Chapter 4
FOUR
The following day, I still couldn’t figure out why I had decided to hire Calla Winters. Maybe it was sleep deprivation; maybe it was stress-induced psychosis. Or perhaps I had just lost my mind. There was no logical explanation as to why I decided to hire a woman completely unqualified for working in my office. I ran my hand through my hair, trying to get the image of her out of my mind. I mean, she almost burst into tears in the interview. What were the odds that she’d last more than a day working with me?
Maybe it was the guilt that led to me hiring her. I was used to speaking to my grunts in a certain way, not caring what impression I left behind. My previous assistant was good about bringing me back down, calling me out when I got too stressed and short with others. She would have killed me if she saw how I acted with Calla.
My bad mood didn’t even have anything to do with Calla’s interview. That was courtesy of the back-to-back lousy news I’d received that morning. First, my ex-wife was contesting her alimony payments, claiming they weren’t enough to support her in her lifestyle. What fucking bullshit. The excessive amount I already paid her was enough to take her latest boy-toy on a month-long tour of India, but what would I know?
But that call was expected. Anytime something positive came up in my life, Natalie decided to destroy it. The word vindictive wasn’t enough to describe that woman.
No, that phone call wasn’t the one to devastate me. That one was courtesy of my now-former assistant, who decided she wasn’t able to make the move to New York after all. Now, I was stuck here, completely alone and hating every minute of it.
Maybe that was why I took Calla up on her offer. My initial instinct was to usher her out the door; there was no use for someone so green. But when her voice started to break, something in me did as well. It was odd; empathy wasn’t one of my strengths. Maybe it was a result of working alone for the past few weeks. I was so desperate for human contact that I was willing to lower my usual expectations of my employees.
When I arrived at the office that morning, the elevator doors dinged open, and I was pleasantly surprised that I wasn’t the first one in. Calla smiled brightly at me from the reception area, grabbing the two coffee cups waiting on the counter behind her.
“You look surprised,” she smirked as she passed me one of the white and blue paper cups.
“I’m not used to seeing someone else here,” I answered honestly. I took a long sip of the beverage Calla made for me, but my whole face contorted. “This is horrible.”
Calla grimaced. “Sorry, Mr. Ayad. I wasn’t sure what kind of coffee you liked, so I went with black.”
My brow arched. “Is that the impression I give?” She shrugged, following me as I turned down the hall. “In the future, cream and sugar. Nothing over the top, but I need a little more than just plain coffee to start my day.”
She pulled out a notepad from her cardigan pocket, quickly jotting down the order. I couldn’t help but smirk. It reminded me of my mother, how she was always bringing home her checkbook after long nights of waitressing. At the thought, my throat tightened, a wave of grief washing over me before I cleared my throat, willing it away.
I led Calla into my office, motioning for her to take a seat as I got settled behind my desk. She tapped her pen on the notepad. “So, boss. What do you need me to do first?”
I thumbed through my papers, reviewing the various stacks of documents I’d haphazardly piled there last night. I put my finger on the largest stack, dozens of file folders waiting to be looked through. “These are all the recent client intake files. The LA office sent us a bunch of people located in the city, and we need to start evaluating to see if anyone is worth a meeting. Scan each one of these and create some kind of document to help me wade through the requests.”
Calla started to reach out to take them, but I shoved my hand on top again. “Normally, I’d make you sign an NDA, but I have too much to do to draw up the paperwork now.”
“Ah, yes.” Calla smirked. “I’ve heard all about your infamous NDAs.”
“A requirement in this line of business, I’m afraid.” I tapped the files with my thumb. “I’m trusting you, Miss Winters.”
She shook her head. “Mr. Ayad, I promise that I do not have any intentions of betraying your trust. No offense, but I’m not really interested in your secrets.” She winked. “Just the paycheck.”
She slid out of my office, dropping the files on top of one of the empty desks outside. After leaning back in her chair, she pulled the top folder into her lap and started reading.
As the morning moved along, I tried to focus on my list of tasks, but for some reason, my eyes kept getting pulled back to Calla. It had to be a morbid curiosity, one that came when my initial impression was so off. I had doubts that she would even show up today, much less beat me to the office. It was only the first morning, but she was already defying my expectations. Time would tell if she would keep it up, but something told me she would.
During her interview, Calla tried to appear confident and strong, but there was a quiet doubt that filled her eyes, especially when I brought up her work history. She’d visibly flinched at my harsh words, a slight I’d regretted since they slipped out of my mouth. At first, I thought it was because she had little work ethic, relying on her parents’ money to coast through life. But if this morning was any indication, Calla was a hard worker and wanted to prove herself.
As my mind wandered, wondering what had caused Calla to come to the city without a job, a voice called out from the other side of the doorway.
