Chapter One
Derek
“You are such an asshole! ”
I blink calmly at the woman standing in my office, her eyes flashing with indignation and anger, her breath coming fast, and her hands in fists at her sides. I can’t remember her name for the life of me, but she’s worked for me as an assistant for less than a week.
If looks could kill, I’d be a bloody heap on my desk.
“Your point?” I ask, tipping an eyebrow and finding it mildly amusing when her cheeks flush an even deeper red. I didn’t think that was possible.
“I fucking quit,” she says, her chest heaving. “No wonder you can’t keep an assistant. Since you’re British and everything, I thought you’d at least be polite, but the only thing the accent does for you is make you sexy. And trust me, all that goes right out the window as soon as you say anything, which is a shame. You’re demanding and rude and so freaking… mean . What the hell is wrong with you?”
I sigh wearily and flick my hand her way.
“Off with you, then. I’ve no time to listen to your whining.”
“ Whining ?”
“Yes. Get your things and get the fuck out of my office.”
Seething, she glares at me for a full three seconds before stomping out of my office and slamming the door behind her.
I simply pick up the phone and call the temp agency.
“This is Britney Carter. How may I help you?”
“Derek Langley,” I reply, and if I’m not mistaken, Ms. Carter sighs on the other end of the line. “I need a new assistant.”
“What happened to Chloe?”
Ah, yes, her name was Chloe.
“That wasn’t a good fit. She’s already quit.”
“Mr. Langley, you’ve run through most of my available people. There’s one person I can call, but she won’t be in Seattle until Monday.”
“It’s Tuesday,” I remind her.
“I’m aware.” Her voice is dry. “Perhaps if you were a little kinder, you wouldn’t blow through assistants so fast.”
“Perhaps if you had some people with thicker skin, they wouldn’t run out of here like rabbits.”
“Mr. Langley.” She sounds weary now. “I’ll send over one more person, but if this goes as the rest have, you’ll have to look elsewhere. I can’t keep sending people into a hostile work situation.”
“This is not a hostile situation. Is it wrong of me to expect competency? A decent work ethic?”
“No, but it’s wrong to yell at them.”
I blow out an impatient breath. I don’t have time for this, especially not now when I’ll be working on my own for the rest of the week.
“Fine,” I reply between clenched teeth. “I’ll coddle the next girl.”
Britney laughs. “Right. I’ll have someone there Monday morning. Have a good week.”
Hanging up, I turn in my desk chair to stare out my office window. I’m due in court in an hour, but I need a minute to take in my view of Puget Sound and clear my head. I rarely keep an assistant for longer than a few weeks. I did have Mrs. Wilshire for several years, but she finally retired to spend time with her grandchildren.
Mrs. Wilshire didn’t take any crap from me and knew her job well. We had a working relationship that was easy and mutually beneficial. I was disappointed to see her go, even more so when the temp agency I work with continued to send me people who didn’t know an affidavit from a grocery list.
With a sigh, I return to my computer and open my email, determined to get a good amount of work done before I need to leave the office. I can only hope the next assistant is at least competent.
* * * *
It has not been a good week. I couldn’t find anything in my office, mostly because I haven’t had time to file anything, and I don’t have anyone to do it for me. I’ve missed important calls, forgot about one meeting altogether, and have a migraine the size of sodding Russia that’s been living in my head since Tuesday night.
I’m in no mood to be at a business dinner with a powerful, high-paying client and his daughter, especially when it isn’t a business meeting at all but a ploy to set me up with said daughter—whom I have no interest in whatsoever.
“With MaryJane taking over my business next year, I thought it was important for the two of you to meet and get acquainted,” Harold says with a sly smile.
“I see.” I look at the woman in question. “Have you been kept apprised of your father’s legal issues thus far, Ms. Sylvester?”
“MJ,” she says with a smile. “Everyone calls me MJ. Well, except for Daddy.”
Harold nods approvingly. “I think I’ll leave the two of you to it,” he says as he stands, and I can’t help but blanch.
“Sir, you’ll have information and insight to share in this conversation.”
“I don’t think I will.” He winks at me and smiles at his daughter. “I’ll leave my card with the waitress. Have fun, you two.”
He walks away, leaving me feeling trapped and more than a little pissed off. I’ll be parting ways with Harold’s company on Monday. This is absurdly unprofessional and a waste of my time.
“So,” MJ says as she scoots a little closer to me and leans forward, showing off her impressive tits. “Tell me all about yourself, Derek.”
“There isn’t much to say.” I drink my water and wish for a whiskey, but the alcohol will only make the migraine worse. “Now, about the business.”
She snorts, already three drinks in, and shakes her head. “I think we both know I don’t give a rat’s ass in hell about the business. I’ll hire people to handle it when Daddy retires next year.”
“Then why are we here?”
