The Boss (The Assistant Series Book 3)

Chapter 1

Riley

“Don’t look so terrified, darling. We don’t bite.”

I clenched my hands into a tight fist in my lap and forced a smile. “I know.”

Celeste, the older of the sisters and the more flamboyant one with her bright pink hair, orange lipstick, and a multi-coloured muumuu that hurt my eyes, leaned forward in her chair to tap one short, blunt nail against the shiny surface of the desk.

“Darling, we’re not firing you. But Catherine and I think it’s time for a… talk.”

On cue, Catherine also leaned forward. Despite being the more practical sister with her silver hair and muted make-up, the nail she tapped on the desk was a long red painted dagger. “Riley, you have to choose someone, or we’ll fill your spot at the agency with another girl.”

“That kind of sounds like you’re firing me,” I said.

Catherine shrugged as Celeste gave her a look. “We don’t want to fire you, but we also can’t have someone at the agency who isn’t…”

“Bringing in money,” I said.

Catherine nodded. “Exactly. Honestly, I had reservations about accepting your application in the first place, but Celeste convinced me to give you a chance, which we have done for a month. You haven’t chosen a single client to service. It’s time to shit or get off the pot, Riley.”

I pinched my lips together and blinked rapidly to stop the tears so close to the surface. I never used to cry so easily, but that was before my mother’s cancer and the horrifying cost of treating it without health insurance. The stress, the fear that she would die because we couldn’t afford the chemo, had left me feeling as fragile and wobbly as a newborn colt.

“Darling, take this. You’re leaking a little.” Celeste waved a tissue at me, and I took it and dabbed at my watery eyes. I didn’t have time to mess up my makeup, not when I needed to return to my day job, my real job, in less than an hour.

Catherine studied me before turning to Celeste. “I told you this was a mistake. We should never have accepted her at the agency. She doesn’t want to be here.”

“I do,” I insisted.

“No, you need the money,” Catherine said, but not unkindly. “It was against my better judgment to hire you - desperation is not an attractive quality to our clients - but I’m still willing to keep you here if you choose someone today.”

I glanced at Celeste, hoping to appeal to her sensitive side, but Catherine shook her head. “Celeste agrees with me, Riley.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll review the candidates tonight and email you my choice.”

“No,” Catherine said. “You’ll choose here and now, or we end your contract before you leave the office.”

That familiar tightness of anxiety appeared in my belly. I couldn’t blame Catherine for her behaviour. She and Celeste had a business to run, and I had signed the contract of my own free will.

“Okay,” I said.

Catherine made a noise of approval and handed over the iPad. “I’ve pulled up all the candidates in our database who match with your kink. Look through them, please.”

My stomach churning, I scrolled through the twelve men and four women as the silence bore down on me, and the large office seemed to shrink to the size of a closet.

Celeste broke the silence as I started my second scroll. “Maybe Riley needs to take the test again.”

Catherine shook her head, her dark eyes drilling into my forehead. “No, the test is never wrong unless the applicant was lying. Were you lying on your test, Riley?”

“No, I was truthful,” I said.

“Then the test is correct,” Catherine said with satisfaction.

“She did chart on the impact play kink,” Celeste reminded her. “Maybe we should switch her in the database. We have plenty of clients looking for impact play.”

“No. She was off the charts for praise kink. One of the highest scores we’ve ever tested, Celeste. She’s exactly where she’s meant to be.”

I could feel my cheeks burning as I stared unseeingly at the iPad. I wasn’t the least bit surprised when Celeste gave me my test results. I may have never heard the term ‘praise kink’ before, but it described my… needs perfectly.

Growing up with an emotionally closed-off mother who gave out praise in tiny sips, and usually only when it served her, and a father who was more inclined to point out the ways I failed had left me aching for approval.

Once I was old enough to date, that need for approval and praise left me susceptible to men who used lavish praise at the beginning of our relationships to sucker me into believing they loved me, before withholding that praise to manipulate and gaslight me.

It was a horrible cycle I couldn’t seem to escape, and after my last boyfriend did a real number on my self-esteem, I’d given up on dating altogether. It’d been well over two years since I’d had a boyfriend, and I didn’t plan on changing that any time soon. Not with my track record and pathetic inability to recognize a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“Riley,” Catherine prompted. “Who are you choosing?”

“Oh, um… give me a minute,” I said as I frantically scrolled through the profiles for a third time. Most of the men were in their fifties or sixties, and eight of the twelve had a hard look in their eyes that made me nervous. Bending to their will because I was afraid not to wasn’t what I wanted.

I wanted to be someone’s… good girl because I wanted to please them, not because I was terrified.

I should just pick a woman, right? Except the idea of getting on my knees for a woman while she told me I was her good girl did nothing for me. I wouldn’t be able to keep up the charade, and then she’d complain to Celeste and Catherine, and I would definitely be fired from the agency.

“We need a decision,” Catherine said, her voice still kind but firm.

“Is there, um, anyone else I could look at it?” I asked.

Catherine gave me a level look. “If you expanded your list, you would have more to choose from. It would also increase your fee and give you a higher payout.”

