Chapter 4
4
Faith stared up at the huge, imposing building standing in front of her. Stepping through the main doors, she saw that there was a busy café to her left and a welcome desk off to the right. She headed to the welcome desk.
After being set up with access to the building, she headed toward the elevator. According to the directory, Mr. Jones had level thirty all to himself.
God, she hated elevators. She had a fear of them suddenly plummeting to the ground.
Stepping out of the elevator, she shifted the Tupperware container she was holding into one hand so she could rub her lucky hair clip.
The container held her famous banana bread.
Everyone who’d tried it loved it.
She just hoped that Reuben Jones would fall into that category. It might soften him up at least.
Maybe he wasn’t as bad as he sounded.
After all, she didn’t mind grumpy men. There were plenty of grumpy men in her family.
It was when people got mean that she found herself struggling.
Glancing around, she saw there were passages to the left and right and a desk ahead. Several armchairs were placed strategically around the room to break up the big space.
There were no windows, and the room was a bit dark. The black and white tile floors really needed some rugs to soften them. The white walls were bare.
Some flowers could really warm the place up a bit.
She walked toward the desk. There was a door behind it and to the left. Did that lead to another office?
Asta hadn’t had a lot of information for her. Just an address and a time.
As Faith lifted her hand to knock, the door swung open and the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen in her life appeared.
He looked like he was a few years older than her. His dark hair had hints of gray, especially around his temples. Glancing up, she took in his stunning face as brown eyes glared down at her.
“Who are you?”
“I, um, hi, Mr. Jones. I’m Faith.” She held out her free hand.
He stared from her hand to her face. Wow. Talk about arrogant and self-confident.
He was . . . dark, dangerous, a tempting perfection.
And she didn’t even come close to ‘all right’ on a good day.
“Blossom.”
“Excuse me?” he drawled.
“I’m Faith Blossom.”
“That’s your name?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Urgh. Yes. I’m, uh, I’m your new assistant?” Shoot. She hadn’t meant to word that as a question.
“I don’t think so.” He glanced at his watch. Then he moved past her. “I need to go.”
“But . . . Winkleman Agency sent me. They said you knew I was coming.”
“I really thought they would have given up by now,” he muttered.
Huh?
What did that mean? Did he want them to stop sending him assistants?
That was . . . strange.
“Does anyone really take you seriously with that name?” he asked.
“Um. Yes. I think so?” She’d never thought about that before. She’d always been Faith Blossom from the Blossom family who owned Blossom Farm.
Okay, that sounded ridiculous, but no one had ever questioned her full name.
“You’re wearing a butterfly hair clip.” There was a look on his face that she couldn’t decipher.
Her hand rose to the clip in her hair. “It’s my lucky hair clip. My grandma bought it for me. She loved butterflies and flowers. All of nature, really.”
“Lucky hair clip, of course. Now, I’m going.”
“But . . . should I come with you?” she asked as he locked the door behind him.
“Nope.”
“Is there anything you want me to do?” she asked.
“Leave.”
She sat on a chair in the waiting area as he disappeared into the elevator.
“Well. That went well.”
Reuben walked into the elevator and closed his eyes.
The employment agency that Cat contacted just kept sending him assistants. The others had been easy to send away. They’d all looked at him like he was a meal ticket.
Someone they could eat.
But Reuben Jones was always the predator never the prey.
However, they’d really sent someone to test him now. Faith Blossom? Seriously?
He’d almost thought it was a joke. A butterfly hair clip in her dark ringlet hair. Those big, pale blue eyes. That ridiculous dress with more flowers all over it.
No. Nope.
She was too much. A distraction. She looked . . . sweet.
Reuben couldn’t be near sweet things. He’d destroy them.
He was certain she’d be gone by the time he got back.
Walking out of the elevator, he pushed Faith Blossom out of his mind.
Reuben was frustrated.
For the last two months he’d been digging into Smith Childs’ life and the man seemed to be a saint. He volunteered at soup kitchens and gave to several charities.
There were no blemishes on his records, and it only made Reuben suspicious as fuck.
Stepping out of the elevator, he heaved an irritated sigh as he saw her sleeping in one of his armchairs.
He ignored the ping of excitement in his belly. He was not interested in this girl.
No.
Just walk past. Ignore her.
Except . . . she’d shown more tenacity than he’d expected.
And Cat had been upset with him after his last assistant quit.
He didn’t need a mad Cat on his hands. That’s when your shoes ended up filled with glitter, or you found laxatives in your coffee.
A bright orange, dented Tupperware sat on her lap. The canary yellow handbag by her feet had definitely seen better days.
She’d kicked off her shoes. For some reason, he found that cute.
No. She’s not cute.
She’s not yours.
Reuben was good at reading people. And Faith Blossom screamed of desperation and naivete. Someone who was out of place and out of her depth.
Yeah. She wasn’t going to last long.
