Chapter 3
THREE
MALLORY
THE WATER IS HOT, NEARLY scalding, lapping against my chest. The air in the bathroom is steamy, fogging up the mirrors as I relax in a blissful, lavender-scented bath.
All thoughts of the day—the insane tempo of Landry Holdings, the exhilaration of a first day, my sexy-as-hell boss that I can barely look at with a straight face—begin to melt into the water.
Filling my body with the lovely mist, I feel Graham’s hand on my— “Excuse me.”
“Oh!” I yelp, jumping in my office chair and bumping my knee on the underside of the desk. “I didn’t see you standing there.”
“Because your eyes were closed,” Graham points out. My cheeks flush as I wonder how long he stood there and watched me. It’s a full minute before I realize he’s awaiting an explanation. It’s another minute before it’s obvious he will either get one or he’ll keep standing there.
“I was visualizing,” I say, hoping we can now move on. “Visualizing what?”
Getting ready to visualize you naked, but you ruined that. “I was doing a quick relaxation technique. Walking through what I plan on doing when I get home to relax from the stress of the day.”
His sun-kissed skin pulls together along the ridge of his forehead. He looks at me like I’m crazy. I return the favor as a buzzing noise quietly sounds from my desktop phone, alerting me it’s five o’clock. The light at the top dims. How efficient.
“Was today stressful for you?” he asks.
“Kind of.” I rub my knee from the ding to the desk and stand. “It was my first day. Aren’t they always stressful?”
“I haven’t had a first day in a long time,” he grins.
“That’s probably true,” I admit. “Trust me, they stink.”
“‘Stink’? Are we back in high school?”
“Would you rather me say ‘suck’?”
I don’t mean it to come out so sassy, so much like an innuendo. I guess that’s just what happens when a man stands before you in a suit and looks so good, you aren’t sure he could look better stripped down.
His shoulders are wide, filling out the top of his jacket, his trim waist fitted with a brown leather belt. Everything fits him so perfectly, I’m sure it’s custom-made. So many men get worn by the suit. Graham Landry definitely wears his.
“I think we need to change the subject,” he says, clearing his throat. “How do you feel about your day?”
“Good. Gina, the girl from HR, trained me most of the day. There’s really not a lot here that’s different from any other administrative assistant job I’ve had. Just new systems, but they’re pretty easy to figure out.”
“Besides being late, I thought you did a good job. Gina said you caught on fast.”
He leans against the door, one foot over the other.
I force myself not to let my gaze drop down the lines of his body and instead focus on the lines of his face.
Not that it’s any easier, but more politically correct and it’ll be good to have a clear image for when I visualize it between my legs when I get home.
“I just drafted an email, defining what I’m going to need you to take on in order to make this an effective working relationship. I know it’s past five, but if you can peruse it before you leave today and send me a response, that would be helpful.”
“Sure.”
He flashes me a half smile, one that he appears to have to force himself to give, and disappears inside his office again.
The breath comes out heavier than I anticipate as I plop back down in my chair. Waking up my desktop, I wait for my email to open. As referenced, there is one new message in my inbox.
To: Mallory Sims, Administrative Assistant
From: Graham Landry, CEO
Re: Requirements
Please note the bulleted items below. They are non-negotiable.
· Be on time. You must be at your seat, ready to go, by eight a.m., Monday through Friday.
· Keep your desk neat. Organization is key.
· I will email you a list of daily priorities by eight a.m. each morning. Ensure those tasks are completed before you leave (in addition to what may arise during the day).
· My family are the only people allowed in my office without an announcement. Additionally, they’re the only people I may be interrupted for during a meeting.
· Please familiarize yourself with the packet of information I left for you under your car keys (which I picked up from the floor and placed on the corner of your desk.)
A simple response to this would be appreciated.
Graham
Is he for real?
Glancing across the desk, there is a set of papers under my keys and I have no idea when he put them there. I’ve been here all day. Turning back to the list, I look it over once more. Before I can hit reply, my inbox dings again. The body of the message is empty; only the “Re:” field has text.
To: Mallory Sims, Administrative Assistant
From: Graham Landry, CEO
Re: Amend previous email to include: Keep eyes open at desk.
I’m not sure he’s kidding.
