2. The New Assistant
TWO
THE NEW ASSISTANT
Logan
My Manhattan penthouse feels empty this morning, haunted by the memory of a certain brunette and flashes of our night together. Adjusting my tie, I remember emerging from my work call yesterday to find her gone. No note, no goodbye, just the untouched clothes I’d left for her.
I still don’t understand. One moment, I was firing an incompetent project manager, and the next, she’d vanished. I’d prepared everything—even planned to take her to breakfast. I’m not usually this... considerate. But she’s gone, and here I am, trying to shake the image of wild curls on my couch and whiskey-flavored kisses.
My phone buzzes. It’s Sandra from HR, reminding me about the new executive assistant starting today. I’d left the hiring to her while focusing on an AI startup acquisition. “Perfect candidate,” she’d said.
Two hours later, I stride through the Monarch Ventures lobby, mentally preparing for the day. Publicly, Monarch is a rising star in tech investments. Privately, it’s part of the empire I’ve built—my fifth company, but the one closest to my heart. My security guard murmurs greetings as I pass. My Edinburgh accent still draws double takes, and it’s just as strong as ever, even after a decade in New York.
My corner office, with its panoramic city views and intimidating glass desk, is exactly as I left it. Sandra appears promptly at half-past eight, tablet in hand. “Your new executive assistant is here, Mr. Fraser.”
“If this one’s as incompetent as the last, you’ll join them in the unemployment line,” I reply, not looking up from my reports.
“She’s exceptional,” Sandra insists.
“Send her in. And forward her resume to my computer. I should know who’s running my life.”
The click of heels on hardwood. A familiar scent. My head snaps up. Bloody hell.
Bella stands in my office, her curls tamed, but those red lips unmistakable. She looks every inch like a corporate professional, yet all I see is the woman I kissed for hours.
“You must be joking,” I say, harsher than intended. Of course she applied to Monarch Ventures. She couldn’t have known I owned the company; I’ve buried my involvement under layers of corporate structure.
She’s pale but composed. “I didn’t realize…”
“Obviously,” I cut her off, my fury mingling with hurt. “Sandra, leave us.”
The door shuts, leaving us alone.
“Your application failed to mention you’re my sister’s best friend,” I say coldly. What truly bothers me is how she left—after years of careful distance, one night of giving in, and she’s gone without a word.
Her chin lifts. “Like hell I would have applied if I knew my boss would be you . Is this some game? First, you find me on the terrace, take me to your penthouse… and now you’re my boss?”
“Let’s get something straight. You’re here because Sandra hired you. I’d never have approved it had I known.”
“Then fire me.”
The challenge in her eyes makes my blood heat. It’s the same look she gave me at Audrey’s university party years ago when she’d called me out on my arrogance before dragging me down for a kiss—our first.
“Unfortunately,” I stand and move around my desk, enjoying how she tenses, “I have a major acquisition in progress and can’t waste time finding someone new. So we’re going to establish some ground rules.”
“I don’t need?—”
“Rule one.” I let my accent thicken, remembering how it affected her on the balcony. “The wedding night never happened. Rule two: you will be professional, efficient, and invisible. Rule three: one mistake, one slip suggesting any... personal history between us, and you’re gone. Clear?”
Her smile is pure venom. “Crystal clear, Mr. Fraser. Shall I start by organizing your calendar? I notice it’s a mess.” She glances at my computer screen.
She’s already pushing boundaries and challenging me, just like she always has. I should fire her now.
“Fine.” I return to my desk. “One more thing.”
“What?”
“That dress is inappropriate for the office. I expect proper corporate attire tomorrow.”
It’s a lie. Her dress is perfectly professional. I just need to erase the memory of peeling an equally flattering one off of her that night at the wedding.
“Of course, sir ,” she practically spits the words. “Anything else?”
“Yes. Cancel my nine o’clock. I suddenly have a headache.”
She exits my office with perfect poise but slams the door hard enough to rattle the framed awards on my wall. Through the glass partition, I watch her settle at her desk, a frown on her beautiful face.
My phone buzzes. Sandra. “I assume the introduction went well?” she asks.
I hang up without answering, then toss my phone onto my desk.
What a bloody mess.
I should have paid attention to the hiring process. I should have known she’d eventually cross my path again professionally—she’s too talented not to. Should have ignored her on that terrace at the wedding, like I’ve managed to do at every other family event for years.
Should have run after her that morning instead of letting my pride win.
My calendar alert pings. Bella has not only kept my nine a.m. but moved it to eight forty-five. It’s eight forty-three.
Bloody hell.
I grab my acquisition files and stride out. “Meeting room three,” I bark as I pass her desk.
