Dirty Bad Boys Box Set: Forbidden Romance Collection

The water almost spits out of my mouth, and with a quick swallow, I stand up and greet the man standing by my side. “Yes, you must be Mr. Rich.”

“Oh, I’m flattered and wishful to be that young again.” He laughs, his bushy gray eyebrows bopping up and down. “Mr. Rich is running late, as usual. So, let’s get started.”

Mr. Ramsay has a background in business law. Having worked with lawyers for many years, I understand legal jargon, being exposed to it almost every day.

“I must say, Miss Milenov, it’s refreshing to work

with someone who has legal knowledge. Have you considered studying a degree in law?”

“I did. It isn’t my preference. I just sort of fell into an assistant role, but I did obtain a lot of exposure working with my former boss. She was quite a shark back home.”

“You’ve got a keen eye for detail. You managed to pick up inconsistencies in these contracts that my qualified staff weren’t able to find.”

I’m about to comment when the door swings open, and my vision is met with a pair of tailored charcoal pants. They’re tapered in nicely, paired with shiny black dress shoes that make his feet look huge. You know what they say. I ignore Phoebe’s voice in my head and quickly scan the rest of his body without being too obvious until our eyes meet.

It must be Mr. Rich, a very handsome man with a cleanly shaven face and strong jawline. His jawline makes him look very burly and masculine. Even his hair is styled so perfectly, combed to the side like he just stepped off a photoshoot for a designer label.

“Punctuality not your thing, Mr. Rich?”

“Jeff, always a pleasure.” He places his cell on the table and extends his hand to greet mine. “And you are?”

“Miss Milenov.” I stand as he watches me with far too much curiosity. “Emerson, I mean, Mrs. Chase, was unable to make it and requested I be here.”

His face instantly drops, almost of disappointment. He avoids looking at me any longer, taking a seat at the end of the table and rolling the cuffs of his white shirt. I notice the large silver watch on his wrist and no wedding band. I have a fascination with hands.

“Let’s make this quick, shall we?”

Jeff jumps straight back to it, talking about the companies that want to stock Emerson’s fitness line in Australia and New Zealand. I’m writing down his comments profusely, not aware that Mr. Rich sits at the table looking bored while his eyes are fixed on me. Jeff speaks for another hour before concluding the meeting. I relax my fingers that begin to cramp from taking all my notes. A week into this job, and I’m thinking that typing would be much easier. Emerson wasn’t joking when she said this role would be full-on.

“Here.” Jeff slides over a business card to me. “If you’re wanting to get that degree and looking for something solid, come find me.”

I thank him by smiling and tuck the business card into my wallet. He says goodbye and leaves the room quickly.

“What was that about?”

My gaze moves to Mr. Rich. “That? Mr. Ramsey mentioned something earlier.”

“Right.” He pauses, but his persistent stare is fast becoming annoying. “So, you’re Emerson’s new personal assistant.”

“Yes.”

“Interesting, you look quite young to be her assistant.”

“I’m not sure how my age affects my capability.”

“How old are you?”

I shake my head in a daze. What is with this guy? Yeah, he’s cute and all but bordering on being a dick. “Are you seriously asking my age?”

“You just look young. Em is quite particular with young people working around her.”

I shut my notebook and pack my things before giving him a response. “Well, I can assure you that I’m more than qualified to assist Mrs. Chase. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve done what’s been asked of me and must continue my busy day.”

“So, let me guess, you wanted the job because you’re hoping to hop in bed with Carrington?”

I have no clue what he’s talking about, but his brutish grin and arrogant persona tick the boxes that Emerson warned me about. It’s always the good-looking ones who have to be assholes.

“I apologize.” He stands up tall, inches above me even in my pumps. “How rude of me to presume you’re that type of woman.”