Chapter 9
Nathan
O n Thursday, I purposely arrive early to the office. I wanted to beat Spencer in to avoid the awkward walk past her desk. Admittedly, I handled that like shit on Monday.
Obviously, I lied. Of course I remembered.
I spent the entire weekend thinking about her.
Sure, the indecent thoughts were speckled in here and there, but mostly I was trying to figure out what pushed me over the edge with Spencer.
For three years, dating was as appetizing as burnt toast. I had no desire to pursue it.
But something about Spencer coaxed the old me to the surface, even if for one night only.
It’s not a good thing. I felt out of control that night.
My thoughts and actions were far past the boundaries I’d clearly set for myself.
Elise had my heart. Has my heart. And now she’s gone.
I’m so tired of these assistants that walk in here, cozying up to me, as if they can replace her.
They’re told I’m a billionaire bachelor, and they’re shameless about taking their shot.
I should’ve been nicer to Corrine. She was forty-eight, happily married, and as disinterested in me as I was in her.
Or, maybe Timothy. He was dim-witted and utterly useless.
He wore Velcro shoes and I’m still convinced it’s because at twenty- two, he was incapable of tying shoelaces.
In hindsight, both were better options. Now I’m stuck with the sexy, curvy, accidental-temptress who made me trip over my own two feet.
As I enter my office, I pull my phone and wallet out of my pocket and toss them into the silver bowl on my desk. A bright, red bow catches my attention.
Sitting on top of my laptop is a brand-new iPhone with a large Christmas bow secured to the box. A folded note is tucked under the bow.
Spencer asked me to give this to you. She didn’t enter your office
“uninvited.”
-Dawn
P.S. Quit being a dick.
“Great,” I mutter to myself. Spencer already has Dawn on her side which doesn’t bode well for me.
There are very few people brave enough to verbally tear me a new one.
Dawn is at the top of that list, followed by my dad.
She’s been in my life since I was a teenager.
She’s more to us than an executive assistant or office manager; she’s family.
I pick up the boxed phone, still secure in shrink wrap.
Hm, maybe Spencer’s more well off than I realized.
I didn’t get that impression from her behavior at the club, then again, she recognized my watch.
Maybe she has some money if she can so easily buy an iPhone outright and hand it over as a gift.
If so, why the hell is she working as my assistant?
I grab the receiver from my office phone and hit speed dial three. Dawn picks up on the first ring. “Dawn Pryce.”
“What did Spencer say when she gave you this phone?”
“Good morning, Nathan. Might we start with pleasantries?”
“Sorry. Good morning. How was your flight?” Dawn accompanied Dad on an urgent trip to L.A.
to address a funding issue on one of the complexes he’s building.
Somehow they already blew through the entire construction budget and the townhouses are barely framed.
I almost feel bad for the project manager who took that ass-chewing.
“The flight was uneventful. I played a lot of Candy Crush. How’s your morning? Have you eaten? I’m about to pop out to grab a coffee and bagel for your father. Would you like anything?”
“No.” I pause. “Wait. A bagel, please.”
“Lox, no dill?”
“Yes.”
“And a cortado?”
I sigh defeatedly. “Yeah. Thank you.” This is why I don’t need an assistant. I can do everything myself and Dawn’s here to fill in the cracks.
“Okay. Give me thirty minutes.”
“Thanks.” I hang up the phone, then growl in frustration when I realize what just happened. I press speed dial three again.
“Yes, Nathan?”
“The phone. What did Spencer say it was for?” I wonder if she blabbed to Dawn about our encounter on Friday.
It makes me uncomfortable. Dawn and Elise were close.
I don’t want her to think I was out acting like some sort of party boy hitting on loose women.
I know she’s gone. I know, I know. But this shadow of guilt follows me everywhere I go.
“Spencer said she accidentally shattered your screen. She felt bad and was trying to make it right. I also have the gift receipt if you want to exchange it for a more whimsical color.” She cackles to herself, surely picturing me with an electric-blue phone which would be very out of character for me.