“Yes, Mr. Fraser,” she says sweetly. Too sweetly. “Would you like me to grab coffee first? I make an excellent cup. Though I don’t know for sure how you take it—black like your soul, right?”
As she falls in step next to me, I catch Audrey’s name lighting up her phone. That’ll be an interesting conversation. My sister will assume I’m repeating my usual pattern with her friends, never knowing Bella’s been the exception all along. The one I actually wanted and couldn’t have.
Until Audrey’s wedding.
But right now, I have a meeting to dominate and an assistant to put in her place. No matter how much I wish things had gone differently.
* * *
Four days in, and it’s clear Bella is waging war. My meticulously organized schedule has “glitches”—conflicting meetings, overlapping appointments, and double-booked gym sessions. Through the glass, she works efficiently, humming under her breath. Infuriatingly, she’s good at her job despite the sabotage.
“Mr. Fraser,” Bella chirps, too sweetly. “Phillips Corp. is here for your two p.m.”
I blink, already frowning. Phillips? That’s not on the schedule.
I spin toward my screen, checking the calendar again—blank. No meeting. No alert. Definitely no notice of our biggest competitor waltzing into the building unannounced. “Interesting,” I say evenly, pressing the comm. “Phillips Corp., you said?”
There’s a pause, just for a second, and in my head, I imagine Bella biting down on her lower lip as she thinks up a quick reply. No surprise, it comes moments later. “Yes. The system must be glitching. I’ll have IT look into it.”
Glitching, my ass. Phillips is our biggest competitor. She knows exactly what she’s doing. I’m over the back and forth. I stand, smooth down my sleeves, and walk out of my office with my hands in my pockets. She looks up as I reach her desk, lips painted the kind of red that makes a man think of everything he shouldn’t. That smile curves like sin, lazy and confident, and her eyes drag over me.
“Clear your evening,” I tell her, passing her desk. “We’re staying late to fix these glitches.”
Her victorious smile vanishes.
Got you now, love.
I don’t wait for whatever comeback she’s holding. I turn, head back to my office, and close the door with a soft click. The laugh slips out before I can stop it, quiet and low, more exhale than sound. Two o’clock rolls around fast, along with the Phillips meeting. It starts off well enough, until my phone begins to buzz incessantly. I spare a glance at the name of the caller, and of course it’s Audrey. My stomach drops. Audrey. I send it to voicemail, but she calls again. And again. I should have known this was coming.
The conference room doors finally swing shut behind me, two full hours after Phillips Corp. stormed in to interrogate me about Monarch’s latest moves in the AI space. My jaw aches from holding my composure, my tie feels like a noose, and my brain is still buzzing from the sheer mental gymnastics it took to avoid giving away our next move.
I loosen my collar with one hand, muttering a curse under my breath, but the moment I push open the door to my office, any relief I expected evaporates.
Audrey is sitting in one of the chairs across from my desk, arms crossed and eyes blazing. Her posture is rigid, but it’s the kind of restraint that barely holds back an explosion. She doesn’t even wait for me to fully step inside before delivering her greeting.
“You absolute wanker.”
I shut the door behind me, grateful for the soundproof glass as I take in her stormy expression. “Hello to you too, sister dear. Wasn’t your honeymoon supposed to last a month?”
She stands slowly, one hand going to her hip. “Did you really think Louis and I would leave business hanging for a month?”
I move to the bar cart by the window and pour myself a splash of scotch. “And I take it you’re here for business, too.”
“Don’t,” she snaps, taking a step closer. Her voice rises with the full force of her Edinburgh accent, sharp and furious. “You slept with another one of my friends? Again?”
I grip the edge of the bar and exhale before turning to face her fully. “Bella told you about it?”
“She told me everything. How could you be so cold? After what happened with Karen last year? And Melissa before that?”
I drag a hand down my face and sink into my chair behind the desk, suddenly exhausted. “It’s not what you think.”
She leans forward, both palms flat on my desk, eyes locked on mine. “It’s exactly what I think. You find my friends, charm them with that accent, and then treat them like they’re disposable. And now she’s your assistant? Are you trying to punish her?”
“I didn’t hire her.”
She straightens, pacing now, her heels clacking across the floor. “But you’re making her life hell.” Her hand flies up, tugging at her sleek blonde hair in frustration. “Logan, you’re my brother, and I love you, but you’ve got to stop this pattern. My friends aren’t your personal dating pool.”
I watch her carefully, weighing what I can say without making this worse. “Dating implies more than one night.”
“You’re impossible.” She lets out a scoff and walks to the window, staring out at the skyline as if it might help her make sense of all this.