“You mean if I’m willing to have sex with them,” I said.

Celeste winced. “Darling, please. You know we use the term personal time.”

“Right,” I said. The contract I signed was very clear that sex was not something the agency offered to clients, but agreeing to spend personal time with the client gave a woman an obscenely large boost in payment. And while Celeste and Catherine had never once alluded to it being sex, I wasn’t stupid. Naive, but not stupid.

“I’ve checked off nudity, hand, and oral… personal time,” I said. “You said that was enough for plenty of your clients.”

“It is,” Catherine said. “I’ve given you a list of nearly fifteen to choose from. All I’m saying is that if you alter your list, you’ll have another thirty to choose from.”

I hesitated before shaking my head. I might be willing to get on my knees for some stranger, let him see me nude, finger me, and suck his cock, but I couldn’t fuck him. I just couldn’t.

Even if it means your mother dies?

I winced. It wouldn’t come to that. The amount I would earn between my day job and this would be enough. It had to be.

“Oh,” Celeste said, pressing one hand to her gaudily coloured chest. “There is another we could offer her.”

“Who?” Catherine asked.

“Mr. Steele,” Celeste said.

“What? He’s finished with us, Celeste.” I could hear the surprise in Catherine’s normally unflappable voice.

“Actually, I’ve been in regular contact with him since the messy business with Eloise, and I’ve worked hard to convince him this would never happen again. It’s taken some time, but he’s willing to give us a second chance.”

“I’m not sure we should,” Catherine said.

“If we don’t, our perfect record will be broken,” Celeste said. “I don’t want that, and I know you don’t either. This is our chance to continue guaranteeing one hundred percent satisfaction to all our clients.”

Celeste eyed me up and down as I hovered over the iPad. “I think Riley would be perfect for him. She has the look he loves and, even better, she’s trainable, and Mr. Steele loves the challenge of newbies.”

I flinched, biting back my “I’m not a dog” retort. Truthfully, I was brand new to this, and it might be better to have someone more accepting of the mistakes I was bound to make.

“The sex thing will be an issue,” Catherine said.

“It won’t,” Celeste said. “He’s altered his preferences to no sex. Probably because of the Eloise mess.”

Catherine’s usually stoic face actually showed some emotion. “This could work. This could work very well, in fact, to get us back into his good graces.”

She stared at me over the desk. “Mr. Steele doesn’t like brats, but I don’t think that will be a problem with you. Will it?”

“I, well, uh, no… I don’t think so,” I said. “Why would I be a brat when he’s giving me what I’m looking for?”

“You’d be surprised,” Catherine said. “Some girls with a praise kink enjoy being brats. It makes the praise when they’re well behaved that much sweeter to them. Which is fine, but Mr. Steele is a client we would very much like to keep happy, and he does not like brats.”

“I’m not a brat,” I said softly as Catherine motioned for me to give her the iPad. I handed it over, hoping like hell that I was right about the brat thing. I didn’t think I was, but maybe I was, and that was part of the reason I disappointed my parents and all my previous boyfriends.

Catherine handed me the iPad, and I looked at the screen. The air was sucked out of my lungs, and my jaw dropped as I stared at the man looking back at me. He looked in his early thirties with dark hair cut short, an angled jaw, and dark brown eyes. He was handsome. Downright beautiful, in fact, and something in my lower belly twisted. Unlike my profile picture, his picture cut off just below his chest, but I had no doubt that his body was perfect. His shoulders were broad, and the dark blue Henley he wore emphasized his wide chest and muscular upper arms. Just thinking that this god of a man might tell me I was his good girl made my clit come alive with little pulses of pleasure. I squeezed my thighs together to ease the way my clit suddenly ached.

I was being ridiculous anyway. Mr. Steele would take one look at my full body profile picture and decline. A man like him would want perfection, and my round belly and lack of thigh gap were far from perfect.

“What do you think?” Celeste asked.

“He’s handsome,” I said.

“He’s one of our better looking clients,” Catherine acknowledged. “He’s looking for a secretary for his play scenes, which shouldn’t be an issue for you.”

I coughed nervous laughter. “No, not at all.”

“If he has the same schedule preference, he’ll want you for one two-hour session on a weekday evening and another on Sunday afternoon. I know you’ve said only weekends, but one evening a week would give you a bump in pay,” Catherine said.

“I could do an evening a week as long as he’s okay with a potential last-minute schedule change if I have to work longer at my day job,” I said.

“I’m sure he would be accommodating. Should I send him your profile information?” Celeste asked.

“Yes,” I said as a weird combination of disappointment and relief washed over me. Mr. Steele wouldn’t want me, giving me a day or two of breathing room before I had to choose another. Maybe by then, there would be another on the list that I’d want to … service.

“Good,” Catherine said briskly, taking back the iPad. “We’ll send Mr. Steele your information, and if he chooses you, we’ll email you the details.”

“Thank you.” I stood, my knees weirdly wobbly. “I appreciate you giving me an extra chance.”

I meant what I said, and perhaps Catherine heard the sincerity in my voice because her face softened slightly. “You’re welcome, Riley.”