Chapter Five
Simon
“Everything with the product launch is on track,” Liam said as I signed the receipt for our lunch.
With Liam stationed at GalvaTech most days, we’d fallen into a rhythm of meeting for lunch a couple of times a week to catch each other up on business matters.
GalvaTech was developing a portable electric vehicle charger, and we’d invested heavily to provide the capital they needed to bring it to market.
Liam had been on-site for months now, advising the management team and working closely with every department to ensure a smooth launch.
“Mass production is well underway,” he continued as we pushed through the restaurant doors and stepped into the midday sun. “The sales team has split their focus between email campaigns and press kits. Social media is developing a strategy to build awareness before release.”
“Good.” I slipped my wallet into my jacket pocket. “I’m glad everything’s finally coming together.”
There was a time, just a couple of months ago, when GalvaTech had looked like a disaster waiting to happen.
The company’s Chief Technology Officer, the man who’d developed the original prototype, had been embezzling funds to feed a hidden drug problem.
That kind of scandal could have voided our contract entirely, but Liam insisted on sticking with them.
He’d pushed to invest even more money to cover the losses.
Partly because he believed in the company and the product.
But mostly because of Morgan. She was head of marketing at GalvaTech, which her father owned.
And that CTO who’d nearly torpedoed everything? Her stepbrother.
Liam had broken a cardinal rule of business: he’d fallen in love with a client.
So naturally, he wanted to help her family.
I wasn’t attached to GalvaTech in the same way, but I wasn’t heartless, despite what some of my former assistants might claim.
I’d agreed to the additional investment, betting that the new EV charger would generate enough return to justify the risk.
Based on Liam’s reports, that bet was looking solid. Which meant I could redirect my attention elsewhere.
“So,” Liam said as we crossed the parking lot toward our cars, a knowing glint entering his eyes, “how’s the new assistant working out?”
I kept my expression neutral. “She only just started this morning.”
“I know. Kurt’s sister, right?” He studied me with the kind of scrutiny only a sibling could manage. “I’m surprised you agreed to it. Hiring a friend’s family member seems like a recipe for complications, especially with your track record with assistants.”
I shot my brother a look, even though he wasn’t wrong. “It’s a ninety-day trial. We’ll see how she does.”
“That’s not an answer to my question.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting,” I said.
Liam laughed, shaking his head. “Come on. First impressions? Is she competent? Is she going to last longer than the parade of assistants you’ve burned through this year?”
Competent wasn’t the first word that came to mind when I thought about Raina Seager.
Distracting was a closer descriptor. And very unexpected.
The way she’d walked into my office this morning with that bright smile and those ridiculous cookies, talking a mile a minute while I tried not to notice the way her blue eyes sparkled when she was nervous.
Yeah, I’d noticed anyway.
“She seems capable,” I said, keeping my tone even. “Time will tell if she can actually handle the workload.”
“High praise, coming from you.” Liam’s tone was dry. “Try not to scare this one off in the first week, yeah?”
“I don’t scare people off.”
The look he gave me suggested he disagreed, but he let it drop. “I’ll be at GalvaTech for the rest of the week, but I’ll stop by the office on Friday. Maybe I’ll actually get to meet her before you find a reason to fire her.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re hilarious.”
We parted ways at our cars, and I drove back to the office with Liam’s words rattling around in my head. Try not to scare this one off.
The problem wasn’t scaring Raina off. The problem was the way my pulse had kicked up when she’d walked through my office door.
The way I’d found myself cataloging details I had no business noticing—the exact shade of her blonde hair, the fullness of her lower lip, the way she’d bitten it when she was nervous.
Attraction would only lead to trouble. I knew that. I’d built my professional life on clean boundaries and compartmentalized thinking. Women I worked with were off-limits, full stop. I’d never even been tempted to blur those lines.
Until this morning.
Raina Seager was the first assistant to make me want things I absolutely could not have. Which meant I needed to shut it down. Bury whatever this was and focus on what mattered: determining whether she could actually do the job.
Nothing else was relevant.
I’d told Raina she could take lunch when I returned, so the office wouldn’t be left unattended. But when I stepped off the elevator, I found her still at her desk, a half-eaten sandwich beside her keyboard, her attention locked on the computer screen.
She didn’t notice me. I stopped in the hallway, telling myself I was just assessing her work ethic. Observing how she operated when she thought no one was watching. That was all.
But my gaze lingered longer than observation required.
In profile, her features were delicate—high cheekbones, a straight, narrow nose, a jaw that curved gracefully toward her chin. Her blue eyes were framed by long, dark lashes, and her blonde hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, catching the light from the windows.
She was wearing a pale pink blouse, silk or something like it, tucked into a black pencil skirt that hugged her hips.
I’d noticed when she walked into my office this morning.
I’d also noticed the way her blouse accentuated her full breasts, and how that same skirt emphasized her narrow waist. When she’d turned to leave, I’d noticed even more—the subtle sway of her hips, and the perfect curve of her ass that made me think about bending her over my desk and—
I immediately cut off that train of thought. I shouldn’t have been looking. I definitely shouldn’t have remembered every detail about her hours later. But I did.
Now I watched her nibble on her bottom lip as she worked, a small furrow of concentration between her brows, and felt heat coil low in my stomach. Desire. Pure and inconvenient and completely inappropriate.
I needed to stop this. Right now.
