15

I sit and pay attention as we eat from the breakfast buffet; the business merger sounds promising, and I take keynotes on things he will want to recap. I listen intently to them thrash through proposals and possibilities with enthusiasm and see that these men are genuine friends. They have a rapport you can only find between people who know each other well. Sarcasm and banter are interlaced with business talk; Jake is ‘one of the guys’ when around Daniel.
I can’t help but notice as I’ve been sitting cross-legged that Daniel Hunter has not concealed his open appraisal of me, his eyes following my legs and arms intrusively as Jake outlines some business points. He makes my skin crawl, and I’m doing my best to ignore him. I catch Jake glance my way a couple of times with an unreadable expression before looking back at his friend.
I look up occasionally from note-taking and am intrigued by the differences between them. The friendship seems genuine, but I don’t see the connection, and it interests me.
The way Jake just occupies a space, effortlessly cool and sprawled out, he always looks so laid back and comfortable in all surroundings, even at work. Right now, his feet, crossed at the ankles, are on the coffee table; he’s sitting low down in the armchair like an adolescent, with his forearms resting on the arms of the chair. His head is nuzzled in the cushioned back, yet he still has an air of capability and command. He’s just so at ease and still. I guess he’s always been comfortable in his skin and probably has had adoring girls throwing themselves at him from a very early age. A blessed life instilling this self-assurance.
Daniel, on the other hand, is more hyperactive and fidgety. Sitting straight up on the couch and leaning forward away from the back, he moves a lot when he talks and behaves over-energetically when his interest is piqued. I wonder if he’s a firm member of the ‘Charlie’ culture among the rich and famous. Cocaine use is common; I’ve seen a lot of it in the ladies’ bathrooms at the glitzy Carrero parties, events, and promotions. I glance at Jake, wondering if he’s someone who uses it too, and I get a heavy ache in my chest. I hope he’s not; I’ve always had zero tolerance for drug use.
When we’re done, Jake stands and stretches his arms up, revealing a tiny inch of the naked, toned abdomen above his jeans, and it takes all my strength not to inhale sharply. I’m beyond mortified at my reaction but hide it well. I’ve seen naked before; I’m no virgin, but I’m pissed at myself for the stupid responses to this man. He brings out such adolescent reactions in me.
Although, that abdomen is worth an ogle!
“I’ll work out the finer points, Daniel, and meet again. Next time more formally to discuss this further.” He shakes Daniel’s hand, and they hug in a very ‘bromance’ way.
Nice. Male bonding over stabbing your fathers in the back. How admirable.
“Dude, we on for a drinking session when I get back?” “You need to ask?” Jake jokes as they stand a foot apart.
“Yeah, guess you need your wingman to help you pick up the pretties. You’re pretty useless solo,” Daniel laughs and pushes Jake in the arm playfully.
“We both know I’m the one with the moves; women just like your pretty-boy smile and a fat wallet, princess.” Their humor is evident. Jake pinches his cheek and is rewarded with Daniel’s middle finger.
Daniel turns to me with a sideways, crooked smile and a glint of sleaze in his eye. I steel against an eye roll and remain impassive under his scrutiny, standing up slowly and pulling my bag to my side, trying to stay invisible.
“Emma, it was really nice to meet you. I’m sure Jake would let me take you out to dinner.” He smiles my way.
Does he realize his slinky, sexual, bored woman is ten feet away, lounging on a couch and watching a movie on her iPad?
My skin crawls.
“I wouldn’t let you anywhere near her, Hunter! I know your MO, remember?” Jake cuts in smoothly and quickly between us, saving me from a refusal. His tone is light.
“Bro?” Daniel frowns with mock shock, holding a hand to his chest as though he’s deeply wounded.
“Forget it. I wouldn’t let you near her with anyone else’s, let alone yours.” Jake’s still joking, but there’s a slight edge to his voice now.
He’s serious.
“I forgot you don’t mess with the staff,” Daniel laughs smugly. I miss whatever look passes between them as Jake stands before me.
“I don’t mess with good girls. Period.” Jake turns, throwing me a cavalier wink, and my heart stops mid-beat.
Does he think I’m a good girl? What does that even mean? Boring, uptight? What’s wrong with good girls?
“Amen to that!” Daniel cuts in, and both men high-five in a show of male camaraderie. I don’t quell the urge to eye roll and catch Jake grinning back at me this time.
I experience a swell of relief as he turns and places a hand on the small of my back to guide me out, signaling this meeting is done. It’s the first time that skin contact has been acceptable between us as he guides me out of the room, along the hall, and finally to the row of gold-colored elevators, leaving Daniel behind in the room to do whatever with his date.
“I’m sorry I answered for you,” Jake says, glancing at me in the elevator. There’s an apologetic downturn to one eyebrow that’s kind of cute. “I just don’t think any good would come from dating Daniel Hunter; I know him too well.” The look of conviction and honesty is endearing.
“I don’t want to date Daniel Hunter,” I smile tightly, suddenly warm and claustrophobic, deadly serious. Daniel is a creep.
Why does Jake have this knack of tilting me off keel? I don’t like it.
“He’s bad news with women,” he frowns at me, watching me closely, and I have to look away for a second to stop the heat rising inside of me from showing on my face.
“Bit like you then?” I smirk and catch the entire width of that jaw-dropping smile from the corner of my eye. It’s unexpected and makes me smile too.
