Page 3 of Boss Daddy's Girl

"Never mind."

The cabin starts to fill up, and I'm getting a little queasy. It's so cramped and warm, and I don't enjoy flying even at the best of times. At least it's only an hour and a half to Salt Lake City, where the World Outdoor Climbing Conference is being held. My boss is apparently done talking, leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed. He doesn't even open them when someone loudly plops into the aisle seat next to me, bumping me with their elbow. Ugh. I should have just told him there were no flights this early.

Instead of giving in to my nerves, I sneak another look at my employer and feel my heart flip flop in my chest. God, he's so sexy. The former rockstar climber is currently wearing an expression of mild annoyance, which is pretty much his default expression when he's not smiling that devastating smile of his.

I've seen him use it to disarm many women, and it works every time. No one can resist Drake Evans, and he knows it. He's used that smile on me a few times. It always leaves me feeling breathless and a little dumb. The difference is that I've trained myself not to react when he aims it my way, and I know not to let it get to me. Not that he uses it on me all that often. Drake controls me via my admittedly amazing paycheck, not through his good looks.

I'm a bit of an anomaly, I suppose. I'm the only female assistant Drake has ever had and the only assistant to last more than two weeks. For all his charm, Drake isn't easy to work for. He's supremely confident, impulsive, stubborn, and has a tendency to disregard the needs of anyone but himself. When he was a world-class climber, those traits were necessary not just to succeed but to survive. But when Drake retired from climbing the biggest peaks after summiting Everest and started his own climbing gear company, he needed a right-hand man or woman to keep his wild ambition in check and ensure his company's success.

I wasn't Drake's first or even his third choice, but I’m the right person for the job. I'm organized, detail-oriented, and able to multitask. More importantly, I can keep up with him, whether he's climbing a wall or planning a press junket.

No one expected his company, Dragon Ascent, to take off the way that it did. But Drake was already a bit of a celebrity for having the face and body of a god and the talent to back it up. It gave the fledgling company the boost it needed to become the leading climbing gear company on the market. He has the experience to know what he wants out of the gear he sells, and he has the trust of other climbers.

Now, three years later, the company is worth millions.

That's why we're here. We're going to Salt Lake City for the World Outdoors Climbing Conference, an international conference where outdoor athletes and equipment companies come together. He'll give a talk, demonstrate his newest gear, and sign autographs. Meanwhile, I'll be running around, ensuring everything runs smoothly, keeping the schedule, and, most importantly, him on track.

He's intense, stubborn, and used to getting what he wants. He can be downright impossible.

He's also the hottest man on the planet, which adds an extra layer to the difficulty of working with him. Despite all of that, and the wild attraction I feel towards him, I've lasted a year as his assistant. Apparently, Drake likes me well enough, too, considering how many times he's told me I'm not allowed ever to quit.

I can't imagine life without him anymore, honestly. But I'll never tell him that.

There have been sparks between us, at least on my end, since the very beginning, but they were furious sparks at first. I found out about the job opening through a friend of mine and quickly applied for the position of Drake's assistant. I'd been bouncing around from job to job after graduating from business school, and being the right-hand girl of the CEO of a new and wildly successful company seemed like a dream come true.

I got to the interview fifteen minutes early. Drake Evans, on the other hand, was sixty minutes late. I counted.

To add insult to injury, he was also carrying a bag of takeout sushi, which he seemed more than happy to eat in front of me ashe conducted the sham of an interview—all the while staring at my bare legs encased in my favorite pinstripe pencil skirt.

When he finally did ask a question, it was inane, and I was so flustered by his behavior that I ended up telling him what an asshole he was. I was kicking myself for giving up the chance at a seemingly perfect job until the next day when an email appeared in my inbox, asking me to show up for work Monday morning.

In the year that followed, I got to know him better. I quickly discovered that Drake wasn't a total asshole but undeniably hard to please. He didn't want a yes man; he wanted someone who could hold her own and think on her feet. And I do, usually. We're a good fit for each other. I keep the chaotic, easily distracted, stubborn climber on track, and he keeps me on my toes. Sometimes, when he is being truly impossible, I don't mind the occasional "Yes, sir."

If I were a little braver, a little more self-assured, I'd even be open to a "Yes, sir. Harder."

The thought makes my face heat, and I raise my hands to cover my cheeks, accidentally knocking my elbow into the arm of the man in the aisle seat, who glares. Right. I need to remain as still as possible to get through the flight.

We planned our trip to the annual conference weeks ago. It’s one of the biggest events of the year in the industry. Dragon Ascent has a prominent booth, and the Dragon Ascent team has a schedule packed with appearances and workshops.

Drake Evans himself has a full schedule, too. I'm still not sure how much of it he's going to drag me along to, but I'm getting a hefty bonus just for coming and my own swanky hotel room. Plus, it's a chance to network and expand my skills.

I just need to make it through a one-and-a-half-hour flight and a week of Drake Evans.

2

DRAKE

Climbing Breaking the Wheel should have been a breeze and a quick one at that. Instead, catching up with friends and an admittedly large amount of chit-chat made the short climb turn into a much longer one, and now I'm pretty sure Elanore White will strangle me.

If I'm lucky, she'll do the strangling with those gorgeous legs of hers, and I'll die a happy man.

Right now, though, she's sitting on the hood of the rented car, her legs crossed and a look of white-hot, unadulterated fury on her face.

She's so fucking hot when she's angry, and she doesn't even know it. I weigh the idea of telling her just to see how much angrier I can make her but decide against it. After all, I did fuck up this time. Not that I'd ever admit it.

"What happened to three hours?" she demands, hopping down from the hood of the sleek white Cadillac and stomping towards me. The group of my mates behind me hoot and holler, but I turn around and give them a look that silences them immediately.

"Time got away from us," I tell her. "It just happens sometimes. You should know this by now. You've been with me for, what, four months now?"

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