He would be doing her a favor by sending her on her way immediately.
Cat would understand when he explained how unsuitable she was.
She’d fallen asleep on the job for God’s sake.
You told her to leave.
He sighed. Long and loud. Then he waited for her to wake up. She didn’t even flinch. What the hell? Why was she so tired? Was she ill?
“Ms. Blossom!” he said sternly.
As she stood up with a gasp, the Tupperware container flew into the air and smacked him right in the face.
“Fudge knuckles! Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry! Are you all right?” She moved closer to him, pressing her fingers over his nose. “It’s not bleeding or swollen. I don’t think it’s broken. I’m so sorry. But, really, it’s your own fault.”
“This is my fault?” He gaped down at her as his eyes stung. “How?”
“I’ll go get some ice or maybe cold water,” she muttered as she searched through her handbag. “I just need my handkerchief. Here it is!” She held out the frilliest, most ridiculous-looking handkerchief he’d ever seen. It had a lacy border and yellow daisies all over it.
“Wait right there!” She ran off to the bathroom as he stood there, staring after her in shock.
What the hell had just happened?
He ran his hand over his face, wincing as he brushed the skin where the container had hit him.
What did she have in that thing?
“No ice, but it’s cold.” She raced in and held the wet handkerchief up.
He stepped back, but she kept moving forward. Then he realized that he was basically retreating from a slip of a woman.
And he didn’t retreat from anyone. So, he stilled.
“Put that away,” he demanded.
“But . . . it will help.”
“Will it?” he countered.
She looked from the handkerchief to his nose. “Oh. Probably not, I guess. Do you have a cold pack in your first aid kit? You do have a first aid kit here, right?”
“I don’t know. That sounds like something my assistant should take care of.”
“Oh, yes. Where are they?”
He crossed his arms over his chest.
She gulped, turning her large, pale blue eyes back on him. Her dark ringlets were contained in a high ponytail, although they looked seconds away from breaking free.
Her skin was dotted with freckles over her nose, which most women he knew would have concealed under makeup. He thought it sweet that she didn’t . . . no, wait. He did not think anything about her was sweet.
The last thing he wanted in an assistant was sweet.
“Right. That’s me.” She pointed at herself.
“That was you. Until you fell asleep on the job and then whacked me with a container of lead.”
“A container of lead,” she muttered, looking confused. “I didn’t have . . . oh, wait! No! That’s my banana bread. I baked it for you.” She turned and ran over to where the container was still on the floor.
When she bent over, he did not look at her ass.
He. Did. Not.
There was no room in his life for this nutty, clumsy, sweet, adorable woman.
He’d once told Gwen that figuring out who was a submissive was his superpower.
And Faith Blossom had sub written all over her.
“I made it for you. It’s famous.” She held it up with a smile.
“It is?”
“Well, in Public, Missouri. Would you like some?”
Tell her no.
You’ll be helping her. She obviously needs some toughening up, or she won’t survive the city.
“No.”
Her face immediately dropped, and for some reason, he felt like a bastard.
Reuben sighed. What was it about this girl that made him feel protective?
Maybe she reminds you of Juliet? That was probably it. She might even be a Little.
Well, he just had to get over that. Because he didn’t need an assistant who couldn’t keep up with him. And he had a feeling that Ms. Blossom didn’t have the first clue about what she was doing.
None of the other assistants had suited him, but he was starting to think he should have kept one of them around.
Then he wouldn’t be left with Ms. Blossom. Tempting, sweet, Ms. Blossom. Someone had it out for him.
“Oh, right. Well. I guess more for me.” She attempted to smile at him.
“I meant I don’t want any right now,” he said gruffly.
What the hell?
Why did he go and say that?
“Oh good! Where shall I put it?” She swung the container around, and he grabbed hold of her wrist to still her.
As soon as he touched her, he let go. Fuck, he’d only touched her wrist and he was getting hard.
What was wrong with him?
She stared up at him in shock.
“Careful with that thing. I don’t need a broken nose.”
“Right. Of course. Again, I’m so sorry. But really, it was your fault.”
“And how do you figure that?” He crossed his arms over his chest. Mostly because he found himself tempted to touch her again.
And that couldn’t happen.
Not with the way she affected him.
This girl is not for you. She is far too innocent and sweet.
“Because you gave me a fright. If you hadn’t done that, then I wouldn’t have let the container go; and it wouldn’t have flown through the air and smacked you in the nose.”
“You were asleep. I was trying to wake you up.”
“Oh.” She blushed. “Sorry, I didn’t sleep very well last night. I was worried about coming here this morning. I heard that you’re . . . ”
“You heard that I’m what?” he asked as she trailed off.
“Um, well, you know what? It doesn’t matter. Is there somewhere I can put this?”
“I ought to fire you for sleeping on the job.”
“Oh no, you can’t!” She stared up at him in dismay.
“Really? Why not?”