“Because I wanted to see you again.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “We’ve never met.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” She sips her martini and eyes me with predatory brown eyes. “We were briefly introduced at a holiday party last year.”
I frown, not remembering that at all. MJ is beautiful, but she’s loud, entitled, and not the type of woman I pay attention to.
“My apologies,” I reply. “I meet a lot of people at those parties.”
“Ouch.” She scowls. “I believe I was just told that I don’t stand out.”
I let my gaze roam over her perfectly styled brunette hair, pretty face, curvy figure, and mentally shrug. She’s fine . Nothing particularly special about her. Sure, she might be a decent shag, but I’m not interested in going there with her. She doesn’t do anything for me.
MJ’s fingers dance up my arm, and she smiles coyly. I have no physical reaction to her whatsoever.
“We could go to my place,” she coos. “It’s a ten-minute cab ride away.”
“MJ.” I take her hand off my arm and gently place it on the table. I don’t want to be unkind, but I also want to make it clear that I’m not interested. Now or ever. “Thank you for the generous offer, but I’ll have to pass.”
Her smile vanishes, leaving a blank, confused expression on her face.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Did I mention that she’s entitled? Add spoiled to that.
“I’d be happy to escort you home to make sure you get there safely since you’ve had a few drinks.”
“But you don’t want to fuck me once we get there?”
I glance around and notice that the people at several tables close to ours heard the remark.
Of course, she said it so loudly it wouldn’t surprise me if they’d heard her out on the street.
“No, I don’t.”
She scoffs and drains her martini glass. “Why?”
“MJ, let’s not make this uncomfortable—”
“Oh, no. Let’s.” Her smile turns snide and mean. “Why in the world wouldn’t you want a piece of this? I would rock your world and have you begging for more. Your dick doesn’t know what it’s missing.”
My dick is thanking me for taking mercy on it right now.
I lean in so the tables around us can’t hear, and with a low, hard voice, say, “Because I’m not interested in women who have so little self-respect they would ask their father to lure me to a restaurant under the guise of a business meeting, and then basically throw themselves at me as soon as we’re alone. It’s not sexy, it’s not flattering, and it makes you look desperate.”
Her mouth gapes, but I simply shake my head and lean back in my chair.
“Do you wish to have an escort home or not?”
“Fuck you,” she says and flags down the waitress. “I’ll have another one of these.”
“Charming. I’ll leave you to your dinner, then.”
“You son of a bitch,” she growls, glaring at me. “I’ll make sure my father fires you.”
“I’ve already drafted my resignation,” I reply. When she gasps in surprise, I stand and stride away from the table and out the door into the wet, rainy Seattle air. “Bloody hell.”
* * * *
I’ve been in my office since six this morning. It’s just before eight when I hear the outer door open. I stand from my desk, cross through the open door separating my office from the reception area and see a woman standing just inside.
She has dirty-blond hair swept back into a low ponytail at her nape. She’s wearing minimal makeup and clothes that are almost too casual for the office setting. They don’t fit her well or flatter her curvy frame in any way.
But when she sees me, she smiles brightly.
“Hi, I’m Maya Sterling,” she says, crossing to shake my hand. Her grip is firm and confident, and her eyes never leave mine as she introduces herself.
So far, so good.
“Derek Langley.”
“I figured,” she replies with a grin. “It’s interesting how this practice is set up, with everyone having their own separate offices. It makes it feel like you’re a private practice.”
I narrow my eyes, surprised. “Do you have a background in law?”
“My brother does,” she says with a shrug. “Anyway, I’m your sub.”
And just like that, this woman manages to do what the one from Friday night couldn’t in a million years. She’s the opposite of MJ. Almost…guileless.
She makes my cock twitch.
“Excuse me?”
“You know, your substitute.” She frowns. “No, that’s not right. Your temp!” Her face brightens once more. “Sorry, early morning with little coffee. I’m your temp.”
With a shake of her head, she laughs and crosses to the reception desk.
“Is this mine?”
“Yes. Make yourself comfortable. There’s a wet bar with coffee in my office. Feel free to use it.”
“Oh, thanks. Appreciate it. Let me just get settled, and I’ll be in to get my marching orders.”
“Very well.”
I nod once and return to my office but don’t sit at my desk. Instead, I stand at the windows, shove my hands in my pockets, and stare out at the gray spring day.
I don’t believe I’ve ever had this kind of visceral reaction to a woman within the first several minutes of meeting her.
And she’s my bloody assistant.
“Would you like coffee?” she asks as she bustles into my office and heads straight for the coffee maker. “Is that part of my assistant duties?”
“No.” My voice sounds hard, but damn it, I don’t want to want her. I just want her to do her goddamn job without her feelings getting hurt every twelve minutes. “I’ll get my own coffee.”
She turns and raises a brow at me, seemingly unaffected by my gruff tone.
“Okay.” She finishes assembling her drink and then sits across from me, taking a sip and then looking around my desk as if searching for something.