My style is minimalist, blacks and grays, clean lines, no fuss.
“That’s all she said? There has to be some ulterior motive.”
She issues a sharp, exasperated sigh into the receiver. “You know, Nathan, she’s a nice girl. And smart. While you’re over here pulling an Elsa, holing yourself up in your lonely ice castle, the rest of us are enjoying the company of your very sweet new assistant.”
“Mhm.”
“In case you’re confused, that was a reference from the movie Frozen— the first one, which is a masterpiece. The second one fell short.”
“For you. I enjoyed it.” Claire and I used to watch Frozen and Frozen 2 on repeat. But that’s when she was eight. I wonder if she even likes those movies anymore.
“My point is, cut Spencer some slack. So far she still doesn’t have access to your calendar, you don’t allow her in your office, and you haven’t forwarded one email to her. She just sits there, rotting.”
“I told Dad I didn’t want another assistant.”
“Yeah, and I don’t want varicose veins at age forty-four, but life is what it is.”
There’s an awkward silence between us. “I uh…” I clear my throat. “Are those painful?”
“No. Anyway, Spencer needs this job. She’s not a trust-fund baby. She has to work for everything she has. So let her work. You’re not the only one who has faced real tragedy.”
“What does that mean?” My mind starts to run in several directions. Spencer couldn’t afford this phone? What tragedy? Why does she really need this job?
“It’s not my place to say. I need to get going. I’m in no mood for your father’s hanger. But first, I need verbal confirmation that you’re going to speak to Spencer today. I don’t care if it’s a simple ‘hello.’ We’re done with the silent treatment. Capisce ?”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I will ensure the café burns your bagel to a crisp.”
I smile into the phone. “You’re a cruel, calculating woman, Dawn.”
“Goodbye, Nathan.”
I spend the next thirty minutes catching up on emails from the day before.
I insist on being CC’d on everything. I can’t keep up with the thousands of emails, but I do like receipts just in case.
There’s nothing that needs my attention except the mention of an introductory meeting with Casey next month.
I’m reminded of how shitty this situation is.
The least I can do is subtly warn Finn about the spy my father planted in his grandfather’s business.
I won’t be asking Casey for any information about Harvey and his business plans.
I intend to play fair. After grabbing my cell from the silver bowl, I shoot a message to Finn.
Me
Hey. Sorry I missed you at the party. Dinner on me when you’re back?
Finn
Did you show?
Me
For a minute. How’s Greece?
Finn
Incredible. Have you been?
Me
No, not yet.
Elise had always wanted to go. I offered her a honeymoon there, but she said she’d rather make it into a family trip.
Me, her, and Claire. Dammit. Why is she on my mind so heavily lately?
I’d been doing okay for a while. Now, I see her everywhere.
I nearly choked on my own spit when I saw Spencer holding her picture the other day.
That’s it, isn’t it? This all got worse after the night I met Spencer.
Me
I owe Avery a birthday present and you both a wedding present. What are you into?
Finn
Easy. Matching Lambos. Don’t skimp on the upgrades.
Me
Hilarious.
Finn
Kidding. No presents. It’s just good to hear from you, man. You’ve been quiet.
Me
Yeah, been busy.
Finn’s a guy’s guy. He gets it. When a man says things are “busy,” it just as easily translates to “dark.”
Me
Saw you at the club though. You seem happy. Avery’s a doll. Looks like you got a good one.
Finn
She’s my angel. Crazy how a good girl can turn it all around, you know?
Shit.
I meant because of my ex. I wasn’t trying to bring up anything.
Me
Don’t tiptoe. I’m all right. Very happy for you. Steaks when you’re back?
Finn
Yeah, definitely. But on me.
By the time I look up from my phone, Spencer’s seated at her desk.
She’s not smiling today. In fact, she looks disheveled.
If her lopsided ponytail and lack of makeup wasn’t a tip-off, the fact she’s wearing jeans is.
Monday through Wednesday she was dressed to the nines, like business Barbie.
