Filthy Rich (Filthy Rich 1)

I rolled my eyes. “You haven’t seen Dane in a long time, you know.”

“I know. It’s been years, and his picture isn’t plastered all over the New York gossip sites, unlike my brother. Are you saying that Dane actually bought a new shirt sometime over the last few years? One that doesn’t smell? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“You can make all the jokes you want, but he can’t actually hear you. You know that, right?”

“True, but it’s fun making them anyway. Are all of the boys there?”

“We are. We’re about to meet for drinks.”

“Oh, that actually sounds fun. Though the testosterone might be too much for me.”

“You’re not used to it anymore. It won’t be all testosterone. My executive assistant is coming, too.”

“Which one is this? The new one? Samantha, right?” I didn’t talk to many people, but it was impossible to keep anything from Ava. “I hope she’s ready.”

“She’ll be fine.” But as I said my goodbyes to Ava, I thought it over. The Tower VC boys were a lot to handle sometimes. Well, I’d told them to behave. I’d just have to hope they listened to me.

Thirteen

Samantha

* * *

We met at a bar called Caponi’s, a few blocks from the hotel. The Chicago spring air was brisk, and it was windy—appropriate, I supposed, in the Windy City, though no native Chicagoans ever called it that. It wasn’t exactly warm yet, but people were out in their spring outfits, happy that the long, icy winter was over. There was nothing as optimistic as Chicagoans in early spring.

I wore a navy blue sweater dress and knee-high boots, my hair in a ponytail. Aidan met me in the lobby—he had changed out of the sweater and replaced it with a black button-down shirt, open at the throat, and a casual black jacket. My sister Emma was right—my boss was an absolute snack. Damn it. And this felt disturbingly casual, so as soon as we started walking I talked business.

“There are plenty of emails piling up,” I said. “If you want me to deal with them back in my room while you meet your partners, I’d understand.”

“Are you chickening out?” Aidan asked, sounding amused.

“Not at all. I’m just trying to figure out the situation. You hired me to work for you, but apparently we’re going drinking in the middle of a Monday afternoon.”

“You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to.”

“I know.” I hadn’t decided about that yet. I was nervous enough to crave a glass of wine, and at the same time alcohol seemed like a bad idea. These were very important men, and I needed to make a good impression. “I’ll work later tonight to catch up.”

“You don’t have to do that, either.” Aidan paused, and something seemed to occur to him. “Do you actually think I’d invite you out during a weekday, then blame you for not being up-to-date on your workload?”

I laughed. “I can tell you’ve never worked for any other CEOs.”

“That’s an asshole move.”

“And your point is?”

“Jesus.” He was thoughtful for half a block. I noticed a couple of women staring at hi

m, but he seemed oblivious. “Can I ask you something?” he said as we approached the door to the bar.

“Sure,” I said, though I wasn’t.

“Do you like working for me?”

It was such an unexpected question that I couldn’t think of an answer for a second. “Yes,” I said, though I didn’t say the rest of it—that this was the best assignment I’d ever had, that I wanted to please him, that I wanted to make this work. “Yes, I do.”

He stopped outside the door and turned to look at me. “So you’d like to continue working for me,” he said. “Long term.”

I nodded. “Yes, I would.”