“And this is different. Bella’s… she’s always been different.”
Her back stiffens. She turns. “What do you mean?”
I shake my head and pull my laptop closer, opening it more out of habit than focus. “Nothing. Don’t you have actual business to handle?”
“Logan.”
There’s a shift in her voice, quieter now. I glance up, and her expression has changed. Her anger is still there, but it's dulled by something else. Curiosity. Concern.
“How long?”
I lean back, hesitant. “How long what?”
“You have that look when you like someone. So, how long?!”
The office feels smaller suddenly, like the walls are pressing in. I sigh, knowing there’s no use dodging the question anymore. “Since your university graduation party,” I admit, the memory rising clear as day. “But she was your best friend. Off-limits.”
She blinks, stunned for half a breath. “So, instead, you went after my other friends?”
I tilt my head slightly, guilt already heavy in my chest. “I didn’t go after anyone. They were convenient distractions.”
“You’re impossible.” Her voice is tired now as she smooths her dress, no longer furious but still frustrated. She walks back toward the door.
“Fix this,” she says firmly. “Either fire her or tell her the truth. But this psychological warfare? It stops now.”
My chair creaks as I shift forward. “What do you mean, fix this? Bella’s the one tormenting me. Did she tell you about how she’s been messing up my schedules? Look at my eyes—I haven’t had a good night’s rest since she started working here.”
She crosses her arms again, but her glare falters. “I wouldn’t blame her after what you did the morning after you had sex with her.”
I straighten. “What did I do?”
“Don’t act clueless, Logan. You told her to let herself out after you fucked her all night.”
My sister saying “you fucked her all night” is just about all I can take. I close my eyes, taking a moment before I answer. “Firstly, you’re my sister, and it’s a tad weird when you talk about me fucking. Secondly, Bella and I didn’t have a single conversation the morning after. I was on a call, and I went to the bathroom, and by the time I returned, she was gone.”
Audrey pauses, studying me. Her eyes narrow slightly, searching for a lie. Then, slowly, they soften. “You swear?”
I nod vigorously. “On Dad’s head. I was on the phone—had my earbuds in, firing someone. She must have thought I was talking to her.”
The realization settles between us. The misunderstanding, the weeks of tension that resurfaced when she began working at the office, and the sabotage. It all falls into place with grim clarity.
“Oh… my…” Audrey draws the words out, dragging a hand down her face. “This has been a huge mistake.”
Honestly, all this does is make me angrier. Because what actually stopped Bella from staying to ask, from just hurling a simple “What the hell do you think you’re doing” at me? Yes, it was a mistake, but why didn’t she fight back? A muscle twitches in my jaw, and I take a moment to compose myself. “Not a word to her,” I say then, quietly. “I’ll handle this myself.”
Audrey balks. “But?—”
I glare at her, saying as much as I can in as few words as possible. “Not a word, Audrey. I’ll take care of this.”
She hesitates at the door. “Promise you won’t hurt her? She’s been through a lot already. I just want my best friend to be happy.”
I meet her eyes, steady. “We want the same thing, then.”
She lingers only a second more before stepping out. I catch her pausing at Bella’s desk, wrapping her in a hug. They exchange a few whispers, then Audrey leaves, both of them shooting me matching looks of thinly veiled contempt through the glass.
I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling as everything catches up to me. That morning. Her expression. The silence. It all makes sense now, and I hate how easily it could’ve been prevented. I should have chased after her. Should have explained. Instead, I let her believe the worst.
The office grows quieter as the clock ticks past six. Most of the staff have packed up for the night, their desks empty, their chatter gone. Bella remains, head bowed, fingers flying over the keyboard as she corrects the “glitches” I told her to fix.
I rise slowly, walking to the door. I hesitate there for a beat, watching her through the glass. Her mouth is set in a stubborn line, but there’s something tired in the slump of her shoulders.
“Bella.”
She glances up, face unreadable, but I catch the flicker of annoyance behind her carefully controlled expression.
“Yes, Mr. Fraser?”
“Go home.”
“But the schedule?—”
“Just go.” I return to my desk before she can say anything else. Before I change my mind and tell her the truth. “And tomorrow? Try to actually do your job instead of sabotaging mine.”
I hear the rustle of her papers, the soft sound of her chair scraping back. The elevator dings faintly in the distance.
I press my thumb to my temple and breathe out slowly.
I should fire her.
It would be easier. No more tension, no more mind games, no more memories of her mouth on mine, or the soft sounds she made when I touched her, or the way she whispered my name like it meant something.
But I don’t. I won’t.
Because the truth is I’ve never been able to stay away from Bella Levine.
Not then and most certainly not now.