Divine Assistant

“A moment please,” she said in the voice that meant she repeated that phrase only a hundred times each day.

Simon Morris was a middle-aged, stocky man with a shiny bald head and hawk-like blue eyes. He was dressed impecca

bly, his expression unreadable as he led her into his sumptuous office.

“Miss Divine,” he said, signaling to the seat across from his desk. Lucy sat down and crossed her legs. His eyes followed the move and lingered there for what she thought was longer than necessary. “My secretary tells me you’re Holden’s new assistant.”

She didn’t flinch at the obvious sneer in his voice. “Yes.”

“I doubt I’ll have the pleasure of seeing you here next week. They come and go so often,” he smiled. It was a cold smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Maybe that’s because he still hadn’t found me.” Her smile was equally cold.

It took him off guard, and for a moment she saw something almost unpleasant flash in his eyes before he leaned back in his chair. “So what can I help you with today?”

She calmly linked her fingers over her lap. “Actually, I’m here to discuss an investing idea which I would like Holden and Investors to consider.”

“Go on.”

He seemed greatly bored and even stifled a yawn, but she wasn’t surprised, because no matter how modern anyone thought the country was, women still had trouble being taken seriously in the business world. “It’s about Finrod Tech, symbol FIN, just unlisted from the Nasdaq. Have you heard of this company?”

“Yes. But I’m afraid it’s much too small a fish to capture our attention,” he replied haughtily.

This was not going how Lucy would have liked, but still she pressed on, keeping her voice level and her eyes on his in a way that told him she would not be intimidated. Her brother had told her all about men like Morris, men who always kept subordinates in their place, who let no one rise above them. Men who felt threatened by a new idea, a new concept, a new person, for fear it would dislodge their place in the company food chain. “Yes, well…it’s a small fish if you look at only its middleware software, but it recently expanded into service-databases, which is why it’s largely in debt.”

He looked at his watch, pointedly so. “And your point is, Miss Divine?”

She uncrossed her legs and, bracing her hands on the chair armrests, leaned slightly forward, narrowing her eyes. If he wanted to play hardball, then Lucy could play too. She loved games. “The point is, Mr. Morris, its sales have been growing at a rate of sixty percent each year, and if it weren’t for bad management, it could have paid off its debt years ago. The company’s assets, including its fixed assets, total almost one-hundred million, and at current market price you could get the whole company for almost half that.

“True, they owe ninety-million, but if the debt is refinanced, it can easily be paid off within the next five to ten years with the current yearly gross sales, and after that, if it continues the current growth trend, then it’s all uphill. At that point, there’s an excellent chance you could sell it to its strongest competition for an immense profit. I really can’t believe you’ve not even considered the possibility. I know for certain other investment firms are taking a look at it. Chances for success in this venture are extremely good.”

For a few seconds afterward he said nothing, but Lucy could swear there was a savage glint in his cold blue eyes. He slowly rose from his seat, adjusted the collar of his deep-gray jacket and walked around his desk to stand mere inches away from where she sat. She gasped when he clutched her jaw in his hand and squeezed, his thumb and fingers digging into her cheeks.

Her heart pounded against her rib cage almost in accord with the rapid, loud sounds of the phone as it began ringing on top of his desk. He ignored it completely, his attention solely focused on inching his face to hers and baring his teeth. The incessant ringing of the phone made her temples pound and his foul breath on her face made a shiver of dread run down her spine.

“I won’t stand for anyone bursting into my office and insulting me, especially not one of Holden’s simpering assistants! I’ve been in this business for seventeen years and if someone knows when an idea is shit, it’s me, you got that?” Still clutching her jaw with one hand, he yanked her to her feet with the other, his grip on her arm nearly crushing her bones.

She flattened her palms against his chest and pushed frantically, and to her utter distress, she found that his chest was brutally hard. Her efforts were as efficient as pushing a stone wall. “Let go of me,” she squeezed through her lips. The force of his grip squeezing her cheeks rendered her tongue almost immobile, making it nearly impossible for her to talk. His other hand was now coiled around her waist like a boa constrictor, anchoring her against him while squeezing the air right out of her lungs.

“You want something good? I’ll give you something good!”

This isn’t happening! Lucy thought when his tight, dry lips crushed over hers. This couldn’t be happening, not under Holden’s very nose, not in this building, not in this company, not in Manhattan and not in the twenty-first century!

But it was. The steely grip of his hand was clenching her face so hard her skin stung, and his odious tongue was sliding through the forced opening of her lips and into her mouth.

She bucked against him and repeatedly slammed her hands against his shoulders, fighting him with all her might, and when he didn’t budge she jerked her knee upward and landed it solidly in his crotch just as she heard a deep, ominous voice behind her say, “What the fuck is going on here?”

Holden. Thank God.

Morris folded over, the breath wheezing out of his lungs as he cupped himself with both hands. His fleshy cheeks and the rounded top of his head glowed bright red. Lucy straightened, trying and failing miserably to look calm when she turned toward the doorway and met Holden’s intense stare. Her breath came in loud, audible gasps and her lips trembled uncontrollably.

After switching his gaze from one to the other, Lucy could tell Holden didn’t need anyone to explain to him just “what the fuck” had happened.

“Are you all right, Lucy?” he asked thickly.

She could only nod repeatedly, her head bobbing up and down way too many times to count. Holden whipped his gaze to Morris then, his eyes set into lethal coal-black slits.

She had never, ever seen Holden so pissed—he looked ready to kill someone. Even his neck seemed to strain and thicken, his hands fisting at his sides, the move causing his knuckles to jut out threateningly. He looked very ready and very willing to kill Simon Morris—or at least to fire him.