On the first day, Sean ran me through my training. Most of it is stuff I already know and am used to, but with the heat of him at my back, the deep purr of his voice in my ear, and the scent of his cologne scrambling my mind, I could barely spell my own damn name, never mind remember all the technical things.
I try to be a big girl and do the right thing by telling him we should keep things professional. Yet here I am, just two days later, already kicking myself for it.
Yesterday, I sat in on a meeting in the conference room, taking notes and learning to decipher all the business chat that seems like another language. By the end of it all, the talk of investing and reports and predicted outcomes was practically ingrained into my brain.
Sean sat me right next to him, then tugged my chair closer because he wanted to check the notes on my screen even though I only had a blank document open, and I spent the entire rest of the hour trying to remember how to act normal with his thigh pressed against mine under the table.
So, yeah. I’m crumbling and fast. But god, he’s just so…hot, obviously, but also sweet and kind and patient and everything I’ve always imagined the love of my life to be.
“He’s also your fucking boss, Savannah,” I scold myself in the bathroom mirror, scowling at my reflection.
Though, Sean doesn’t seem to think that his position matters at all. He doesn’t understand that it's not simple, at least not for me. How can I possibly hope to find a place here at this company, make friends with coworkers, and settle in if everyone thinks I only got hired because I’m sleeping with the boss? I don’t want to be that girl.
I glance at the time on my phone, cursing when it tells me it’s three minutes past nine. Rushing, I scamper out of the bathroom and back to my desk. My face flames when I realize Sean’s standing there waiting for me.
Shit.
I begin to blabber apologies, ducking my head to try and hide my embarrassment. “Sorry, sorry. I was just—”
“What are you apologizing for?” he interrupts, giving me a heated once-over with his dark gaze. I sink into my chair behind my desk, unable to stop the shiver that runs through me under his inspection.
“I kept you waiting,” I say, smoothing my hair out of my face.
“For a minute,” he answers, rolling his eyes. “I’m a patient man, Savannah. I will wait for you as long as it takes.”
Why am I being tortured by the universe right now? Seriously, this can’t be legal. It’s inhumane what he’s doing to me.
“W-what can I do for you?” I look up at him and put on my best customer service face.
“Your coffee order.”
“What?”
“Coffee,” he repeats with a smirk that disarms me completely. I swear I’ll swoon if I’m not sitting down. My knees feel weak. His voice is low and smooth as he adds, “How do you take it, sweetness?”
My traitorous mind conjures up an image of him asking the same thing in bed. Braced over me, strong arms flexing on either side of my body, that sinful voice asking me, “How do you take it, sweetness?”
“Latte,” I fumble out, shaking my head rapidly to try and clear the dream. It’s too late. I’m already craving him in every way. “Shouldn’t I be the one getting everyone their coffee? I’m just the secretary, you’re the boss…”
“You can come with me if it’ll make you feel better,” he offers, shrugging as though we’re on the same level. Does he truly believe that? “If anyone’s calling the front desk at ten to nine in the morning, they deserve to wait anyway.”
I gape at him. From what I’ve gathered, he’s laid back but clearly excellent at his job. I’ve seen the numbers reports on the email chain to the accountant. The sheer amount of zeros in the profit margin column made my eyes bulge out of their sockets.
Yet, he’s not a tyrant. He doesn’t boss people about or make employees so stressed they cry like I’ve seen in my past jobs. Everyone I’ve spoken to seems to genuinely enjoy working here, though there’s not exactly time for deep and meaningful conversations with my coworkers during the work day. Still, nobody has warned me to run while I can, like a waitress once did when I started a local hostess job. That has to be a good sign. Damn him for making it so hard to find something wrong with him. No man can be this perfect.
“I’ll go see what everyone else wants,” I rush to say, pushing away from the desk and practically sprinting onto the main office floor before the filter between my brain and my mouth fails and I say something truly stupid.
I find a cluster of my coworkers in the kitchen, some already clutching mugs of instant coffee. They sigh happily and give me wide grins when I tell them I’m doing a coffee run, and I type out their orders on my notes app. I try to dawdle, needing to take some space away from Sean and his irresistible presence, but five minutes later, I’m waiting for the elevator with him at my side.
“So, how are you finding the work?” he asks. To everyone else, I’m sure it seems like a nice boss checking up on his new hire. But I can’t help reading into every word out of his mouth, dissecting his tone in search of hidden secrets.
“Good,” I reply, thankful when the elevator comes.
The doors slide closed after us, but he doesn’t press the button for the ground floor. I’m suddenly very aware that this is far worse. I’m stuck with him in a small space alone.
“You’re killing me, sweetness.” He ambles towards me. I step back, my back hitting the mirrored wall of the elevator. There’s nowhere for me to run, but even if there is, I know I won’t. I want to be caught by him, even though I know it’s wrong. “Having you so close but not being able to touch you… You’re incredible, Savannah. Smart and strong and stunning—”
“And your secretary,” I add, my voice shaking.