“Excuse me, Mr. Ayad?” I lifted my gaze away from my desk. Calla toyed with the end of her hair as she stood at my door, wrapping an auburn lock around her finger. “If you don’t mind, I have a question.” I nodded, allowing her to continue. Her nose wrinkled as she looked around my office. “Who decorated this place?”
“No one,” I answered honestly. “Most of this furniture was left from the previous tenant. It was easier to keep it than to replace everything.”
“Oh,” Calla sighed, shifting her hands down to fumble with her dress pockets .
“You don’t approve?” I asked, leaning forward in my chair.
“It’s not that,” she said. “It’s just….”
“Stale?”
“Boring,” she answered. “Looking through these files, I don’t know—these are people chasing their dreams; they’re bold and unafraid.” She grimaced, looking around the room. “This place looks like the land where dreams go to die.”
I chuckled at her words. “And what would you do differently?”
She smiled at me. “If I was the one in charge, I would start by adding some color to the walls. More artwork, maybe some candid photographs of different clients if they were willing.” She shrugged. “Different things to make it cozier, more welcoming.”
“I’ll take it under consideration.” I turned back to my computer, but something nagged at me as she turned back to leave. “Calla, wait,” I called out. Sighing, I reached into my wallet, pulling out one of the corporate cards. “When you finish with the files, see if you can find some pieces to make this place feel less boring .”
She tucked her lip between her teeth as she stepped closer to my desk. I pulled the card back before she could take it.
“Do not make me regret this.”
Calla’s lip curled into a devious smile. “Don’t worry, Mr. Ayad. I have excellent taste.”
“What the fuck…” I whispered as I walked into my office a couple of days later. The room was unrecognizable. It looked like someone had broken in, but instead of stealing from me, they replaced all my furniture.
Gone was the black leather couch, replaced by a much more comfortable and warm-looking brown loveseat and two armchairs. There was even a new rug in the middle of my office, lines of dark red and brown weaved together in an intricate pattern. Framed artwork lined my walls, and my collection of signed photographs from my clients had migrated from a box in my apartment to a shelf on the far side of the room.
What the fuck had she done?
“Calla!” I yelled into the hallway. There was only one person who could be responsible for this: the woman who had somehow managed to convince me to give her the corporate credit card, as well as a key to my apartment and the office, within hours of working here. What the fuck had she slipped into my coffee?
Three days. Calla had worked for me for three days, and she was already causing chaos. Marie had asked to redecorate my office for years, and I always declined. I liked my things a certain way, needing order to function correctly. Now, it looked like Pottery Barn had thrown up in my space. When I told her she could buy some things for the office, I assumed she’d buy a couple of paintings, maybe some new furniture for the lobby. I didn’t think she’d do this.
Calla stepped into my office and dropped into the armchair across from me. “Yes, Mr. Ayad?”
I stepped over to my desk, placing my hands on the cool, smooth surface. I tried to breathe to calm the fury inside of me. I wanted to scream. I wanted to fire her.
And with that smug smile on her face, I wanted to bend her over that chair and slap her ass until my handprint was branded on her skin.
What the hell?
I wished I could say this was the first time I’d had an inappropriate thought about my cheeky new assistant. I blamed the tight little skirts and dresses she insisted on wearing. Maybe I could convince her to try a new style, one that didn’t make her subtle curves drive me to distraction.
I shook my head, trying to recenter. “What did you do?”
“It looks great, right?” Calla smiled. “Less sterile and more personality. It’ll be good for your clients to feel comfortable here. How much do you love it?”
I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Calla…” I sighed, drawing out each syllable. “I meant making sure we had enough computers, enough equipment for everyone, make sure that the conference room is good to go. Not redecorate my fucking office.” Each word was a struggle, and I was barely keeping my temper in check. “I should fire you.”
I swore she rolled her eyes. After a couple of days of working together, Calla had grown more comfortable around me, at least enough to give back some attitude when I said something she didn’t like, which was apparently often.
“But you won’t,” Calla answered. “Because you know I’m right, and this place looks a million times better. If you’re going to fire me, at least fire me for a real reason, Mr. Ayad.”
She had me there. I ran my hand over my face. “Fine. For future reference, I like my space a certain way.”
Calla nodded, her smile much bolder than when she first walked into the room. Without another word, she stood, heading back to the area she’d carved for herself. I felt a strike in my chest when I realized she’d barely done anything for her work area, focusing on my space instead.
I dropped into my chair, looking around at all the new items. This office was much more comfortable. Even I’d felt on edge working here before, hating all the bland colors and minimal furniture.
Now, it felt homey, like a place I could put in long hours. Calla matched everything she picked to my style. I had no idea how she knew what to look for, but everything was what I would have picked myself. Calla had done an amazing job. If she could do this to the rest of the office, people would be flocking from LA to work here.
If only my pride would let me admit it to her.