Boss Man Bridegroom Page 12

  “Just know, this doesn’t happen often, and we’re not becoming friends or anything.”

  “Oh, of course not. Heaven forbid,” she says sarcastically.

  “This is me as a boss appreciating his assistant.” I don’t know why I say it like that, but I’m feeling weird and oddly happy at the same time. After this past week and the hard work Charlee put in without even batting an eyelash, I knew I had to do something special for her. And yes, this might be very small, but it’s at least something.

  “Got it.” She chuckles and shakes her head while peeling a piece of her Danish apart. “Wouldn’t want to confuse our roles.” There’s a sense of irritation in her voice and I call her out on it.

  “Don’t be upset.”

  “I’m not upset, Rath, but you know, you could get to know me a little. It wouldn’t kill you. After all, I am the person who makes your breakfast and makes sure your panties are picked up from the dry cleaners.”

  I give her a get real look. “We both know I wash my own panties like every other normal asshole out there.”

  “Positive about that? Pretty sure I saw some silk briefs in last week’s batch.”

  “Silk is suffocating.” I clear my throat. “But we’re off topic.”

  She perks up. “Wait, have you worn silk panties before?”

  “Things we don’t talk about . . . panties.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Okay, then since this is my two-week celebration party, why don’t we exchange questions so we can get to know each other better? We’ll keep them very simple, nothing too deep, because Lord knows you’ll flip your lid and send me back to my desk.”

  “You act as if I’m a tyrant.”

  “Did you or did you not explode over blinds recently?”

  “Irrelevant.”

  “Completely relevant. You just about lost your mind. I thought you were about to have a heart attack, right here in your office, next to Sir Dragomir. He would have had to go to plant counseling, and I heard horticultural psychologists aren’t cheap.” Fucking Charlee Bag of Dicks.

  “You’re obscenely ridiculous, you realize that?” I shake my head at her.

  “Yes, but that’s what makes me fun.” She tacks on a smile. “Now, are you in? Questions?”

  I have a feeling she’s not going to let this go and even though I would never admit it, I’m curious to find something out about her that goes beyond the generic stuff I already know. “Fine, but nothing too personal.”

  “Yes, that was established.” She takes a napkin off my desk and pats her mouth. “I’ll go first. If you could have any job in the world besides what you’re doing, what would you be?”

  Hmm . . . good question.

  I lean back in my chair and take a bite of my Danish, thoughtfully considering my answer as the tartness of the lemon dances with my taste buds.

  “If I could be anything at this point, I would probably say a bakery owner that specializes in pastries and only pastries. No cupcakes, no cakes, no cookies, just pastries like eclairs and bear claws and almond croissants and—”

  “I get the point.” She laughs. “Who knew you had such a sweet tooth? Are you a good baker?”

  I shake my head. “No, that’s why I said own a bakery.”

  “But that usually implies that you’re the one who’s doing the baking.”

  “Unless you want stodgy and burnt pastries, don’t ask me to bake for you.”

  “We are going to have to fix that,” she says, logging away that information, which only makes me nervous. For some reason, I can picture coming in on a Friday to Charlee in a white pastry hat, the kitchen decked out, and an apron waiting for me with “boss man crust pants” stamped on the front. “Okay, you’re turn, ask me your question.”

  My question has to be good, something intriguing, something that will surprise me when she answers.

  But, my mind falls short, and I can’t come up with one good goddamn question. So, lamely I say, “If you had to do anything else for a living besides be my EA, what would it be?”

  “Oh, come on, you can’t ask me the same question,” she argues, a giant roll to her eyes.

  “I can when I’m the boss,” I answer, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Pulling the boss card a little early. Fine,” she sighs. “I guess if I had to be anything other than the best assistant in the world, I would have to go with planner designer.”

  “Like an office supply planner?”

  “Uh, yeah. Daisy and Dot have the best planner out there but I still would make some changes, little tweaks here and there especially for people in my position where we’re juggling a million things at once. I have a good eye; I think I could make a damn good planner.”

  Interesting. I nod and listen to her—and there’s a lot to listen to as she’s in Charlee’s Land of All Things Stationery—thinking of a new project that will probably blow her mind, and also, light up that smile.

  * * *

  “Charlee, can I see you in my office please?” I ask over the phone intercom.

  It took a few days, but I was able to pull everything together without her knowing and now that the time has come to tell her, well fuck, I’m a little nervous and far too excited.

  The office is back to its usual organized and colorful chaos. That’s what I like to call it. I’m greeted every morning in the same way, but always somehow different. Sometimes Charlee is decked out in her color for the day, sometimes she wears a print, sometimes her look is more subdued. It all depends on the day, but what I have noticed and relied on as a constant of her unpredictability is that every Thursday, she always wears green and reminds me, we make the money on Thursdays. I now wear green too, and I work my hardest on Thursdays. How the hell did that happen? More than that . . . how did I not know how unproductive my Thursdays had actually been?

