole and Tate was the distraction I needed. After their unwelcome curiosity this morning, I’d braced myself for an inquisition at the restaurant, but neither brought it up. Though I’m sure if I’d lingered, they would have worked their way around to it. They both enjoy attempting to rile me up a little too much for my liking. But as usual, I didn’t stick around once I’d finished my meal.
More and more, I’ve been enjoying my brothers’ company. The three of us are closer now than we have been since we were kids. Despite the scandal of Dad’s arrest, it’s what drew us back together. Lately, though, both have shifted their focus. They’re just as likely to talk about their women and the imminent arrival of Cole’s daughter as they are to talk business. Those aren’t topics I have much interest in, and I have nothing to contribute, so, over their protests, I left them to it.
Right now, though, my focus is on Chloe as she steps into my office, her gaze immediately finding me at my desk. “Good afternoon, Mr. King.”
It’s impossible to ignore how attractive she is. My fingers twitch as, for a split second, my imagination runs wild, and I picture what it would be like to tangle them in her hair and tug just enough to make her lips part on a gasp.
Heat flashes up my spine as the image invades my mind, sending a heady rush of arousal through my veins. Curling my hands into fists, I slam that mental door shut.
“Sit down, Miss Callahan,” I say, my tone a little too harsh.
Without hesitation, and without looking even the slightest bit nervous, she sinks gracefully into the chair on the other side of my desk and balances her tablet on her knees. Either she’s unusually composed or better at hiding her nerves than most.
She squares her shoulders, as if she’s preparing to meet any challenge I might throw at her. She’s confident, I’ll give her that—far more than I’d expect from someone her age. Twenty-four. Almost fifteen years younger than me.
Not that the difference in our ages has a bearing on anything.
“I’ve had a look at your schedule for the upcoming week, and I have some suggestions,” she starts. “Would you like me to run through them with you now, or is there something else you’d like to discuss first?”
I incline my head. “You can start with the schedule.”
Nodding, she pushes her moonlit-blond hair behind her ear, revealing the slender column of her throat.
“You have back-to-back meetings tomorrow morning. I propose moving your call with the Tokyo office to Wednesday when you have more flexibility—some, anyway.”
Her eyes meet mine briefly before she quickly looks back at her screen. The first sign of nervousness I’ve seen from her since she came in. I can’t stop the corners of my mouth from quirking.
“You have a board meeting Thursday morning, so I’ve penciled in a prep session for Wednesday afternoon. I’ve also spoken to Sophie about moving the marketing presentation with Tate to Friday. She confirmed that the change won’t impact their timeline, and it means you can attend without being rushed to leave for other engagements.”
She glances up at me again, this time for longer, as if waiting for acknowledgment. I nod and leave it at that. When she realizes that’s all she’ll get from me, she wets her lips and looks down again, the faintest pink hue tinting the apples of her cheeks. Fuck if I know why, but I like that she’s not as composed as she’s trying to appear.
“Uh… as you requested, I organized a planning session with David for tomorrow afternoon. His schedule is flexible if that time doesn’t work for you.”
This time I grunt my response, my eyes narrowing. Did he flirt with her? Knowing him, I wouldn’t be surprised. The thought grates on my nerves, though I can’t say why.
“And finally,” she continues. “I confirmed your RSVP for the charity event on Friday evening. I’ve blocked out an hour that afternoon so you can prepare or unwind before the event.” Those pretty ocean eyes meet mine again. “If you’re happy with the suggested changes, I can go ahead and confirm.”
Holding her gaze, I rub my lower lip with my thumb. She’s done a good job. Considering I’ve given her barely any information to work with, it’s impressive. Her suggestions are similar to what I might have expected from Lena, except for one thing.
“That’s fine, Miss Callahan. But unblock Friday afternoon. I have better things to do than waste time unwinding. It’s business, not a party, whatever anyone else may think.”
She blinks. “Okay. I just thought since your week is so busy, you could use some time to?—”
“If I want some time to relax, I’ll tell you.”
She presses her lips together, likely annoyed by my brusque words. I don’t bother to apologize. If she has a problem with my tone, then this is not the right job for her. Better she finds that out now when she still has time to back out.
“Of course, Mr. King.” Her smile is tight around the edges.
“Anything else?”
She looks back at her screen, and for just a moment, not having her eyes on me feels… noticeable. Like a fleeting shadow when the sun dips behind a cloud.
