Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
“What?”
I squinted at him. “Listen, I have no idea how you’re not grasping what I’m saying, but more importantly, where is your mobile device?”
“What?”
“Do you have a cell phone?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“Why?”
“I took notes,” I said like he was dumb, and really, I was starting to wonder about him. “And I need to get them to you.”
“What?”
“No, not again,” I snapped, seeing the phone under a coil-bound report and picking it up.
“Gimme that,” he ordered, rising out of his chair and trying to grab it out of my hand.
I eluded him easily, taking a step back, and when he came around the desk, I slipped around the other side, barely avoiding getting tangled in the lamp cord precariously draped between the outlet and his desk—the layout was not only poorly executed, but dangerous.
“Stop moving,” he growled.
“You first,” I volleyed, calling my phone from his and storing his number, all the while keeping one eye on him.
Of course when I focused on my phone for a moment, that was the second he tripped on the lamp cord, fell over, and had the really ugly brass lamp come crashing down on his head.
“Fuck!” he roared.
Text sent, I put his phone down on the nightmare of a desk—I had no idea how he found anything on it—and darted for the door.
“Don’t you dare leave me!”
Not where do you think you’re going, or stay where you are, or don’t take one step out of that door! Instead, what came out of the man’s mouth was don’t you dare leave me! He had no idea how important the me was, but I heard it loud and clear.
At which point I spun around, went back, and crouched down beside him. “Please let me take a look at you and make sure you’re not bleeding.”
“Oh, now you’re worried?” He was both surly and sarcastic at the same time. It was impressive. “I thought you were running?”
I exhaled sharply. “Just let me see,” I ordered, reaching for him.
He leaned away. “The lamp’s not even heavy, I’m fine.”
We were both quiet a moment.
“You are aware that your desk is where paperwork goes to die.” He needed to be told and perhaps no one ever had.
“I am,” he snarled. “Why do you think I need an assistant?”
Picking up the undented, unbroken abomination of a brass desk lamp, I watched as he sat up and crossed his legs like he was about to do yoga. Both the man and his office were a rumpled mess that needed help.
“This lamp is hideous.”
“Yes.”
“I’m hoping it was a gift.”
“It was.”
I was glad to hear it. At least I knew his taste didn’t run to horrible.
“The layout in here makes zero sense,” he muttered. “It’s a wonder I’m not dead.”
“Perhaps not dead, but certainly concussed.”
He shrugged.
“I think her name is Georgia.”
“What?”
I glared at him. “You must begin to make quicker intuitive leaps or this can never work.”
“What makes you think—”
“Faster,” I gave the command, snapping my fingers.
It took him only a moment. “Oh, the other assistant.”
“Very good.”
“Is she an ass like you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
He gestured at me. “You know you’re a dick. Come on.”
I tsked at him.
“Pass me the phone.”
“Your cell or the monster on your desk?”
“The monster.”
I stood up and passed him the phone that could have twelve lines holding at once—it was a beast—and watched him as he first put it in his lap and then picked up the handset. I was then informed that he was calling HR. “Hey, is this Rebecca? It is Rebecca, isn’t it?” He listened a moment. “Tanya. Really?”
“Oh dear God,” I groaned. The man didn’t even know who the head of HR was?
“Zip it,” he growled, then, “Oh no, not you,” he advised Tanya. “Okay, so, I would prefer to have—” He looked up at me in question, eyebrows raised.
“Paxton Walsh.”
“—Paxton Walsh be my assistant.”
He was quiet, taking in whatever she was saying, and then pressed the handset to his chest instead of putting the call on hold. “Apparently Georgia—good memory, by the way—”
“Better than yours.”
“What?”
I stared at him, waiting for him to catch up.
“Oh, yeah, well, I was eighty percent sure her name was Rebecca.”
“There has to be an organizational chart here somewhere,” I said sadly, glancing around at the boxes on the floor and then at the mess on his desk.
“It’s probably under something.” He pointed over his head at the same horror show I was eying. “But I guess Georgia came up here fifteen minutes ago, heard me curse out a police officer, and ran back to HR. She’s too scared to come back.”
“You are loud.”
“I fell!” he yelled defensively.
“Modulate,” I ordered him.
“I fell,” he repeated with much less volume.
“You scared her before you were chasing me around the desk,” I reminded him.
“Oh yeah.”
“You need to take a beat here,” I cautioned him. “From the few mere moments of interaction we’ve had together, we can already assume that if I work for you, I’ll probably drive you insane.”