“Hi…umm…I’m supposed to see Mr. Wes–” I stuttered.
“Mr. Weston’s in his office down the hall.” She eyed me up and down and sniffed as if she smelled something foul. “He likes us to be prompt and you are,” she looked at the clock on the wall pointedly, “a minute late.” She lowered her head, dismissing me.
Feeling duly chastened, I almost sprinted down the hall.
Wham!
“Fuck!” The expletive flew out of my mouth as I bounced off a brick wall. My purse flew off my shoulders. My body tilted backwards and my arms wheeled to save myself, but I knew it was too late. I was going to fall on my ass right outside my boss’s door.
Steel arms wrapped around my waist and hauled me upright.
“Shit! I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there. Are you alright?” Blue-green eyes looked down at me with concern.
I blinked to clear my vision. Surely this Greek god wasn’t talking to me?
My fanciful comparison wasn’t too far from reality. He looked like Apollo come to life, tall and handsome, with perfect caramel blond hair, a long nose and full lips. His skin was sun kissed, making his aquamarine eyes all the more captivating. The only thing missing was the toga. Instead, he was dressed in a dark gray suit which had clearly been custom made for him. Although, based on my collision with his hard body, he’d probably look good in a toga too.
A hand waved in front of my face. “Hey? Are you okay?” His dark blond brows furrowed.
Blood rushed to my face. Snap out of it, Cora. You’re gaping at him like the village idiot.
I dropped my gaze to buy time to pull myself together. “Um…sorry. That was totally my fault. I didn’t mean to ram into you.”
He chuckled, humor transforming him into someone who looked friendly and approachable. His eyes twinkled and his lips quirked in amusement. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve survived worse than a beautiful woman throwing herself at me.”
My jaw dropped in outrage. “I was not throwing–”
“What the hell is going on here?” The hard demanding voice jerked my attention to the man standing in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest.
Shit! One glance and I knew it was my boss, Jake Weston.
My first thought was: if the blond was Apollo, then surely this man was Ares, God of War.
My second thought was: the photos on the Internet did not do him justice. In person, his very being emanated barely leashed power.
He was over six feet tall, with broad shoulders tapering in an inverted triangle to lean hips. Through the expensive wool of his suit, I could make out hints of his muscular build in the tightness around his biceps and quads.
His raven black hair was thick and silky, with the barest hint of curl above his ears. His olive-colored skin glowed with health and vitality. His face was all harsh lines and planes, his cheekbones sharp and his mouth a bold slash. Eyes of a familiar and mesmerizing shade of blue stared at me with predatory stillness.
Jake Weston was gorgeous in the same way a samurai sword would be– dangerously lethal.
There was something in his gaze that sent alternating cold and hot tendrils down my spine.
His eyes, devoid of any humor, snapped to my waist and only then did I realize I was still standing in the circle of the stranger’s arms. Embarrassed, I stepped back.
“Umm…I bumped into…that is…” I fumbled for an explanation.
“Don’t scare the poor girl to death, Jake. It was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going and ran her over.”
Apollo angled his head away from Mr. Weston and winked at me. He bent down to pick up my purse and handed it to me with a flourish.
“Thanks.” I hooked it over my shoulder.
He stuck out his hand. “I’m Troy Weston, by the way.”
I shook his hand, grateful he was willing to take the blame. “I’m Cora Branton.” This must be Jake’s brother, the Chief Financial Officer of Weston Enterprises. If it weren’t for their unique eyes, I would never have guessed them to be brothers.
Comprehension dawned on his face. “Oh, you’re Jake’s new EA.” I tried to draw my hand back, but he held on firmly. “Welcome, Cora! It’s a pleasure. If you are free today, I’d love to take you to lunch to celebrate your first day. And to apologize for almost flattening you, of course.”
He smiled charmingly and I made a mental note to watch myself around him. Troy Weston had lady-killer written all over him.
I heard something like a growl emerge from my boss, but when I glanced over, his expression was blank. I didn’t miss the irritation in his voice though. “Ms. Branton, you’ve already disrupted my morning with your tardiness and your shenanigans. If you would kindly step into my office, I would like to go over your duties as my new assistant.” He turned to Troy and said coldly, “She will be too busy today to have lunch with you. In fact, we’d probably have to lunch in for the rest of the week.”
He turned on his heels and walked into his office, the expectation I would follow him without delay hovering in the air.
I withdrew my hand from Troy’s clasp. For some reason, his grin had broadened after hearing his brother’s harsh words. It was probably some weird sibling dynamics, I thought. “Thanks for the offer. I better get to work.”
“See you later, Cora. Don’t let the big bad wolf scare you. He doesn’t bite…much,” he whispered with a gleeful look on his face before he sauntered down the hallway.
I grimaced and spun to face the door. Inhaling deeply, I straightened my clothes and marched in with my head held high.
I took a moment to study the front office– my future work area. The wooden desk was angled to face the door, but still allowed a modicum of privacy. On top of it were a new laptop and a tablet. An ergonomic chair was pushed against the desk, awaiting its new occupant. It looked like a comfortable and welcoming space. Its only downside was its proximity to a man who was coldly dismissive of those around him.
Jake Weston’s office door was wide open and I paused on the threshold. He stood looking out of the floor-to-ceiling windows, feet braced slightly apart and hands folded behind his back. In the sunlight his hair still looked midnight black, with no glints of brown or red. He looked hard and unapproachable, like a pillar of granite.
The view of Lake Michigan and the Chicago skyline behind him was breathtaking and if he weren’t there, I would stand for hours with my face pressed against the glass.
His office was modern and minimal. Most people had little mementos, which revealed something personal about them– photos, or souvenirs– but I couldn’t see anything that told me about my new boss as a person.
A computer and very little clutter sat on a gleaming black desk facing the door. His chair was a tall leather seat that looked like it could have been designed by NASA. On one side of the room sat a glass conference table with eight chairs surrounding it.
“Mr. Weston, I apolog–” I started to say as I stepped into the office.
He imperiously raised his hand to stop my apology. “I don’t want to hear excuses. I expect everyone to show up on time at Weston Enterprises. I will overlook it this once since Troy delayed you, but please don’t waste any more of my time.”
I bit back the blistering comeback on the tip of my tongue.
Breathe, Cora. Play the long game.
A light bulb went off. Trying to sound contrite, I said, “Of course, sir. I’m not used to the high standards of being an executive assistant for a CEO. Perhaps someone else may be better suited for the position? I’m sorry to be a disappointment, but I’ll go downstairs and have Stewart send up a more experienced replacement.” Inside, I was pumping my fist at my inspired remarks, but I kept my outward demeanor sober.
He turned around, pinning me under his gaze and I wondered if I had overplayed my hand. Instead of looking annoyed, he seemed almost amused by my suggestion. My impression was confirmed by the small curve playing at the corner of his lips.