I’m alone.
I drop the suit over the desk chair, the high of being hired by Henry as his assistant dampened. While I never truly believed that Henry could be attracted to me, I must have been holding out some hope, some fantasy, that he might be. Now I know for certain that the looks, the moments, the erection pressing against my ass, were all wishful thinking on my part. I feel all the more ridiculous that my subconscious ever entertained such thoughts.
At least hearing it straight from his mouth will help me keep myself grounded and my head out of the clouds.
I shouldn’t let it get to me. I am a farm girl. I am insecure, especially after what happened with Jed. I wish I wasn’t so. And I would be stupid to believe that anything that’s happened equates to his attraction to me.
But the idea that he sees me as an insecure, stupid little girl pining for a spineless coward has slipped under my skin like a bothersome sliver.
Because, deep down inside, I know he’s right.
Enough already. It’s been three months, and Jed is dating someone else. I need to move on. I’m twenty-one years old, I’m in Alaska, and I need to let go.
And become someone that Henry not only trusts, but respects. After all, I’m going to be spending the next four months working for him.
He’s given me a job—a gift, really. I’m going to be the best assistant he could ask for.
Marching back to the desk, I collect the scrap of paper. “Cedric... Phil...” I read off my notes, all chicken scratch. Nearly illegible, even to me. “Oh, you’re going to regret this, Henry.” I dial the concierge desk.
“How may I be of assistance, Mr. Wolf?” A deep male voice croons.
“It’s not Mr. Wolf. It’s his personal assistant.” I try that on for size. It sounds weird. “Is Autumn there yet?”
Chapter Twelve
The main doorbell rings.
I pause mid e-mail. Is Henry expecting someone? I know he doesn’t want anyone in here.
A bellhop stands outside with a large rectangular box in his hand. “Delivery for Abbi Mitchell.”
“Me?” I frown, taking it from him. He trots off down the path, leaving me staring at the box with the Patagonia logo on top. It’s so light, it feels empty. I open it at the dining table to find something wrapped in tissue and a handwritten note sitting on top. My heart flutters as I recognize Henry’s writing from earlier today.
Deepest apologies for allowing a grizzly bear to eat your clothing.
And your turkey jerky.
P.S. They didn’t have pink, but I thought this would look nice on you.
I can’t keep the stupid grin from my face as I unwrap and pull the lightweight silver down vest out and hold it up in the sunlight. It’s soft and luxurious and the feel of it beneath my fingers tells me it’s probably three times more expensive than my Target special. Beneath it is a North Gate College black zip-up sweatshirt to replace the one dragged through the mud by the bear.
Warmth spreads through my chest. The ever-busy billionaire, who has a hotel opening today, took the time to order this and have it brought here. I can’t even say his assistant did it for him, because he didn’t have one until today. How did he find the time to take care of this? And so fast!
Something weighs the right-hand pocket down. When I reach and pull out a package of turkey jerky, I start to laugh, and it helps break the dark cloud that’s been hovering over me all morning.
~ ~ ~ ~
A flutter of nerves erupts when Henry strolls through the door at five, and my pulse instantly kicks into high gear.
The moment his eyes touch me, I begin apologizing. “I’m sorry. I’ve spent all day with your e-mail and calendar. I haven’t done much around here.”
His fingers fumble with his tie as he heads for his bedroom. “What does this week’s schedule look like for me?” The friendly tone from this morning is gone. He’s all business now.
I grab my iPad and quickly punch in the code to open up his calendar, something that took me hours to sort out. “I’m waiting for confirmations from a few people, but you will be booked solid from 5:00 to 8:00 a.m. every day.” He has, on average, seven meetings each morning, some of them for only fifteen minutes. I wouldn’t want to start my days like that, but I guess that’s why he’s so successful.
“Let me see the schedule?”
I step past the door as he’s reaching over the back of his head to pull off his t-shirt.
My breath catches at the sight of his smooth upper body, so perfectly honed with muscle. If this were a magazine picture, I’d assume it had been embellished, but he’s right here, in the flesh, his biceps and triceps bulging, his abdominal muscles a washboard of ripples, the grooves around his neck and collarbone begging for my fingers to touch them.
Henry makes Jed look like a scrawny boy by comparison.
And then there’s that trail of dark hair that runs downward, disappearing beneath his belt...
“Abbi?”
My eyes snap up to his face with the sound of my name. “Yes?” My voice is a croaky whisper.
He tosses his t-shirt into the hamper—which reminds me that I need to do his laundry—and then extends a large, manicured hand my way. “The schedule? Can I see it?”
Giving my head a shake, I rush forward, stumbling over the white fur rug but regaining my footing. “I color-coordinated the meetings based on area: green is the EU, blue is North America, yellow is Asia, pink is England.”
“Pink? Why pink for England?”
I shrug, blushing. “I like pink, and I’ve always wanted to go to England.”
A small frown zags over his brow. “Why England?”
“To see the royal family,” I admit, sheepishly. Ever since I was little, I’ve been fascinated by the idea of a real-life king and queen in a palace.
“Of course,” Henry mutters, and I instantly feel stupid.
Of course the silly little girl would want to go to England to see the queen, who’s not even our queen.
He studies the screen quietly, each moment passing twisting my stomach into tighter knots. I worked hard today. “This is...”
I hold my breath.
“Good. Very good. I had a feeling you’d hit the ground running.”
My chest warms with pride. I didn’t screw that up, at least. “I went through all of your e-mails, too, marking the time-sensitive ones and the progress reports. There were a few that I don’t know what to do with. I’ve dumped those into a folder marked ‘Needs Henry’s attention’.”
He hands the iPad back to me, our fingers grazing in the process. “You’ve picked up even faster than I expected.”
Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing, but I just poured myself a coffee, sat down, and began clicking. I’m glad it worked out. “I’ve ordered coffee delivery for 4:50 a.m. sharp and your poached eggs and fruit for six thirty.” Because, after tracking down the room service supervisor, I was able to confirm that that’s what he’s ordered the last few mornings, and I made an executive decision that that is what he’d have tomorrow. “If you want something else, please let me know. Cedric is on standby for 8:00 p.m. tonight and Phil will have the plane ready by 8:30 a.m. sharp.” Thank you, Autumn, for confirming that Cedric is the head sommelier and Phil is the pilot for the bear touring flights.
“Great. I need you to bump the dinner reservations up to six. The guys want an earlier dinner, given the time difference.”
Shit. “Lux might be full.” It is full, according to Rich, the reservation guy I spoke to. With the online dinner reservation service, today’s first guests have been booking for the past two weeks and the early spots filled up first.