Chapter 5 Theo
Theo
As I emerge from the confines of my work, I glance up at the time on my computer screen.
My stomach rumbles the second I notice it’s lunchtime.
I forgot to pack something today, which means I’ll have to fend for myself and either venture down into the lunchroom or go off-site to find somewhere to eat.
I’m buried deep in a mess that just seems to be getting bigger and bigger the more I dig. I’m not a numbers guy, but even I can tell when I look at these income reports that some things have been skewed.
If I had known what a battlefield I was walking into, I’m not sure I would’ve signed on the dotted line. I’ve overcome a lot of things within my career as an executive, but the premonition that this might be bigger than anything I’ve ever faced has me greatly concerned.
My goal coming into this company was to help lead it into a new avenue of commercial real estate, but if there’s something bigger lurking here, I’m going to need to uncover it before I can even hope to start making any notable changes.
And with the Board breathing down my neck with their high expectations, I know it’s going to have to happen soon.
A sneeze from outside my office breaks me out of my grim thought processes. Whitney.
I guess there have been some good things to come from taking over this company. If I hadn’t made the deal, who knows if I would’ve had the pleasure of meeting my assistant.
A sly smirk forms on my face, and before I know it, I’m pushing away from my desk and sauntering out to Whitney’s workspace. She looks up as soon as I’m standing in front of her, and my dick twitches at how her plump lips purse.
“Hi, Theo.”
Damn. I could get used to the sound of my name on her lips. It takes every ounce of willpower to keep my gaze from falling back down to her mouth and wondering what those plump lips might feel like on mine.
“What can I help you with?” she asks as her fingers fly over her keyboard. She hits the enter key with her pinky and then turns her full attention to me.
I stick my hands in my pockets to act as some type of boundary between us.
Not that I’d actually reach out for her, but the urge to be close to her pulls stronger and stronger every day.
I’m fucked when it comes to her. No matter how hard I try to keep myself in line, even being in her presence has me balled up in knots.
For the last few weeks, I’ve made valiant attempts to be professional, and so far, I haven’t crossed the line, aside from when she fell into my arms. But each day, whatever this is between us seems to grow more and more pronounced.
I wonder if she can feel it too. I’m dying to know what’s going through her head when she sees me.
I suspect it’s similar to how I’m feeling, based on the way her eyes dilate and her breath hitches when I roll up my sleeves.
Or how her elegant tongue darts out and wets her lips when I catch her watching me chew on the cap of my pen.
Or when our eyes meet and we don’t look away from each other until a second longer than is generally customary.
“What’s on your agenda today?” I ask her, forcing myself back into business-mode.
She looks down at her schedule, laying on her desk. “I have a meeting at two o’clock, but other than that, it’s a light day. Anything you need me to do?”
“Yes,” I say, and she perks up. Fuck, she’s a dream. “Come to lunch with me.” Her lips part slightly, and I smile victoriously, knowing I’ve finally got her. She can’t say no now. “Please,” I add, for good measure.
Her mouth purses off to the side as she watches me and considers my request. I’m surprised when she nods her head.
Surprised, and then equal parts relieved, that I finally get to spend time with her outside of this office and concerned that we’re making a terrible mistake in doing so.
I know the stakes, and I’m sure she does too.
But I just can’t seem to help myself. “Okay, you win. Where do you want to go?”
I press my lips together in a tight smile. I hadn’t thought that far ahead, sure that she would turn me down again. “Uh, wherever is fine. You pick.”
She shoots me a conspiratorial smile, like she knows I don’t know shit about what restaurants are around the building. “Okay, how about JT’s?”
I shrug. “Sure. I don’t know what that is.”
Whitney laughs and reaches under her desk for her bag. Swinging it over her shoulder, she walks around the edge of the desk until she’s standing next to me. “It’s a pub. I’m sure there’s something there that your refined tastes will like.”
I can’t help but grin at her as she leads us out of the building.
I know we’re getting a few questionable looks, but they can get over it.
I’m just a CEO, having lunch with his assistant.
They can whisper about us all they want, but my day has gotten infinitely better now that I get to spend time with Whitney outside of our usual setting.
We walk just a few blocks from our building, over to the hole-in-the-wall pub.