To: Graham Landry, CEO
From: Mallory Sims, Administrative Assistant
Re: Requirements
That all seems reasonable. I will see you tomorrow. On time.
“HEY, KITTY.” I GREET MY kitten with a nuzzle behind her grey ears. “What happened in your world today?”
She stretches, the little bell on her collar jingling.
The sun has nearly set and my apartment is soaking up the final few rays coming through the window.
I flip on some lights and glance around on my way to the kitchen.
It’s coming together. The walls still need a fresh coat of paint, but I just don’t have time to dedicate to that.
Still, it looks a ton better than it did when I moved in here a few months ago.
The couple before me had a more modern approach to decorating.
Everything was white and black and straight lines.
It was absurdly boring. The pottery pieces I’ve collected over my entire life help add some color and make it feel more like my own space, something I’ve never really had.
Eric’s face zips through my mind and I feel my heart pitter just a little. I miss him. Of course I do. I didn’t leave him because I didn’t love him. I left him because he basically told me he planned on leaving me eventually.
“You did what?” he hissed.
“I dropped out of school,” I told him. “Nursing isn’t for me, Eric.
It sounded like a good career path initially—good money, good job market.
But I hate it. Loathe it. I’d rather stick a pencil in my eye and gouge my eyeballs out than do some of those things.
I just thought I could love it, and you thought it would be good for me. ”
“It is good for you,” he laughed angrily. “Mal, what do you think you’re going to do with your life? Huh? Making coffee in some businessman’s office is not a career path.”
“I don’t just make coffee! I’m the Executive Assistant to the CEO.
I’ve worked there for four years and have been promoted twice.
I’m the highest paid administrative personnel in the building and I managed that while I was going to school for the last year.
They say I’m a natural and I love it, Eric.
It’s what I was born to do. Business is—”
“Mal, sweetie, business isn’t for you. It’s for .
. . other people.” He took off his jacket and looked at me.
“Your boss probably likes having a young piece of ass in the office. Why wouldn’t he?
” he sighed as red-hot tears blurred my eyes.
“This is going to sound blunt, but you need to hear it. Your boss is blowing smoke up your ass to get you to spread your legs. And if you think I’m going to work my ass off to take care of you forever, you’re crazy. ”
My heart broke, his words strangled me. “I don’t,” I cried. “Why would you say that to me?”
He looked at me with pity in his eyes. “Do you think I don’t realize what you did? You hitched a ride up here with me so you don’t end up like your parents. You thought I was your Golden Ticket.”
“Eric,” I said through a smattering of tears. “I came because I love you.”
“I love you too. But . . .” The look he gave me, more than pity, of indifference, slayed me. “You don’t really think you and I are going to last, right? I mean, we have fun. Sex is great. But we’re not, you know, marriage types.”
Leaving him was the hardest thing I’ve ever done because it wasn’t just leaving him.
It was leaving my life there, everything I knew as an adult, everything that was comfortable.
Yet, being on my own, while scary as all get out, has been liberating.
Making choices from dinner to my job are all mine.
I’m actually creating my life and figuring out what works for me.
For the first time in my life, I feel like I might be strong enough to do it.
There’s nothing in the fridge when I look inside, which is fine considering I’m not really hungry.
As I try to determine whether a visit to the yoga studio or a bath is in order, the phone rings.
“Hello?” I say after I find it at the bottom of my purse, directly under the water bottle that caused all the commotion earlier today.
“Hey, you!” Joy chirps. “I got the job.”
“That’s fabulous! When do you start?”
“Next week. We need to celebrate.”
I cringe as I sink at one of the mismatched chairs at the kitchen table.
Joy’s description of celebration doesn’t mesh with the description of my wallet.
Her parents are friends of the Landry’s, meaning they have money.
Lots of it. They could probably wallpaper their house with it if they wanted to.
“I’m going to be working a lot this week,” I say, figuring it’s the truth. “I’m not sure I’m going to have time to go out or shopping or whatever you have in mind.”
“Sienna and I are going shopping tomorrow after work. You’re invited, of course, but if you can’t, I understand, you working girl, you,” she giggles. “I need a completely updated look. Professional, but with a twist, you know, because there’s no reason to look stuffy.”
“Of course not,” I chuckle.