“Well, because you just left me here to sit and worry. So, I just nodded off.” She bit her lip. “You don’t have to pay me for today.”
Had she just negotiated herself out of a day’s pay? One that she obviously couldn’t afford to lose.
This woman was a walking disaster. Controlling her would be a nightmare.
So, tell her to leave.
Fuck. He just couldn’t. Not yet.
“Mess up again, and you’re fired,” he warned.
“Yes, sir.”
Damn it. He did not need her calling him sir.
And yet, you’re not telling her not to.
He was messed up. “Follow me. I don’t have time to coddle you. I have work to do.”
“Yes, sir.” She ran alongside him as he walked toward the elevator, then turned right down the passage. He walked through an open door. “This is the kitchen area. The coffee machine.” He waved at it. “I like my latte with two sugars. You’ll also need to make coffee for any clients.”
“Of course.”
“You can put that there.” He pointed at the container, then the counter. “The bathroom is down the other corridor. Any other rooms on the floor are empty or used for storage. You don’t need to go into them. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He strode out and back into the waiting area. “This is your desk. I’ll get you the password for the computer. You’ll answer the phone, fetch me food, and greet any clients. Anything else?”
“Is that everything you want me to do?” she asked.
“For the moment, let’s start you on that. Do you think you can handle it?”
“S-sure.”
“Good. You can start by getting me lunch. Cheese and pastrami sandwich from the sandwich shop down the next block and a latte from downstairs. I’ll get you some cash.”
There was no way she could do this job.
No. Way.
Faith didn’t know why she’d thought she could. Not only did she have no idea what she was doing.
But her boss was a tyrant.
And he hadn’t even tried her banana bread yet. Actually, perhaps she’d go cut him a slice. He wouldn’t mind if she had a slice as well, right? She hadn’t eaten breakfast this morning and had forgotten to bring any lunch.
The lunch she’d picked up for him had looked delicious.
Maybe after she had her first paycheck she’d buy herself one.
Getting up, the room spun slightly. Shoot. She needed to eat something. Faith couldn’t go for long periods without eating, but sometimes, it was hard to remember to stop for a snack. She breathed through the spinning and nausea and made her way into the kitchen area.
He’d probably want a coffee with his slice of banana bread. She stared at the coffee machine like it was an alien.
This thing had spouts and a temperature gauge and it was a shiny chrome that kind of mocked her.
Look at me, all expensive and shiny. Bet you’re too dumb to use me.
She’d show it.
Ten minutes later, she was sweaty and tired, but she had made him something that resembled a latte. She sliced two pieces of banana bread. Faith carefully carried his coffee and the plate with his piece of banana bread back to her office.
Do not drop it.
Putting the plate down on her desk, she knocked on his door and opened it when he called out.
“Come in.”
Picking up the plate again, she slowly and carefully carried everything into his office, setting it down on his desk.
“I brought you a latte and a piece of banana bread.”
He was frowning at something on his computer. But he nodded and reached out without looking to grab the piece of banana bread.
Faith knew she should leave. Sure, it was a bit rude that he didn’t say thank you, but he didn’t seem the type to really worry about being polite.
It was fine. Everything was all fine. All she needed was to see his face as he got a taste of her famous banana bread.
She was on tiptoes as he took a large bite . . . his face scrunched up, his eyes practically popped out of his face, and his cheeks grew red.
What was it? What was wrong?
Oh God. Had she messed it up, somehow?
Scrambling around, he grabbed a garbage bin and spat it out.
Then he reached for his coffee. He took a large sip and his face started turning purple. What now? What was wrong?
He stood, looking down at the coffee. “What is this? And what is that?” He pointed at the banana bread.
“I . . . I . . . ”
Reuben narrowed his eyes at her. “Were you sent here to poison me?”
“No! I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong?” She wrung her hands together. “Are they no good?”
He ran his hand over his face, taking deep breaths. “I think you should leave.”
Leave where? Leave his office? Or leave as in she was fired?
Great. This was awesome. She hadn’t even worked a whole day!
“I’m so sorry. I thought you’d like it.” Feeling defeated, she left the room and walked back to the kitchen. She took a bite of the banana bread. It tasted fine to her.
After tidying up, she walked back to her desk to gather her things up.
She was walking to the elevator, when Reuben stepped out of the office. “Good, you’re going for coffee?”
“Oh, I, um . . . I can?”
“Take the company card.” He entered the office and came back out, holding it to her.
She took it, wondering what had happened.
He stood there for a moment before clearing his throat.
“Oh, and Ms. Blossom? Get yourself a coffee too. We have more work to do. Don’t want you getting tired again.”
So, she wasn’t fired?
Yay!
“Yes, sir.”
She wasn’t sure why he grimaced when he said that. But she decided that maybe that was just his personality. Perhaps he was like her Grandpa Jake.
Grouchy on the outside, but marshmallow on the inside.
Yes, perhaps that was it.