Or will he?
Other than that, the work is okay. Mostly, for now, I’m catching up on the insanely huge pile of paperwork that Brock has been putting off, probably for months.
There are stacks of invoices, memos, and all kinds of other stuff. When I ask him why he hasn’t dealt with any of it, he shrugs with a grin.
“I have a ton of other things to do, and I hate paperwork. I’ll use any excuse to get out of it. Besides, Luke was never going to let me get a PA of my own if I was handily taking care of everything that landed on my desk, was he?”
“So you just ignored it all?”
“Sure. Why not? It’s gotten you a job. You should be pleased.”
And I am. About having a job, of course. Not about having to dig through these piles of paperwork not organized into any kind of rational system. It’s like he literally threw them all in a drawer. Well, it’s not like that—he actually, literally threw it all in a drawer.
So, week one is finished. The paperwork mountain is mostly under control, and I’ve put a new filing system in place to ensure it never gets that bad again.
All in all, I’m feeling good. I’m doing well at work. I haven’t heard from Pete since he got roughed up by those security guards. And I get to spend time with hot, hunky Brock. Well, some time, seeing as he’s busy a lot.
When he’s around, he’s a complete distraction, which is not totally his fault. I just can’t help but stare at the muscles bulging underneath his business suit. And when he cracks a joke or smiles at me, there’s a little flutter that starts low down in my belly and spreads all over.
I have to keep reminding myself that he’s just being a good boss and that he’s not interested in me that way.
He could have any woman he wants. He’s hardly going to be lusting after a lowly assistant whose creepy ex-boyfriend tries to start fights with him.
But there’s no harm in looking. So I do. A lot. Maybe a little too much.
It’s Saturday afternoon, my first day off since I started the job, and I’m sitting alone at home.
I’ve been fully made up since about 10 a.m. because Brock never told me what time he wanted me to be ready. I’ve basically just been pacing around my apartment since then, checking my phone every five minutes to see if he’s texted or called.
I feel like that teenager with a crush all over again, which is ridiculous. He’s probably taking me to some industry conference.
But no matter how many times I tell myself to relax, that it’s he probably just needs me around to help him collect business cards or take notes, it doesn’t work, and I’m checking the phone all over again.
Finally, around 3 p.m., I get a text from Brock.
Room 2218 at the Ritz-Carlton. Meet me there as soon as you can.
A hotel room? Is he really trying something with me?
I know I’ve been crushing on him, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to get away with something like this. Just booking a hotel room and expecting me to turn up and let him do whatever he wants with me? No way.
But . . . he wouldn’t do that. Would he? I’m being way too suspicious.
I hesitate for a moment but then decide to go along anyway, mostly because I’m intrigued.
If he’s waiting in there, wearing only a towel or something, I can just rip him a new one—that might even be kind of fun.
Besides, what am I going to do? Tell him I’m not going and I don’t care if he fires me over this? I’m not sure this is the hill I want to die on.
While I’m in the bus on my way over there, Dean calls.
“Hey, sis.” His voice filters through my old phone’s tinny speaker. “How’s the new job going? Your first paycheck should be due soon right? I’ll be expecting a cut.”
“For what?” I ask, laughing. “I’ll have you know I got the job entirely on my own merit, thank you very much.”
“Yeah? Well, Brock sent me a text the other day, said he didn’t even set up any interviews with anyone else. That sounds to me like I’d at least eliminated your competition, Nina.”
“Yeah, okay, fine. Thank you. That’s what you wanted to hear?”
“Yeah. You’re welcome.” A short pause. When Dean speaks again. There’s a tense undercurrent in his voice. “So, has Pete shown up again?”
“No,” I answer quickly. “I haven’t thought about Pete all week. Maybe he’s gotten the message now.”
“Really? He’s not bothering you too much is he? Do I need to go pay him a visit?” Dean asks. He can be a little overprotective sometimes.
“No, Dean. Please. You’ll only make things worse. I can handle my own business. He’s been dealt with.”