“I’m not bad news for women; I know how to treat them, whereas Daniel does not. He’s a typical playboy; he doesn’t care whose feelings he hurts.” Irony.
He slips an arm around me, pulling me in against him, shielding me as we leave the elevator amid more flashes and clicks. This time I anticipate it and am more relaxed about the contact. I keep my eyes on the floor and try not to react to him, which is hard, considering he has me pressed very securely to that muscular frame, and it’s not exactly unpleasant. He feels solid.
Outside I look up, blinking harshly as the sun glares cruelly at us, and I lift my hand to shield my eyes. He slides his shades from his head onto my face in such a fluid movement that I’m taken by surprise and don’t react. He registers nothing on his face, just guides me to our car as it pulls up, and he deposits me in the back before following me in. I suddenly get a tiny inkling of how the women he dates must feel; he’s attentive and in control, with excellent manners. He’s a gentleman. Pretty surprising for a guy who loves himself.
Very smooth, Carrero, unexpectedly smooth.
I hand the shades back in the dark confines of the car, and he pushes them back on top of his head with a smile, a nothing but thanks kind of soft grin.
“Back to the office?” I enquire as I grab my briefcase to offload my notepad. I’m glad to be back here and back in normal territory.
“Not yet. I’ve some things to do, and I figure we could use the bonding time. Margo agreed we should get better acquainted.” As we move off, he looks out the window, watching the photographers fall back with disinterest, the tinted windows concealing us entirely.
“Why? I’m only your PA.” I’m surprised and too quick verbally to curb my stupid question. I know I should never quiz the boss.
“And that job entails a lot more than typing, Emma. I know you’re used to working for the execs on the lower floors, but I’ve certain tasks that my staff undertake. I took you on a recommendation and didn’t just dip into the temp pool.” He studies my face seriously.
“Tasks? Beyond those of a PA?” I ask carefully, feeling obtuse and cursing myself for it.
“You’ll accompany me on business trips, dinners, and such. Sometimes I prefer my PA to an actual date. Less hassle. Margo singled you out of the list because you are unmarried and have no kids. She recognizes that you’re career-oriented and like to go above and beyond for your position.”
Above and beyond? What the hell does that mean?
“List?” I query instead, trying not to mull over the fact he sometimes replaces dates with his PA, trying not to read anything into what he just said.
“There were more than thirty employees recommended for your role.”
“I’m not surprised. I guess this was a job worthy of fighting over.” I blanche, realizing just how lucky I was to get picked.
Of course, there would have been a list. Every woman on this side of Manhattan would want to work for Jake Carrero. Work with him closely, very closely indeed.
“You’ll soon get sick of the flights and hotels, Emma. I practically live out of a suitcase,” he sighs and once again finds something with the toe of his boot at the door to start pushing. It’s oddly juvenile.
“I will?” The thought is exciting; I long to travel and experience things beyond New York. I’ve been waiting on it.
“Margo has a husband and family; she can’t be my chaperone anytime I need her. She’s missed out on so much of her kids’ lives.” He looks genuinely guilty about this. “Her husband is retiring now, and I think she feels it’s time to rekindle her marriage. So, she took the opportunity to find a more suitable assistant. Natalia has already decided that she won’t return to my office after maternity leave. She wants to offload some of her responsibilities and concentrate on family.” He throws me another disarming smile. “Not everyone can handle the intensity of this job, Emma, or the hours. And once you’re ready to move up to Margo’s position, we’ll find someone else to work under you.” He stops the fidgeting and focuses on me once more.
“I hope I don’t disappoint. I aim to work my butt off,” I say, honestly, starting to relax in his presence and somehow seeing a new side to him after this little encounter. Time alone together has made me a little less intimidated by him. He’s human, after all.
“Over the last couple of days, I’ve been observing you, trying
to find out if we’re compatible enough to have the same working relationship that I have with Margo.” “And?” I’m surprised by this.
“You’re still my PA, aren’t you?” He smiles warmly, that devastating natural smile that can curl toes and leave women fanning themselves.
“Early days, Mr. Carrero,” I smile back, a little bit of my relaxed humor seeping into my tone, feeding on his casual demeanor for once.
“Reading people is a gift of mine. I recognize ability. I think once you relax and thaw a little, we’ll get on fine. Your skills are on point. You follow instructions and take the initiative.”
I’m stunned. I don’t know why his praise shocks me. I know how hard I work; I know how good I am. I guess I’m surprised that he even noticed and verbalized it. He seems too relaxed to watch people sharply. I think it’s another of his hidden skills, a silent observer who is very good at hiding it.
“Margo aims to hand it over to you eventually. I want to make the transition smooth, so she has no reason to backtrack. Margo deserves her retirement.” I pick up on the affection in his face. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that kind of connection between coworkers that wasn’t sex-based. It’s sweet, I guess.
“I’m sure I won’t disappoint her,” I shrug quietly, eyes on him, and a soft smile crosses my lips. A genuine one.
“You need to learn to relax around me.”
“If you’re implying that I should adopt your casual posture and manner, then I don’t think the transition will go as smoothly as you want,” I say with an edge of seriousness in my tone. I want him to understand that I’ll never be as lax as Margo in our work relationship.
He grins at me, all straight white teeth and chiseled handsomeness, self-assured and smug.
Annoyingly so.