I walked toward her desk, irritation at myself sharpening my tone. “You have an hour-long lunch break built into your schedule. You don’t need to eat at your desk.”
Raina’s eyes snapped to mine, and a pink flush spread across her cheeks. It made her even prettier; I resented that and the way my body responded to something as simple as a blush.
“Oh—sorry,” she said, looking genuinely contrite. “I didn’t realize it would be a problem.”
That sheepish expression bothered me more than it should have. Even worse was knowing I’d put it there.
I was being too hard on her. I knew that. But acknowledging it meant examining why I was on edge around her, and that was the last thing I wanted to do.
I cleared my throat, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly and forcing myself to use a softer tone this time. “It’s fine. It’s just… not necessary.”
Her gaze dropped to the desk, and I followed it to the printed pages beside her keyboard—my email outlining her duties, dense with text.
Seeing it laid out like that, I understood what she wasn’t saying.
The workload I’d given her was substantial.
If she wanted to actually complete it, eating her lunch away from her desk probably wasn’t optional.
A pang of something uncomfortable moved through my chest. Guilt, maybe.
No. This was the job. If she wanted to work for me, she’d have to adapt. I paid well enough to compensate for my expectations.
“What are you working on?” I asked, redirecting.
Raina turned her monitor so I could see the screen. “I’ve been switching you over to a new scheduling system.”
I frowned. “A new one? Why?”
“This one is better.” Her voice carried a confidence that hadn’t been there this morning. “I used it at my old job to manage the calendar of a very busy executive. Someone a lot like you.”
I came around her desk to get a closer look, and her perfume hit me—vanilla and something floral, warm and soft and distinctly feminine. I inhaled before I could stop myself, and for a moment, my thoughts scattered.
Focus, goddamn it. This wasn’t like me at all.
“See here?” Raina pointed to the screen, seemingly oblivious to the effect she was having on me, which I was grateful for.
“The interface is much more intuitive than what you’ve been using.
It integrates with your calendar to prevent double-booking and sends automated email reminders to clients before meetings.
” She clicked through a few screens. “There’s also a synced mobile app.
I’ll install it on your phone later today. ”
I studied the system, looking for flaws, for reasons to criticize the change. I’d been prepared to push back on her making alterations without permission.
Instead, I found myself reluctantly impressed.
Not that I was going to tell her that. Praising her work this early could lead to complacency, and the last thing I needed was an overconfident assistant who thought she’d already proven herself.
“Have you scheduled the meeting with Nexus Solutions’ CFO?” I asked instead. I’d given her that task this morning.
A flicker of annoyance crossed her face, there and gone so fast I almost missed it. “I sent him a message, but he hasn’t responded yet.”
I sighed. Not what I wanted to hear.
“I guess I’ll have to take care of it myself,” I muttered, already turning toward my office.
Raina heard, and before I’d taken three steps, she was in front of me, blocking my path.
The movement triggered a memory. Sarah, just last week, getting in my face before I fired her. And before that, a string of other assistants who’d called me a micromanager, who’d bristled at what they perceived as dismissive behavior.
I braced for anger. For accusations.
But Raina didn’t look angry. She stood before me with her hands on her hips, her chin lifted, her blue eyes steady on mine. Determined, not defensive.
“No,” she said firmly. “I’ll handle it.”
“I expected a meeting on the books by now.” The words came out more exasperated than I intended.
Raina squared her shoulders, and that stubborn set to her jaw intensified. “I expected that too. But I can’t control other people’s response times.” She held my gaze without flinching. “This is my job, Mr. Powers. You’re going to have to give me a chance to actually do it.”
“Haven’t I given you a chance? I assigned this task hours ago.”
Part of me knew I was being unreasonable. The rest of me was too focused on maintaining control, on ensuring everything was done correctly and not letting anything slip through the cracks.
“You’ve given me a task,” Raina said, her voice firm. Still no anger, just quiet resolve. “Now you need to give me time to complete it in a reasonable amount of time.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the truth of her words landed before I could speak. She was right. I was being unreasonable.
She must have seen the shift in my expression, because her posture softened slightly. A small smile curved her soft, kissable lips.
“Don’t worry about a thing,” she said. “I’ll get the meeting scheduled. You leave it to me.”
I couldn’t entirely silence the voice insisting I should handle it, but I reminded myself this wasn’t urgent. I needed to meet with the CFO soon, but soon didn’t mean today. I could give Raina a day or two to make it happen. If she didn’t, I’d step in.
“Fine,” I said.
She was already settling back into her chair, her attention returning to her computer screen as if the confrontation hadn’t happened. As if standing up to her brand-new boss on her first day was nothing remarkable.
Kurt was right. She was tough.
I retreated to my office and closed the door behind me, letting out a slow breath. I removed my jacket and dropped into my chair, ready to review the profit-and-loss analysis for our first portfolio company.
But my gaze caught on the plastic container still sitting on the corner of my desk.
I thought about Raina’s nervous chatter this morning. The way she’d rambled about her experience, about us being a great team, about her allegedly amazing cookies. She’d been trying so hard to make a good impression, and I’d given her nothing but a cold reception.
A small smile tugged at my mouth—unfamiliar, almost startling me.
I reached out and opened the container. The smell of chocolate hit me immediately, rich and sweet. I grabbed a cookie and took a bite, leaning back in my chair.
A low groan escaped me before I could stop it. Damn.
She wasn’t lying. The cookies were incredible.