Page 2 of Assistant to the Mafia

Grace sat back in her chair to avoid compulsively breaking something. Or worse, throwing something she might need later across the room. “Cait, how many times do I have to tell you? I’m not a secretary. I would expect a lawyer to understand that.” Movement in her peripheral vision caught her eye and Grace pushed out a breath. “I don’t have five minutes for you right now, anyway. So if no one’s dying, I have to go. Call me back if there’s something important.”

She disconnected to the sound of her sister’s satisfyingly undignified sputtering and looked up again in time to see the CEO of DS Industries, Dante De Salvo, stride into the spacious room that functioned as her office. She pushed to her feet before she even registered the pair of steaming coffees in his hands. “Good morning, Mr. De Salvo.”

He held out the cup in his left hand, the office light briefly reflecting off the uniquely stylized wedding band that decorated his ring finger. “I heard you were waiting on a delivery, thought this might tide you over. Hard time getting ready this morning, Grace?”

She smiled almost sheepishly, accepted the cup, and allowed herself five seconds to breathe in the aroma. It wasn’t from her favorite local shop, but the office did supply good coffee, too. “You could say that.” She certainly couldn’t explain that morning’s particularly hang-ups to her boss, who also happened to be the brother of her ill-advised crush.

His head tipped to the side. “Work call or personal?”

She blinked at him. The main hall was paneled with glass between the lobby space and the elevator, enabling her to see who came and went, but she still felt surprised he’d noticed from there that she had been speaking to someone. “My sister,” she said. She shrugged. “It didn’t seem important, so I told her I couldn’t talk.”

Dante sipped at his coffee, which also looked to be from the office supply judging from the cup, before saying, “I can probably give you a few minutes if you need to call her back.”

Grace shook her head. “She’ll pester me if it really was urgent. It’s nothing to worry about, sir.” She took a large swallow of the deliciously scalding liquid in her own cup, then lowered back to her chair. “I haven’t gotten through the emails yet, but there is a new one from Richardson.” She skimmed the subject line and winced. “He doesn’t sound like he’s come around.”

Dante grunted and continued forward. “Read it, but let it wait unless it sounds compelling. We have more amenable business to tackle today.” He paused at the door to his private office and glanced over his shoulder. “Iris should be dropping by around noon for lunch. Keep my calendar clear.”

“Of course, Mr. De Salvo.” Grace reached for a pen, switched her coffee to her other hand, and jotted a note to herself while her boss slipped into his office. It was up to him whether or not his mid-morning meeting ended in time, but she could certainly not schedule anything that conflicted. He didn’t have another appointment before two, and likely he knew that. She fought back a giggle as she returned her attention to the emails. She’d never known her scowly boss had it in him to be such an enamored, doting husband, but he definitely was. She found it adorable.

She gulped down some more coffee and opened the oldest email. It was possible some part of her was also jealous. Not in the coveting-her-friend’s-man way, but in the lonely-nights way. It was hard to date when her life was consumed by work, and the few times she did get out to try, they inevitably ended in disaster. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a third date. Hell, she could hardly remember the last time she’d had a first date. So she figured she was allowed to feel a few twinges of discontent as she sat on the sidelines and watched other people do the romantic things.

It would probably also really help if she could get Romeo out of her head. She could not afford to even indulge that fantasy, not with how closely she worked with his brother—and sometimes the man himself.

The thought was barely through her head when her gaze alighted on another email that had come in overnight. It was addressed to her, requesting Dante’s attention, but it was from Romeo’s assistant. Something twisted in Grace’s stomach as she skipped ahead to click on it, her eyes soaking up the abrupt message.

You have got to be kidding me.

Grace blew out a breath, gulped down the last of her coffee, and pushed to her feet. She strode across the space between her desk and her boss’s door and knocked twice.

“Come in, Grace.”

She took only a single step inside, unsurprised to see him on his own computer. She didn’t wait for him to turn his stare on her before speaking. “Tina emailed in her resignation last night, effective immediately. She says she’s sick of these Jersey winters and is moving somewhere warmer.”

Dante leaned back in his chair, looking at her now. “Romeo’s Tina?”

Grace fought to keep her displeasure at the simple question off her face. “Yes, sir.”

Dante’s brow pinched. “See if you can convince her to come in for at least a couple of days while we find a stand-in. Remind her about her employee agreement.”

Grace nodded. “Yes, sir.” She slipped from the room and reached straight for the phone as soon as her butt hit the chair. If Tina refused to come in and do the bare minimum, the slack would fall to her. And no matter how much she liked and might even desire to work closer to Romeo, Grace was only one woman. She couldn’t do two full-time jobs simultaneously.

Tina answered after the third ring, sounding exhausted. Or half asleep, maybe. “You must’ve got my email.”

Grace drummed her perfectly manicured nails on the desktop. “Yes, Tina, I got your email. And we both know you can’t just walk out without notice. You signed a contract that stipulates—”

“I don’t care,” Tina snapped. “Do you know what I do care about? My heater cut out two days ago, and somehow it doesn’t matter that I can afford to fix it, I can’t get anyone to do the fucking job. Or find the part. I’m fucking cold, Grace. And I’m sick of it. Frankly, I’m sick of that hyper-demanding, ungrateful job, too. Everything gets dumped in our laps and those bastards barely remember to say ‘thank you’ when we save their asses. I’m so fucking over it.”

Grace caught herself gaping at a thankfully empty office. “If you hate your job, then you’re right, you should quit.” She sharpened her own tone, unappreciative of being barked at or of the idiocy of expecting to be thanked for doing the things expected of her. “However, that doesn’t mean you get to violate your contract. I really shouldn’t have to explain to you the consequences—”

“What consequences? Losing my last paycheck?” Tina scoffed. “They can keep the damn thing! I’m already out. I left on Saturday. By the time I sent that email, I was out of state. Sorry, Grace, but I wouldn’t come back right now if you put a gun to my head.” She hung up before Grace could do more than draw breath to respond.

Grace bit her lips to hold in her frustration. Of all the people. She hadn’t exactly been friends with Tina, but the woman had been assistant to the COO for years. If anyone should have understood the mess she was making and now dumping in someone else’s lap, it was her. She had a lot of nerve for claiming to hate the unfair workload of the job. She seemed to have a lot of attitude in general, actually.

Blowing out a hard breath, Grace went back into the email and forwarded it to her boss along with a message relaying the phone call she’d just had. She debated CC’ing the email to Romeo, whom she noticed had not been included in the original, but opted to not overstep. A decision which she found herself questioning even after the task was done. If she weren’t feeling hyper self-conscious about all things Romeo, would she have hesitated to include him?

She couldn’t say.

So she pushed the concern as far from her mind as she could and aimed her attention to her remaining emails. It was finally six o’clock, the rest of the staff should have started pouring in, and that meant her preferred coffee order should be on its way up the elevator any minute. She still had another email of Wesley Richardson’s whining to get through, now she had to put together at least some basic criteria for a new assistant position as well as begin evaluating in-house employees for eligibility, and she had at least a dozen follow-up calls to slog through before noon.

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