The minute we step inside, I know immediately that I’m going to like whatever food I order here.
Since rising to the executive level, I hardly ever find myself in small joints like this.
Nowadays, I’m more likely to be stuck in a stuffy boardroom with catered food.
Which is fine, but every once in a while, I still have the urge to demolish a big, greasy burger.
Whitney leads us over to a high-top table in the bar area. A waiter comes over and sets down two coasters on the table before taking our drink order and handing us some menus.
Whitney doesn’t even glance at it.
She still takes it gratefully, but lays the menu down flat on the table as soon as the waiter walks away.
I raise a brow at her. “Come here often?”
She gives me a sheepish smile and shrugs one shoulder. “Sometimes.”
“So, what’s good here?” I inquire, browsing over the menu and taking in all the options.
She laughs, and my eyes fly back up to her. “Pretty much everything. I don’t think you could order anything bad from this place.”
“Good to know,” I mumble before snapping my menu shut, decided.
The waiter returns then with our drinks: a diet soda for Whitney and water for me.
“So, how’s your day going?” Whitney asks, pulling the paper off her straw and sticking it into the ice and soda. She leans forward and wraps her lips around the straw, taking a sip of her drink.
I swallow thickly and pull my attention from her mouth. “Lots of financial reports today. So, in other words, terrible.”
“Finances aren’t your thing, huh?”
“No, that’s more my brother’s wheelhouse,” I say.
“I heard he’ll be joining us,” she says, stirring her straw around. “Was that always the plan?”
I rest my elbows on the table, leaning toward her a little more. “Kind of. I pushed for him to be appointed as CFO, because I’m terrible at numbers. He’s much better at it. We seem to balance each other well. I manage well, and he’s good with numbers and statements.”
I’m counting down the days until Chase gets to the office. I can’t wait for him to see the mess I’ve uncovered—the mess that Vance Peterson seemed to go to great lengths to bury.
She nods as if that makes perfect sense. “Have you always done realty?”
“No, actually. Before this, we worked for a textile trading corporation over in London. When this opportunity presented itself, I knew we had to jump on it. My grandfather was great friends with Vance, and when he said he was looking to retire soon, my name got put into the ring. I worked hard to come up with a proposal that stood out enough to catch the attention of the Board. Hopefully, it pays off and they’ll think I’m worth it in the long run. ”
She waves her hand, dismissing my negative thoughts. “They will. I know they will. So, your brother—what’s his name?”
“Chase,” I say. “He should be starting here in the next few weeks.”
“Is he as apt for troublemaking as you are?” she says, her voice teasing.
I smirk and shake my head. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She chuckles just as the waiter arrives again to take our orders. Whitney orders the chicken parmesan sandwich with a side salad. I follow through on my thoughts from earlier and order the thickest, juiciest cheeseburger they have—with added bacon.
“Now it’s your turn on the hot seat,” I say once we’re alone again. “Tell me about you. We’ve been working together for a few weeks now, but I feel like I know hardly anything about you, other than that you’re crazy about sticky notes and highlighters.”
I try to ignore the way pink blooms on her cheeks and how her eyes light up at the mention of her organizing habits. “There’s not much to tell. I live a pretty boring life.”
“Somehow, I doubt that,” I say.
Whitney rolls her eyes. “Really. I come to work in the morning. Then I leave at the end of the day. I go home, scavenge something for dinner, and then go to bed, only to do it all over again.” She glanced up to the ceiling, then back down to me.
“Oh, and sometimes I hang out with my friend, Leila, on the weekends. She’s a science teacher. ”
I nod my head but lean back in my chair. “There’s got to be more. Come on, tell me. What’s one of your deepest secrets?”
She gives me a look like she doesn’t know if I’m joking or not. I’m not. I want to know her. When I don’t budge from my expectant position, her shoulders depress with an exhale.
“My deepest secrets?” she questions. “Like, work wise or—”
I nod my head. “Anything. Your dreams, or ambitions, or whatever. Lay it on me. I want to know.”
She’s hesitant as she nibbles on her bottom lip. “Okay, fine. I guess I always dreamed that by this age, I’d be married and have a family. It’s all I’ve ever really wanted. I never imagined I’d be stuck in the corporate world as an assistant still.”