Chapter 1 - India
India Moss stood in front of her full-length mirror, hoping she didn’t look too much like a porn star pretending to be a librarian. This was something that happened to her a bit too often when she tried to dress like a businessperson.
It wasn’t that she looked like a porn star, only that she wasn’t accustomed to dressing conservatively and it was off somehow. She was convinced that she always looked like she was faking it when she wore pantsuits and pencil skirts. If only she was as good at disguise as her brother, who had emerged from their unconventional upbringing with a lot of skills India didn’t seem to have. He could deftly blend in, no matter the situation, passing through so many places completely unnoticed. India never felt comfortable anywhere, and that fact surely made her stand out. Their parents had always been baffled by India’s awkwardness, as if she were a different species.
If her brother were here, he’d tweak something subtle about her appearance and she would look like a boring but competent woman of indeterminate age and no particular consequence. But she lacked that skill, and blending in never seemed to happen quite like it should. Her height was a problem, as was her glossy blonde hair; both made her stand out when she’d prefer to disappear. She picked a pair of flats, tucked a few stray hairs back into her severe chignon, and slapped on some unsexy glasses. Finding unsexy glasses was a feat made more difficult by all the Instagram girls who made librarian glasses look sexy these days. Regardless, it would have to do.
She packed her laptop and tablet into a big purse and headed to the job site. She had been lucky to land a temp job at Blackstone Industries, a largish and fairly profitable company whose purpose she didn’t completely understand — something with shipping and imports and manufacturing. The company was housed in about ten stories of a large office tower in downtown Portland, and the building was tall and sleek, all shiny glass and steel.
A thrill of excitement trickled down her spine as the security guard buzzed her through and directed her to Human Resources. The nerves of a new job always hit her hard, and she was unfocused—so unfocused that she smacked straight into a small man with glasses. Both of them bounced off of each other and went flying. India’s training kicked in, and she let the momentum carry her into a back roll and bounced back onto her feet.
She looked around, prepared to play her martial arts backflip move off as a weird coincidence, but the men didn’t seem to have noticed. The smaller man mumbled apologies and scrambled for the things he had dropped in the collision, and a second man asked her if she was okay. She looked up into the gray-green eyes of Sean Blackstone himself.
She had done her research and knew who he was, but seeing him in person made her feel different from what she was expecting, mostly because he was taller than she had pictured. Okay, and he was insanely sexy, perhaps the most attractive human being India had ever seen in person. India did not cope well with physical attraction.
“Shit, I’m sorry!” she laughed nervously. “Also, ignore that cursing.”
India bent down to pick up the scattered papers that had gone flying out of the other man’s hand and snuck a look at Blackstone. Sean Blackstone was fucking beautiful, and she was pretty sure he knew it. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with the lean, athletic build of a runner, but it was his face that was most stunning. His square jaw and defined cheekbones made were softened by lush lips and lashes that most women would kill for. He combed a hand through his perfectly mussed light brown hair and frowned at her. She stood and grinned.
“Well, that wasn’t the first impression I was going for,” she said, laughing. “I’m new here. I’m India.” India flushed, trying out her new. “India Mason, the new temp.”
He nodded, studying her quietly, and she hoped he wasn’t paying that much attention to her looks. The idea here was to remain in the background, and the last thing she needed was the owner of the company, a notorious womanizer, hitting on her.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “Perhaps I should ask if Harold is okay. You hit him like a freight train.” The guy with glasses chuckled and looked embarrassed.
“Oh fine, I just wasn’t paying attention. So sorry Harold! Which way to HR?” India smiled her winningest smile, and Blackstone pointed her down the hallway to his left, still smirking. India could feel both of their eyes on her as she stalked off down the hall, trying to adjust her skirt and look presentable once again. She pushed into the office and was introduced to the HR director, who looked young for that role, but friendly and kind. The director sat India in a chair at a little table outside her office, and India began filling out the requisite paperwork, NDAs, and HR disclosures—all pretty standard for the size of the company.
“So, Ms. Mason, you’re here as an administrative assistant for Mr. Blackstone,” the HR director, who had introduced herself as Heather, said once India was done with the paperwork.
“For Mr. Blackstone? I hadn’t realized it would be that important of a role.” India’s mind raced as she imagined being an admin for that man. That was a much higher level gig than she had anticipated, giving her both more access than she had known she would have and more exposure to threats.
“Yes, his usual assistant is on maternity leave, so we’re looking for someone to fill the role for about eight weeks. Does that work for you?” Heather asked.
“Of course.” But this was an entirely different plan. She tried to recalculate how things might work with the shift. Heather cleared her throat, and India looked up to find the woman staring impatiently at her. “Sorry, one more paper to sign!” India said, signing it with a flourish. She handed the stack of legal jargon and lawsuit prevention back to Heather, and Heather smiled as she passed it off to her assistant.
“This way, please,” Heather said. She led India back to the sleek glass elevator and up to an upper-level office, which was a little ridiculous in both its pretentious scale and decor. The assistant’s desk was so minimalist and modern, India wasn’t even sure where pens would be stored, and the room was blindingly bright white, with only a few abstract art pieces on the wall. Sean Blackstone peeked out from behind a door in the wall which had been hidden in the paneling. India hadn’t even seen it before it opened.
“You’re the new secretary?” His eyes raked over her again, cataloging, judging, possibly even deciding her fuck-worthiness.
“That appears to be the case. I promise, I’m not usually a klutz,” she lied, smiling. She glanced at Heather, who was panting like a puppy who had spotted a bacon treat. Blackstone nodded briskly, then turned and stomped off. Heather shrugged, but showed India around the computer.
“He’s so fucking sexy.” Heather stared longingly at the white panel where the door used to be. Why was everything so damn white? India would love to add a splash of color to the sterile room.
“Oh yeah? Do tell.” India’s brother always emphasized the importance of making friends with people like Heather, people with access and knowledge.
“I would, but I’ve signed an NDA.” Heather turned and gave her a sassy wink.
“Noted. The kind of sexy that requires an NDA. Not gonna touch that with a ten-foot pole.” India grinned, settling down into the fancy ergonomic chair behind her sleek glass desk and hitting the spacebar on the keyboard to see if it was password protected. It was.
Heather chortled a bit like a dad who had told a bad joke. “The pole is not quite ten FEET. Anyway, your primary role here will be to answer calls, schedule appointments, run errands, and review his non-classified emails, forwarding him the ones that need his attention. He’ll bring other tasks as needed, but it’s all pretty standard for the role. There’s an espresso machine in the staff lounge, and you’ll be expected to keep him caffeinated as much as he needs it. Make sure he eats as well.”
“So I’m like his mother?”
“If he wanted to bend his mother over the desk and spank her,” Heather murmured. She handed India a folder. “Oh! Here are your passwords. Please memorize these and shred the document. Let me show you how to work the coffeemaker and I’d better get back to work.”
India smiled. As sexy as Sean Blackstone was, she had no interest in spanking or in womanizing misogynists, so it would be pretty easy to resist him. Heather showed her the coffee machine, which was way too complicated for India to pay attention to. It wasn’t her fault that she zoned out on step seven. It was the machine’s fault for having more than seven steps. “Can’t I go get some from the coffee shop downstairs?”
“He has very distinctive tastes,” Heather said with a sniff. “Take him this one that I made, and see if he needs anything. I need to get back to work.” India sighed. She knew that in real life, she would not do well as a secretary or administrative assistant or whatever they were called. Still, she needed to not get fired for at least a week, so she took the cup and stalked down the hallway, mentally plotting ways to replace this elaborate process with instant coffee and a microwave to screw with her annoying new boss.
