Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
Iwake up to the smell of coffee.
“Happy first day,” Andrew says, holding out a steaming mug.
I blink up at him from his bed, still half buried under the sheets. His shirt isn’t buttoned all the way, his tie is still undone, and his hair is slightly damp from the shower.
“Thank you,” I mumble, sitting up and taking the cup from him.
The coffee is exactly how I like it, which is to say, more cream and sugar than coffee. I take a sip and hope it does something about the small, frantic bird currently trapped inside my rib cage.
It’s been a month since I got the job in Communications, and the last few weeks have been spent trying to make the transition to a new assistant as smooth as possible.
I have written detailed instructions. I have made lists.
I have color-coded files. I have created a document so thorough it should probably be studied by future historians.
In between all of that, I have also spent many, many nights at Andrew’s apartment.
Let’s just say the schedule isn’t needed anymore.
I haven’t had a fever in over a month, which Dr. Shaw finds “encouraging” and I find extremely satisfying. Andrew makes sure it stays that way. Often. Sometimes more than once a day. Sometimes more than twice, if he’s feeling particularly committed to my health.
We’re a new couple, okay?
We fuck like bunnies.
HR knows about us, which makes the whole thing technically above board, but we’ve kept the relationship quiet until I officially leave my role as his assistant.
No flirting at work, no dates in public, and definitely no disappearing into his office to do highly inappropriate things on his desk.
Even though I think about it. Extensively.
Sneaking around has been fun. Exciting, even. There’s something weirdly thrilling about standing beside him in the elevator, acting normal while knowing he had his mouth on my inner thigh a few hours earlier.
But I’m glad it’s over.
Because today, I am officially Carly Michaels, Communications Coordinator.
And tonight, Andrew is taking me out to dinner to celebrate. A real date at a real restaurant with reservations and everything.
I can’t wait.
But first, I have to get through the day.
Andrew sits on the edge of the bed beside me, close enough that his thigh brushes my hip through the sheets. “Nervous?”
“No.”
He looks at me.
“Fine. Yes.” I take another sip of coffee.
His mouth twitches, and he reaches out to move a strand of hair away from my face. “You’ll do well.”
“You have to say that because you’re sleeping with me.”
“I don’t have to say anything.” His thumb brushes once over my cheek before he drops his hand. “You earned this.”
“Yeah,” I say, smiling into my coffee.
I fucking did.
He studies me for a beat, then stands and reaches for his tie. “We have forty-five minutes before we have to leave. You should probably utilize that time.”
My eyes turn into slits. “What do you mean by that?”
He doesn’t say anything. Just looks pointedly at my hair.
I throw a pillow at him.
By the time we get to BenCo, I have managed to shower, dress, do my makeup, and tame my hair into something that could reasonably be described as intentional. Andrew drives with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on my thigh, his thumb moving absently over my knee at every red light.
He drops me off at the front entrance instead of pulling into the executive garage, because we agreed that arriving together on my first official day in Communications might be a little much.
For the first time in three years, I press a different button in the elevator.
Communications is already buzzing when I arrive. Someone is laughing near the printer, someone else is on the phone discussing a community newsletter, and two people are arguing over whether the phrase “meaningful dialogue” sounds sincere or like something a hostage negotiator would say.
There’s a small plant on my new desk, a welcome card signed by the team, and a stack of folders with a sticky note on top.
Welcome to the chaos
Marissa appears beside me with a paper cup in her hand. “Welcome, officially.”
“Thank you,” I say, accepting the coffee even though I have already had one in the CEO’s bed this morning. Which I obviously don’t disclose, even though I guess it wouldn’t matter as much anymore. I don’t report to him.
Except sometimes in bed, when we’re feeling frisky.
The day passes in a rush of introductions, passwords, system access, project folders, and people telling me things I absolutely will not remember in five minutes.
I learn where the good coffee is, which printer hates everyone, and that the plant on my desk is from the social media specialist, who says it’s almost impossible to kill.
She clearly doesn’t know the level of botanical violence I’m capable of.
At lunch, I go to the cafeteria. I look toward the tables where IT usually sits, and when Josh isn’t there, a warm, petty little glow spreads through my chest.
Fuck that man.
I hope he never finds another job.
I eat lunch with two women from Communications who ask me whether I’ve figured out which printer is evil yet, and when I say I thought all office printers were evil, one of them nods as if I’ve passed a test.
Ah, corporate humor.
It’s so lame.
I love it.
At five thirty, I’m packing up when my phone buzzes with an incoming text.
Andy
Downstairs
When I reach the lobby, he’s standing near the front doors in a dark coat, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone. A few people glance at him as they pass. It’s not every day you see the CEO standing in the lobby, loitering.
He puts his phone away when he sees me. “How was your first day?”
I clutch my bag strap, suddenly nervous in an entirely different way. “Good.”
“Good?”
“Really good,” I say, and the smile that spreads across my face is impossible to stop. “I think I might actually like my job.”
“Ouch.”
I smile. “Sorry.”
“Ready for dinner?”
I glance around the lobby. People are still moving past us. BenCo people. People who know him. People who probably know me, or at least know of me.
I reach for his hand.
Andrew looks down as my fingers slide between his, and for half a second, he goes completely still. Then his hand closes around mine, warm and certain.
There it is.
Our announcement.
“Where are we going?” I ask as he leads me toward the doors.
“You’ll see.”
“That’s a concerning answer from a man with too much money.”
His mouth curves. “You’ll like it.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you, Carly.”
Outside, the evening air is cool against my face, and the street is full of traffic, footsteps, and people heading home from jobs they may or may not hate.
For years, I walked out of this building feeling wrung out and stuck.
Tonight, I walk out with a smile on my face.