The Boss (The Boss 1)

“Thanks.” She beamed her wide, mega-friendly smile at me, and we shook hands again, because I didn’t know what else to do.

When I came back into the office, Neil had just gotten himself another cup of coffee, and I frowned at him. “Are you trying to put me out of a job?”

“Hmm?” He glanced down at the mug in his hand. “Don’t be foolish. If I’m up and about I can get the occasional cup for myself. What did you think of her?”

I nodded, determined to come up with an answer that wouldn’t seem like I was pushing too hard in any particular direction. After all, I didn’t have to work with her, not for long, anyway. And while I knew my job pretty well where Gabriella was concerned, I still had no idea how to be the right assistant for Neil. But when I opened my mouth, what came out was, “You have to hire her.”

He looked surprised at that. “You liked her?”

“Didn’t you?” Was he crazy? She was amazing. “I really think she’s going to be the right person for the job. She’ll fit in with the people here, but she’s not as uptight as the people here. And she has experience.”

“You’re lobbying fairly hard for her,” Neil said with a small smile. “Does this mean you’re taking the position in the beauty department?”

“I...” I frowned. I hadn’t given him an answer yet, and he’d interviewed my replacement? Then again, he’d been planning on replacing me, anyway. “Was this all to force me into making a decision?”

“No, it wasn’t. I swear.” He headed to his office, and I followed him. “You said you didn’t want to be my assistant, and I agreed, it would be inappropriate. Why, did you make a decision?”

I leaned against the door frame and cross my arms. “Yes. I’ll take the job.”

“Good.” He turned on the iPad and lifted it up, tapping my note on the screen. “The answer to this request, by the way, is no. And take off the ones you have on.”

Oh my god. Could I do that? I looked over my shoulder at the glass wall in the outer office. Beyond, in the lobby, Ivanka was talking into her headset, and the elevator doors had just opened.

“Not here,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching as he suppressed a grin. “Go back to your desk and do it. I’m not going to take them from you. I’m not starting some demented collection. I just like the thought of it.”

“How will you know if I’ve done it or not?” The tip of my tongue darted out to touch my upper lip as I smiled at him.

“You never know, Sophie. I might check.”

The outer office door opened, and Rudy came in, headed straight for Neil’s office. Neil gestured to the chair in front of his desk and greeted him with, “Did you hear from Carol this morning?”

“I did, and it isn’t good news. They want to drop February from a two page ad to a single, and they said they would get back to us about March.”

Neil raised an eyebrow at me. “You have a project you need to finish, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” I chirped, and left to do as he’d ordered.

Neil was right. There was no way I could be his assistant. We would never get anything done.

Chapter Eight

The next day, about a half hour after my usual lunchtime, Neil called me into his office. He’d had sushi delivered from some swanky catering place. My stomach had been growling all morning, and I wondered if our “friends” provision would cover me snatching and eating his entire lunch. At quarter to noon, he’d dumped a huge stack of letters on my desk and said, “I really need these to go out today. Could you possibly take a later lunch and get them done now?”

“Not a problem,” I had assured him. Inwardly, I’d thought some very uncharitable things about my boss.

When he summoned me in after the delivery guy had painstakingly unpacked and plated his lunch, I realized why he’d delayed me.

His entire desk was cleared off, and he sat in his high-backed black chair, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, no tie as usual. A feast of sushi rolls and sashimi, more than one person could reasonably eat, had been laid in delicate dishes on the top of the desk. My mouth watered. I tried to convince myself it was because Neil looked so good today— he totally did— but it was mostly to do with the food.

“Close the door behind you, and hit the lock.”

The tone of his voice instantly diverted my thoughts from my empty stomach to my empty... someplace else. I locked the door and took a second to pause and collect myself before turning to face him.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked, gesturing with his chopsticks.