“What do you need?”
“Coaster.” She sips again. “I don’t want to make a ring on this gorgeous desk. Is it an antique? It looks Edwardian.”
I frown at her and then at my big, sturdy—and yes, antique—desk. She knows about antique furniture?
“Uh, indeed, it is.” I’d like to do things to her on this desk, but I just frown down at the mahogany. “No coaster. Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay, but you don’t want a permanent ring on it.” With a shrug, she sets the mug down and opens her iPad, tapping the screen and then poising the pencil over it. “I’m ready when you are.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to take notes.”
“Why?”
She lifts an eyebrow again, but the humor never leaves her eyes.
“Blue.” My voice randomly breaks into the silence, startling us both.
“Sorry?” She frowns in confusion.
I shake my head. “Your eyes are blue.”
“Kind of gray, really, from what I’m told. But anyway, I’m going to take notes because you’re going to tell me what my job is here since I’ve lost the ability to read minds. I traded it in for my sparkling personality.”
She smiles and bats those intriguing eyelashes. Suddenly, my stomach feels like it’s been twisted into a knot.
I clear my throat and begin telling her what I expect from her each day.
She busily takes notes on her iPad, and when I’ve finished, she only nods slowly.
“There will be other things as I think of them.”
“Sure, makes sense.” She nibbles on the end of the pencil. I can see just the tip of her pink tongue, and it’s almost my undoing.
I’ve never had a hard-on for an assistant before.
“Do you have any questions?” My voice is harsh again, like the crack of a whip, but it doesn’t seem to faze her as she slowly looks up at me.
“Not yet, but I’m sure I will eventually. Don’t worry, I’m not shy about asking for help. Do I have your schedule on my computer out there?”
“Yes.”
“Great.” She stands and tucks her iPad under her arm, then lifts her coffee mug, taking it with her as she strides out of my office.
When she referred to herself as my sub , I’d almost bent her over my desk just to test the waters.
Which is absolutely ridiculous and out of line. She works for me, nothing more.
And yet, there’s a pull there.
I shake my head and open my computer. It doesn’t matter if there’s an attraction—which still shocks the shite out of me because she’s my employee, and I don’t have time to pursue anything with anyone. Even if it’s only sex.
I just need her to do her damn job.
* * * *
This has been the most productive week I’ve had since Mrs. Wilshire left. Maya is efficient and organized, and I don’t hate having her around.
Aside from the fact that I want to fuck her seven ways to Sunday, despite her poor taste in wardrobe.
“What are you staring at?” she asks as she walks into my office. Maya speaks to me as if she’s known me for years. I’ve decided I don’t hate the familiarity.
“The city.”
“I can see that,” she replies. “But you always seem to be looking in the same direction. What’s so interesting out there?”
I gesture for her to join me at the window. She obliges, her back to me as she stares at the city below.
I step up behind her and immediately smell vanilla and strawberries. My fingers itch to embrace her hips, but I shove my hands in my pockets.
Maya’s much shorter than my six-feet-two, and I can look over her head at the view beyond.
“There’s a ferry right over there that takes the same route several times a day. I usually catch it when it’s coming or going.” I point over her shoulder and see her smile in the reflection.
“It’s soothing,” she says. “My parents live on Lake Coeur d’Alene. And I have to say, I love the water. It always settles my nerves.”
I have a house on Lake Washington for the same reason.
Suddenly, she glances up at me over her shoulder. “Where do you live?”
I scowl down at her. “That’s none of your business.”
Rather than take offense, Maya simply shakes her head. “I was just curious because you should live somewhere with a water view since you seem to love it so much. I will someday.”
Shit, now I want to know where she lives.
She turns in front of me and looks up to tell me something, but she pauses, her pupils dilating as her gaze drops to my mouth.
I’m not the only one who feels the chemistry between us.
“What do you need?” I ask, my hands still shoved firmly in my pockets.
“I was just—” She licks her lips, and I have to restrain myself from pushing her against the window and plundering her mouth. “Just going to tell you to have a good weekend. It’s about time to go home for the day.”
“Oh.” I nod and step back so she can easily move past me. “Have a good weekend.”
“Thanks.” She smiles as she walks. “Do you have big plans?”
“That’s—”
“None of my business,” she finishes for me. “Yeah, yeah. It’s called polite conversation, Mr. Langley.”
“Derek,” I correct her, surprising both of us if the look on her face is anything to go by. I never tell my assistants to address me by my first name.
“Derek.” Shit, the sound of my name on her lips is sexy as hell. Why did I tell her to call me that? “I hope you have a good weekend, whatever your plans are.”
My teeth are clenched so tightly that I’m surprised they don’t break as I watch her walk to my door. She turns back and smiles.
“See you on Monday.”
“See you.” I nod once, and then she’s gone. I let out a long, slow breath.
I’m well and truly fucked when it comes to Maya Sterling.