  We’ve established an easy routine: she greets me, quickly talking about anything important that I need to be advised of for the day, I hand her a list of tasks, and she tells me which healthy breakfast she prepared for me that morning. It’s completely ridiculous that I still write up the list because, yes, I know how Dropbox works—but it’s now our thing. I frequently roll my eyes as I’m writing the damn thing, because she knows what’s on it before I even give it to her. She’s that good. But her smile . . . as I hand her the list each day, there’s a certain cheeky grin that appears, and it only appears when she gets the list.

  We’re a smooth unit, working harmoniously together and it’s terrifying how much I truly rely on her now. Not just her extremely hard work ethic, but I rely on seeing her cheerful eyes when I step off the elevator. I rely on her flowery scent to fill the office with brightness in the morning, and I rely on her quick-witted, one-liners, and droll comebacks to make me feel whole.

  In a matter of weeks, she’s become indispensable to me.

  “Sure thing,” Charlee says into the phone and then quickly strides into my office, wearing a green dress that fits snug against her curves, flairs at her hips, and looks far too good for the workplace. “What’s up?” She takes a seat and props her green pen against her notebook, a notebook that she already needs to replace soon because she’s on the last few pages.

  “I have a new project for you,” I say, calmly.

  “Oh fun. Okay. Does it have anything to do with the new kale smoothie I made you? I know it was a risk adding the chia seeds without your knowledge but they are really good for you.”

  It was a risk, but they were good. I enjoyed the new addition.

  “Nothing like that.” I steeple my fingers together on my desk “This is a new responsibility, a big project actually, one that you’ll be taking the lead and working with the art department on.”

  “Really?” She shifts in her chair, perking up, pen poised. “I’m intrigued, what is it?”

  “As you know, I had a meeting with the management staff two days ago. In the meeting we discussed the overall organization through the different departments and the efficiency th
at everyday tasks were being accomplished. I explained to them the process we have up here on the eighty-eighth floor and how well organized and efficient you are.”

  She fluffs her hair. “Do tell me more.”

  When she does shit like that, cute shit like that, it makes me want to do dirty things to her to counteract the cuteness. And that’s something I’ve become quite aware of, a feeling I’ve been earnestly tamping down.

  Keeping my voice still, I say, “I told them you have insightful ideas when it comes to organization, and I’d like to see those ideas on paper.”

  “Okay, so you want me to do a PowerPoint presentation or something?”

  I shake my head. “No, I want you to develop a task planner for the senior assistants to use to increase their day-to-day efficiency. I want you to work with the art department and create something inspiring, unique, something that will . . . move employees to work harder. Not that we’re having productivity issues, but I get the feeling that you’re not the only assistant who prefers using pen and paper over technology. I’d always believed it would slow an assistant down, but it doesn’t. Not for you anyway, and I wondered if there were other assistants who’d work more efficiently with your system. My guess is the art department would consider physical planners and online planners to run through our internal network.” She’s silent. Completely silent. I blink. Uhh. “Charlee?”

  Her jaw falls open. Shock hitting her first, followed by a vast array of emotions as her eyes well up with tears. “You’re kidding, right? This is a prank.” She looks around my office. “Is Ashton Kutcher going to laugh in my face while wearing a trucker’s hat any minute now?”

  “This isn’t a prank. I don’t joke about projects.” I keep a steely façade. “This is very much serious and I hope you take it that way. I want a companywide planner developed for all departments and you’re at the helm of the product design.”

  “Oh . . . my . . . God.” She waves her hand in front of her face and sucks in a deep breath. “Rath, I don’t think you know how magical this is for me.”

  I shuffle some papers around, feeling uncomfortable from her overwhelmed reaction. I know it’s a big deal for her and that she’s grateful, but receiving thanks is not easy for me.

  “Just make sure you do a good job,” I say, feeling stiff and awkward.

  Get it together, man.

  “Of course, I’ll do a good job. I’ll do an exceptional job because you gave me such a wonderful opportunity. And don’t worry, I won’t let this distract me from my everyday tasks with you.”

  “I know it won’t, because you’re good at prioritizing. I’d like to see a prototype next week.”

  “Yes, of course. Eeep.” She claps her hands and bounces in her chair. I divert my eyes away from her bouncing chest. Christ, when did I become such a pervert with this woman? “I want to give you a hug . . . badly, I’m a hugger, but I know we don’t do that.” She clenches her fists together. “Just envision me hugging you.”

  I can envision it all right and that’s the problem. I can envision her pert tits pressed against my rock-hard chest. I can envision the way her head fits right under my chin, or the way my hand casually rolls down her back until it hits the swell of her ass.

  I can envision way too much, and that’s why I’m staying on this side of my desk and not giving in to temptation.

  “Yes, well. Why don’t you go get started? I’ll send you an email with the two people you’ll be working with. Renita would also like to be involved. She’s keen to get started.”

  “Renita is lovely. I’d enjoy working with her. Before I go, is there anything else you need? Food, a drink . . . a pastry?”

  I shake my head. “I’m good.”

  She nods and stands but before she goes, she clutches her notebook to her chest and she says, “I want you to know how much this truly means to me, Rath, that you’re giving me this chance and putting trust in me to make something special for the company. It means the world to me.”