“You had a lunch meeting with Mr. Sato from Sakamoto Investments scheduled for Tuesday next week, but he has to take a later flight and can’t make that time any longer. He’s requested a dinner meeting instead.”
I suppress a frown. I don’t enjoy dinner meetings, though I suppose lunch meetings aren’t much better. Dad thrived on the socializing aspects of the business—the expensive alcohol, the expensive women.
Meetings like that are less about legitimate deals and more about quid pro quo. I’d much rather sit across a boardroom table and hammer out an agreement without the pretense of enjoying the company of other rich, egotistical assholes.
But in this line of work, there’s no choice.
“Fine. Make an appointment at Magnolia’s for seven p.m. Make sure it’s a quiet table away from the main dining area.”
She taps at the tablet. “Yes, sir. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“That’s all for now.”
As she stands, I force my focus to stay on her face rather than drift over her. It takes more effort than it should.
She takes one step toward the door, then stops and turns. “Mr. King?”
I lean back in my chair, brows lifting.
Her tongue darts out and wets her lips, but her eyes are fixed on mine. “Have you had a chance to consider your position on whether I can do this job to your satisfaction?”
I take my time formulating my reply. I can’t deny that she’s done well. If she were anyone else, I’d be more than happy with how quickly she’s picked up on my priorities and requirements.
But that’s not the issue. Despite how competent she is, part of me still wants to tell her not to come back tomorrow. If Dad were sitting here, he wouldn’t hesitate to hire her. And the thought that I might be anything like him turns my stomach.
As if on cue, my brothers’ words from this morning come back to haunt me. If I let her go, she could end up working for someone just like my father. Plenty of men would take one look at her and make it their goal to see just how personal of an assistant she might be.
I can’t deny that I’m attracted to her. But I have more than enough willpower to ignore it. To treat her as any other employee, regardless of how pretty she is. Or how good she smells. Where Dad lacked control, I’ve made it my strength. By now, that difference should be clear to everyone.
She continues to watch me, shifting on her feet. Her expression betrays her again. Defiance blooms in her eyes, and her delicate jaw tightens. Planting a hand on her hip, she leans forward. “I’d like to think I’ve done a good job today, Mr. King. No, I know I did a good job. And with very little input from you, I might add. It isn’t fair of you to disregard my abilities because of my age. I might be younger than your other assistants, but Lena hired me for a reason. If you can’t see past the superficial and acknowledge that I can do this job well, then…” Huffing out a breath, she draws herself up. “Then that’s your loss.”
I shouldn’t like the way her feistiness bleeds through the calm, professional mask she’s worn most of the day. Calm and professional are two of the most important attributes I want in an assistant. And yet watching her real personality break through the veneer sends an unexpected jolt through my chest—a sensation I haven’t experienced in far too long.
I don’t let my reaction show, though. Instead, I straighten and steeple my fingers on my desk. “You can relax, Miss Callahan. You did a decent job today, and you can stay in the position.”
Her lips part. “I—I can?”
I nod, watching the emotions play across her face.
She finally lands on embarrassment, a flush spreading across the high arches of her cheekbones. After a deep breath, she says, “I apologize for my outburst. I was?—”
I raise my hand to stop her. “That’s fine. But I do expect you to remain professional at all times going forward. You’re representing the King Group now. You’re representing me. Please remember that.”
She slants her head, her mouth pursing for a moment before her expression smooths into that familiar professional mask. “Yes, of course, Mr. King.”
I run my tongue over my front teeth in an effort to conceal my amusement. “That will be all.”
She turns to leave, and I try like hell to make sure my eyes don’t drop to her ass as she walks away.
When her fingers touch the door handle, she pauses and turns. “Thank you,” she says, her tone threaded with a vulnerability that hints at something more than simple gratitude.
A spark of curiosity ignites as I study her. She’s shown me nothing but determination all day, yet suddenly, I’ve gotten another glimpse of a fragile side hidden beneath. What’s going on behind those pretty eyes?
It doesn’t matter. Internally, I reinforce my walls. Professional distance dictates no crossing personal lines. Any curiosity I have about my new assistant will have to remain unsatisfied.
I give a brief nod, then watch as she slips out the door. Once she’s gone, I roll my heavy silver pen between my fingers, allowing myself one more moment to question my decision. Then I put any lingering doubt out of my mind.
Controlling myself around beautiful women has never been difficult. Why would that change now? I won’t be tempted to screw her like Dad would, and unlike my brothers, I definitely won’t fall in love.
Satisfied that I’ve made the right call, I focus on my computer and return to work.