The Truth

I must make some noise of distress because she freezes, her hand on the doorknob. She doesn’t look back at me, but I see her spine straighten and her shoulders square down and back as she opens the door. With a whiff of air from the closing door behind her, she’s gone.

Once again, I resort to eavesdropping as Billy asks her, “You survive Stryker, girl?”

Infinitely curious to what she’ll say, I strain to listen, but she must shake her head or shrug her shoulders. Something silently communicative, because I don’t hear her answer.

“No worries, Tiff. You can check out my gains another time.”

I grip the armrests of my chair so tightly that they squeak beneath my palms. Dammit, Billy.

He’s my friend.

He’s my nephew.

He doesn’t mean anything by it.

He doesn’t know what his words are doing to me.

And I have no right to her.

All good reminders, but that last one hurts.

Chapter 10

Tiffany

This training session is the best idea I’ve come up with in a long time. For a multitude of reasons.

For one thing, it lets our staff show off their unique skills, duplicating them throughout our team.

Today is Vanessa’s chance to shine. She’s excited to show off her expert spreadsheet skills, and several assistants from all over the building are eagerly scheduled to come learn. I even got a ‘preview’ lesson so that I could pick up the skills without needing to be there. I think some follow-up sessions might even be in order on other topics. And I don’t just mean Vanessa putting on master classes in executive assisting. A lot of my staff have skills and experience to share, and we would all benefit from the continued training.

Secondly, we can’t let balls get dropped during these sessions, so I’ve scheduled myself to cover Vanessa’s desk while she’s demonstrating the custom commands and macros she’s created.

So I’m sitting at Vanessa’s desk with plans to learn something altogether different—what makes Daniel tick. Being around him these past years, I’ve learned a lot, but most of that has been filtered through Elle or come from interactions where Elle was present.

I don’t want to know Daddy Daniel, as much as I’ve teased Elle about that over the years. I want to know Daniel, the man. Deep down and personal, all the nitty-gritty, dirty details. And what better way to do that then serve as the person who knows those secrets firsthand, his assistant?

I’ve tried to do it ‘cleanly’, keeping my eyes on his schedule, listening to him work, or surveying what’s already on Vanessa’s desk. But after a bit, I dig deeper, scanning through Vanessa’s computer looking for contacts that sound more personal than business oriented and calendar appointments that look like dates.

I find an alarming lack of anything romantic. I do learn that he orders lunch from the same salad place at least twice a week, has annual physicals, and the closest thing he’s had to a vacation in years is stretching work trips to England by a day or two. He doesn’t even take personal days when Elle comes home to visit.

I’m worried about him based on that alone and can think of multiple ways to help him relax. Ways that I definitely would love to participate in.

Daniel comes out of his office, not in on today’s events yet. “Vanessa?”

He stops when he sees me, and I give him a totally innocent look. “Good morning, Mr. Stryker.”

“What are you doing here?”

I keep my voice level, as if I don’t have a single unprofessional thought in my pretty little head. “Vanessa’s giving her class to the others. So, I’m your assistant for the day. Here for anything you need.”

Daniel’s jaw moves up and down like a fish for a moment, but he quickly snaps back into action. “Fine. Get me the Colt report. I want to take a look at their R&D again before I have a video conference with their division chief tomorrow.”

“Of course,” I tell him serenely. “Is there anything else? Vanessa noted that you normally have a coffee around this time.”

Daniel blinks, then nods. “And a coffee.”

I get to work, taking advantage of Vanessa’s filing system. Her organization is the key to her efficiency. If she doesn’t have it within arm’s reach of her desk, she knows exactly where to get it.

Thankfully, she showed me the basics of her system, so I’m able to find a copy of the Colt report and take a few minutes to look through the R&D portion while the coffee machine brews a fresh pot.

Less than ten minutes later, I come with both the report and a mug, setting them on Daniel’s desk. “Here you go, Mr. Stryker. I put a Post-It where the R&D section of the report begins.”

“Thank you,” Daniel says before picking up the mug and inhaling deeply. “This is new.”

“I added a little pinch of cinnamon to the mix,” I tell him, giving him a smile. “It adds antioxidants and increases cognitive function. Plus, it gives it a bit of spicy sweetness.”