Page 19 of Promise Me Forever

“Perhaps she can work your coffee machine.” Nathan claps his brother on his back. He either hasn’t picked up on the tension or he’s choosing to ignore it.

“Stupid thing is broken,” Drake snaps, his mood much sourer than the last time I saw him. Which is unsurprising, as the last time I saw him involved nudity and orgasms. The memory unfurls in my mind’s eye, and an unwelcome warmth spreads through my core.

Dammit, Amelia. Imagining the boss making you come is so unprofessional.

“I could take a look?” I offer cautiously, still entirely unsure how to navigate the incredible awkwardness of this entire situation. Coffee seems as good a place to start as any.

Frowning, Drake glances between his brother and me as though he’s trying to decide what to say next.

He’s saved from the moment by the arrival of Satan’s handmaiden, or Linda from HR as some people know her. “The briefing is about to start,” she announces as she walks toward us. Her nose is wrinkled like she smells something off, and she glares at me. Does she know I’ve already screwed the boss, or is this her default setting?

“There’s no need for either Drake or I to attend, Linda. We’re well aware of our HR policies,” Nathan says dryly. Huh. I wonder if this situation right here is covered in those policies.

Linda purses her lips and looks me up and down, assessing me and finding me not quite up to par. “Actually, I was thinking our newest employee should attend. These policies are important, Mr. James.”

Nathan runs a hand though his hair and laughs. “They are, I agree, but on her first day? We don’t want to scare her off now, do we?”

I feel like I’ve walked into the twilight zone and have no idea what to say or how to behave. All my instincts are telling me to run, but I can’t.

After a few tense moments, it’s Drake who answers. “That sounds like a great idea, Linda.”

I glance briefly in his direction, and he avoids my gaze. So he does remember me. Well enough to want to get rid of me, at least. Of course he does. He might have spent more time with his head between my thighs in twelve hours than my ex-husband did in twelve years, but I’m fairly sure he looked at my face as well, at least when we were getting to know each other before all the naked time started.

“You can follow me,” Linda says. “And make sure you pay attention.” I can’t help pulling a little face at her back as she strides away. She reminds me of Miss Trunchbull fromMatilda. I do as she says, though, because Drake isn’t the only one who needs some respite. I feel like I haven’t drawn a proper breath in the last five minutes, and getting away from him will give me time to pull myself together.

I leave my purse on my office chair as I pass, because it makes me feel like I’ve claimed it. Like Drake will walk out of his office and see it there and have second thoughts about firing me on my first day. It’s only a purse and it’s only a chair, but it’s all I have to cling to right now.

After listeningto the snoozefest that was the James and James HR policies briefing, I head back to my desk, wondering howlong it will actually be my desk. I did pay particular attention to the policy regarding office relationships, and while they are not encouraged, they’re not explicitly banned. However, the employees must disclose any relationship to HR in case it impacts the firm or its reputation in any way.

I suspect that having to reveal intimate details about your private life to Linda would be enough to nip any office romance in the bud. Hopefully, the policy doesn’t count if it’s retrospective, because I really don’t want to have to write a memo about how many times Drake James made me come on our one night together.

There’s a bright yellow Post-it Note on my desk, sitting right beside my welcome basket. I bite my lip when I see it, afraid it’s a particularly slapdash way of giving me the boot. He wouldn’t, would he? I mean, he was cold the next morning, sure, but nothing implied he was the kind of bastard who would destroy someone’s career for accidentally sleeping with him. But what do I know? He is a stranger, after all. And that stranger now has an awful lot of power over my life.

He could fire me. He could refuse to give me a reference. He could make my professional world hell. Whatever is written on that Post-it Note might set the tone.

I’m flooded with relief when I actually pick it up and read it. No mention of me facing a firing squad—just a scrawled message giving me the password to his online calendar and a request for me to start organizing his schedule. I sink down onto my chair and fan myself with the flimsy paper. There will undoubtedly be tricky situations to work through, but this is a start.

I glance at the closed door behind me, wondering if he’s in there. Maybe he’s brooding at his desk like some sort of angry demigod, wondering how he managed to screw his new secretary. Maybe he’s wondering how long he needs to keep me around until it’s acceptable to say it hasn’t worked out. Or maybeI’m giving myself way too much credit. Hell, maybe he screws all of his assistants and I’m nothing special. It’s possible that every woman he comes into contact with simply drops her panties at his feet and begs for his magic touch. That could be why Linda looks like she’s permanently sucking a lemon and why he wasn’t at all affected by me walking into his office.

Seeing him, realizing who he was, was one of the most jaw-droppingly awful moments of a life that has included quite a few awful moments. I wanted to faint, throw up, and run away—not necessarily in that order. It was a miracle I didn’t crawl beneath my desk and start singing nursery rhymes.

He, however, barely reacted. He looked cool as a cucumber sandwich on a bed of iceberg lettuce. Only his coffee machine seemed to dredge up any kind of emotion from him. I’m definitely overreacting if the man is more emotional about a coffee machine than he is about me.

My stomach growls, reminding me that I’m starving. I was too nervous to eat breakfast this morning, even before discovering that Scarlet’s guilty secrets had come back to haunt her. The HR briefing lasted three-and-a-half hours, and now my body is begging to be fed. I’m sure I’m allowed a lunch hour, but this has been a crazy day so far, and I don’t want to make any assumptions. I better check and be ready to accept the possibility that I will be eating nothing but the contents of a fruit basket all afternoon.

I take a deep breath and stand outside his door, my hand poised to knock. What if he’s in a meeting? What if he’s on the phone? What if he has a woman in there with him? I blow out a breath, disgusted at my own nerves. If I’m going to keep this position, which it seems I am, for the time being at least, then I’m going to have to interact with him. I should know if he has a meeting or if he’s on the phone. Hell, I should even know if he has a woman in there, and if he does, I guess I should alsofind out when her birthday is and whether she likes diamonds or pearls.

I shake my head, annoyed at my uncharacteristic pettiness. That’s not a part of my job, and neither Drake nor Nathan strike me as the kind of men who’d ask such a thing of their secretaries. They’re too professional. And I can be professional too. Iamprofessional. What happened between Drake and me was a mistake. Had we known, I’m sure we both would have behaved very differently. That was the past, and I need to focus on the future. Would Kimmy be standing here trembling? Would Emily? No, they damn well wouldn’t.

Pep talk administered, I roll my shoulders back and knock on his door. A second later, he calls out for me to come in, his voice still as deep and dark as rich melted chocolate. It’s all good and well telling myself it was a mistake, that it was in the past, but why does he have to sound like that? Why does he have to look so good? It doesn’t seem fair.

Gingerly, I push open his door and step inside. He sits behind his desk against the backdrop of the Manhattan skyline. I was too stunned to take in the sight earlier, but it is truly breathtaking. The floor-to-ceiling windows reveal a spectacular view, but even that doesn’t stop my eyes from drifting to Drake. His tie is pulled loose and his hair isn’t quite as neat as it was a few hours ago, as if he’s been running his hands through it. I remember how thick and soft that hair is, what it felt like to runmyhands through it… Dammit. This is not good.

“Did you need something?” His clipped tone snaps me out of my torrid thoughts.

I tip my jaw up, determined not to look as bothered as I feel. This is a normal business relationship, after all. “I just wondered if I had time to get some lunch before I started work on your calendar?”

He glances at his watch before returning his attention to his computer screen. “Of course.”

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