Page 3 of Romance with Mr. Bossy Pants

I turn to leave.

“Ms. Summers?” Sarah calls.

“Yes?”

“That’s a nice outfit you have on.”

“Thank you,” I reply. “I must stand out like a sore thumb, though.”

She glances around and drops her voice to a little above a whisper.

“From one employee to another, just take things slow, okay?”

I narrow my eyes, then smile.

“Thanks for the heads-up, but I’m sure I got this.”

“I’m sure you do,” she says. “Mrs. Chen from HR should be up soon to help you get settled.”

My smile grows even wider as I skip through the gleaming metal doors of the elevator. When I finally step out onto the top floor, there are several people moving around with boom mics and cameras.

At the center of the buzz is a lady with brunette hair talking into one of the cameras. She looks like a familiar face from television. I consider walking over to say hello. But then again, this could be a live transmission, so I stay back.

Nonetheless, I observe them for a while before walking away. As much as I’d love to do that someday, my job right now is behind the desk.

I stand in front of a frosted glass door. Etched on it is DANIEL ANDREWS, CEO.

Here goes nothing.

I knock on the door and wait a few seconds before turning the handle. There’s no one inside.

The office shares the same simple design as the rest of the building, characterized by a colorless palette. There are dull white walls adorned with numerous awards and minimalistic black-and-white objects on his glass desk. In the center, two sleek, black leather couches around a glass coffee table suggest they’re used for informal meetings.

I step out as quietly as I had stepped in. The office on the opposite side of the door has EXECUTIVE ASSISTANT written on it.

It shouldn’t hurt to take a little peek, I guess.

As I step in, the faint smell of mint and cinnamon fills the air. The interior is modern, yet as bland as every other space around here. I take deep breaths and walk over to the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The view is breathtaking. The city sprawls out below me, a sea of skyscrapers. I step back to my workspace. There are neatly filed folders arranged on both sides of my laptop. I reach for the topmost file and casually flip through it.

I hear footsteps approaching outside the ajar door and rush toward it.

Before I get there, it swings fully open. Standing in front of me is the captivating man from the entrance earlier, Daniel.

He’s even hotter up close. And for a minute, I’m sucked into the charm of his piercing blue eyes.

“Who are you?” he asks. His voice is deep, like a low growl, resonating with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine.

“Chloe Summers,” I say. “I’m your new Executive Assistant.”

He looks me over. Then his expression turns cold.

“Dressed like that?” His outburst catches me off-guard. I open my mouth to speak, but the words won’t form.

“Didn’t you read the new hire orientation packet?” He barks.

“I did. I was asked to dress appropriately.”

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