Today she’s wearing an oversized, black Rolling Stones T-shirt.
I grab the phone off my desk and head through the double doors. Spencer is glued to her computer screen. Her eyes scan left and right, furiously reading whatever she has pulled up. I have to tap her desk to get her attention.
“Christ,” she gasps as her eyes grow wide as saucers. “I didn’t see you.”
I scan her head to toe. “The last Friday of every month is casual Friday. All other days we have a dress code.”
Her nostrils flare as she inhales slowly. “I’m aware, thank you. I had an emergency this morning.”
“What kind of emergency?”
Lips pressed tightly together, she gives me a disingenuous smile. “You’re awfully chatty this morning. Are you done pretending I don’t exist?”
I grind my teeth together to control my would-be smile. Something about her snark still intrigues me and I hate myself for it. “I’m returning this.” I place the phone on the edge of her desk, then slide it within her grasp. She doesn’t touch it.
“Go ahead. I believe Dawn gave you the gift receipt.”
“I’m returning it to you. I don’t know why you gave this to me.” Yes, I do. But I can’t admit that without owning up to the fact I’m well aware Spencer is the woman I was canoodling in the club last weekend. No way I can admit I still feel robbed of that first kiss.
Spencer shuts her laptop and swivels in her office chair to face me. Her big eyes become snake-like slits, sending a small shiver down my spine. “ Really, Nathan ? You don’t know why I felt the need to replace your phone?”
“No.” She clearly sees right through my lying. Only thing I can do now is double down. “You can’t buy my affection with gifts, Spencer. It’s inappropriate.”
From snake to owl, her eyes pop wide as she fixes her unblinking stare on me.
“Buy your affection? Are you freaking kidding me? I broke your phone in the club. I replaced it. That’s it.
My apologies in advance to your ego, but not every woman is staring at you with puppy-dog eyes begging for your affection.
” She flicks her fingers, sending the phone flying across the desk which skids to a stop right by my hand.
“Are you forgetting I’m your boss?”
“Are you though? I’m here to help, and you won’t let me.” She straightens her finger, the tip pointed at the box. “I thought if I righted my wrong, we could start over. I have thirty days to prove myself, and you haven’t given me a chance.”
“What?”
“ You haven’t given me anything to do. ” She speaks slowly, emphasizing the syllables as if I’m hard of hearing.
“And what exactly could you help me with today? Scoring front-row tickets to a rock concert?”
She shoves her hands under the desk, out of my view.
I wonder if they are balled up in frustration.
Maybe she’s fantasizing about socking me in the face.
“A pipe burst in my upstairs neighbor’s apartment.
I woke up to my closet flooded and all my clothes soaked.
This is the shirt I slept in and the only dry pair of pants I had. I’ll figure it out by tomorrow.”
“Oh. Okay. That’s fine.”
She shuts her eyelids tightly, her thick top and bottom lashes mashing into one. “Gee, thanks. If there’s nothing else…” She spins back around and reopens her laptop.
Is she dismissing me? What the fuck? “What did you mean by thirty days to prove yourself?”
“I’m on a trial period for thirty days. If I’m incapable of doing this job, my contract can be terminated.”
“And after the trial period?”
“You’re stuck with me.”
She looks up when I let out a whispered chuckle. “Was it really wise of you to tell me that?”
There’s not a hint of amusement on her face.
“First off, I assumed you were already familiar with the employment contract your company offered me, so I didn’t realize I was spilling secrets.
Second off, I’m trusting that while you haven’t exactly been pleasant, you’re not actually plotting against me. I haven’t done anything wrong…right?”
“Right,” I confirm half-heartedly.
Sorry, Spencer. I have about a million unsolvable problems—Claire’s abusive father coming back into the picture, my father’s impending marriage to a floozy, an overwhelming construction project with an impossible timeline.
But in regard to all these unwanted feelings she’s beginning to stir up?
Suddenly, my whole assistant situation seems very solvable.
Less than thirty days to make her job impossible to complete?
Yeah… Too fucking easy. I can definitely do that.