  She doesn’t have to tell me, I can see it written all over her face, and it fills an empty hole in my heart, seeing the joy she’s getting out of something I’m giving her.

  “Don’t let me down,” is all I say as she walks away. Once the door is shut, I lean back in my chair and let out a long breath of air.

  And then smile.

  I smile like a goddamn fool.

  Chapter Twelve

  CHARLEE

  “Aah, Linus.” I hop out of my seat at the restaurant and pull him into a hug. We decided to meet for lunch and catch up, since it’s been a few weeks since we talked.

  And because we’re efficient, he told me his order ahead of time, and I already put it in for us so we can have more time to talk rather than hem and haw over what to eat.

  “You look great,” he says, wrapping his arms around me. “Really amazing.”

  “Thank you.” We sit down and I motion to our salads. “Food just arrived.”

  “I like how you work.” He unfolds his napkin and sets it on his lap. “Okay, first things first, how do you like your new apartment? Is it in a killer location?”

  “Right around the corner from here. It’s breathtaking. I feel kind of wrong living there, and I’ve yet to unpack everything, which is very unlike me. I didn’t want to jinx it, you know?”

  “Well, especially after Rath’s trigger-happy firing on the first day.” He chuckles and moves his fork around his salad. “I still can’t believe you went back to work and acted like it never happened.”

  “It’s one way to secure a job.” I laugh. “But yes, I should have you over at some point, once I figure out all the boxes and whatnot.”

  “Please do, I want to see what kind of living I’ve been missing out on by turning down Rath’s job opportunities.”

  “If I were you, I’d be kicking myself in the ass.”

  “Don’t wound me,” he says, clutching his chest. “But I could never leave Bram. He’s like a brother to me now. I think he would drown and die a slow death if I ever left. Plus, it’s great leverage for more money.”

  “So true, you’re invaluable to him.” I pause for a drink and then ask, “Have you ever thought of moving up, doing something other than being someone’s executive assistant?”

  “Sometimes.” He shrugs his shoulders. “But I don’t know what I’d really want to do. I like my job. It might sound lame and like I have zero ambition, but I really like it.”

  I shake my head and press my hand to his forearm. “No, I think the same thing. I love being organized and helping someone keep their schedule. I like the unpredictability of what my day is going to be like and how I have a hand in bettering the company by working side by side with the CEO.”

  “Could not agree more. I know people would probably judge that way of thinking, but who cares, really? It’s what we like.”

  “Exactly and”—I smile so large that Linus halts the fork heading for his mouth—“last week, I was granted a new project.”

  “Really? What kind of project?”

  “Get this.” I look around and then lean forward as if it’s a secret. “Rath wants me to work with the art department on a company-wide planner to improve efficiency.”

  Linus gasps and drops his fork, then takes my hand in his. “Are you telling me that you’re designing your very own daily planner?” I nod enthusiastically. “Holy . . . shit.”

  “I know,” I squeal. “It’s like the office supply gods were listening and they granted me this one wish. Honestly, I’m beside myself. I can’t stop smiling when I’m at work and I’m starting to look like a loon. I think Rath is concerned with my psychosis.”

  “Charlee, you know what this means, right?”

  “What?” I ask, stuffing a giant forkful of salad into my mouth.

  “This means you have job security. I’ve known Mr. Westin for a long time now and I’ve seen his fair share of assistants. Never once has he ever done anything like this, plus . . .” He bites his bottom lip and looks awa
y.

  “What? Tell me.”

  “Ugh, I shouldn’t say, but . . . okay, promise you won’t say anything. You have to swear.”

  “I swear. Secret vault, you and me, nothing is said outside of this table.”

  “Okay.” He sets down his fork and whispers, “Mr. Westin was at the office the other day and I overheard him talking to Bram about you.”

  “Shut up. What did he say?” My mouth waters in anticipation.

  “I only heard bits and pieces of it, but he did say he actually liked the changes you made to the office and that there is some book, I couldn’t catch the title, but some book you made him read that really got his mind off things and helped him relax.”

  Oh my God.

  I throw my head back and laugh, drawing the attention of other patrons. “He did not say that. He really liked the book?”

  “Yeah, why is it so funny? What book did you give him?”

  Still laughing, I say, “A historical romance.”

  “Stop.” He laughs as well. “And he read it?”

  “Apparently he couldn’t stop.” I tap my chin. “Which gives me a task for tonight. Looks like I’ll be hitting up a bookstore for some more relaxing reads.”

  “Please tell me what you’re going to get for him.”

  “What kind of assistant would I be if I didn’t?”

  Linus laughs some more and then asks, “Think I could get Bram into them?”

  “He’s more of a softy than Rath. I think you could get him to read them easily. Especially if Rath has been boasting about them.”

  Linus looks at his watch and then says, “Think we can eat quick and hit up that bookstore before lunch is over?”

  “I accept your challenge.”

  * * *

  “Good morning, Mr. Westin.”

  He pauses right outside the elevator and lifts his brow. “Rath.”

  “I know, I know, but it just sounds more prestigious when I welcome the lord of the office by Mr. Westin first thing. Doesn’t it get your blood pumping?”