Page 12 of Romance with Mr. Bossy Pants

Daniel

Chloe clutches her purse close to her body, wearing a smile.

As stressed out as she looks, her eyes still sparkle as they had when she first showed up at my office this morning.

There’s something about the glint in her eyes as she smiles. Only her eyes are fixed on Michelle and Michelle is grinning back at her. It’s the warmest I’ve seen Michelle with anyone in a long time.

A gust of cool air breezes inside. Chloe tugs her blazer tightly over her body.

“Come in, Chloe,” I say, stepping away from the door.

“I really should be heading home. It’s late.”

“The little lady insists.”

She nods. Michelle ushers her inside, walking a little ahead of her.

“So, you’re an Executive Assistant?” Michelle asks. “Sounds like a cool title. But I bet it’s boring.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, all Dad talks about are a bunch of meetings and numbers. Doesn’t sound like fun to me.”

“Not in the least.” Chloe laughs. “I bet you won’t mind if it came with a whole wardrobe of custom-made outfits and shoes. Or free meals.”

Chloe sits on the brown couch and takes a look around. I naturally follow her eye movements, which now rest on the television screen above the fireplace.

“If they’re anything like the kind I find around Dad’s office, I’ll pass.”

They both seem oblivious to my presence. I clear my throat at Michelle’s comment, but neither of them budge.

“I hear you. We just have to look the part at the office.”

“And other offices?”

“I get to dress the way I want, whether it’s a pink dress or ripped denim with a red blazer.”

Michelle smirks. “Are you sure you work in Dad’s office?”

Chloe looks in my direction with that challenge in her eyes again. “Yep.”

“Why don’t we give Chloe a breather, honey?” I say. “I’m sure she must be pretty exhausted.”

Michelle rolls her eyes and heads to the kitchen.

Chloe clears her throat. She doesn’t lose her smile as she stares at me. Her necklace rests above her chest, the gold pendant gleaming in the light from the living room.

I wrench my eyes away. The last thing I need is work creeping into my personal thoughts, especially with a new Assistant who's barely proven herself.

I open the binder to review her work. To my surprise, she has effectively organized each of the five proposals I plan to present at the next meeting. Not only does she recreate what was ruined, she revamps everything by including added text and visual elements, making the presentations more cohesive and formal. The floor plans are more detailed, the slides have more depth, the notes are more intricate, and the agendas are carefully curated. If I were part of the Nexus team, I wouldn’t know which plan to go with for the convention.

I flip through the different pages, scanning for spelling errors or formatting issues. That’s where most people get it wrong. Even the most experienced eyes often skip over something.

So far, nothing.

“You did all of this today?” I ask.

“Half a day, actually,” she corrects. “Spent most of the time trying to make out the original words hidden underneath the coffee stain.”

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