Page 10 of (Un)Planned

“What the fuck…”I whispered as I walked into my office a couple of days later. The room was unrecognizable. Itlooked like someone had broken in, but instead of stealing from me, they replaced all my furniture.

Gone was the black leather couch, replaced by a much more comfortable and warm-looking brown loveseat and two armchairs. There was even a new rug in the middle of my office, lines of dark red and brown weaved together in an intricate pattern. Framed artwork lined my walls, and my collection of signed photographs from my clients had migrated from a box in my apartment to a shelf on the far side of the room.

What the fuck had she done?

“Calla!” I yelled into the hallway. There was only one person who could be responsible for this: the woman who had somehow managed to convince me to give her the corporate credit card, as well as a key to my apartment and the office, within hours of working here. What the fuck had she slipped into my coffee?

Three days.Calla had worked for me for three days, and she was already causing chaos. Marie had asked to redecorate my office for years, and I always declined. I liked my things a certain way, needing order to function correctly. Now, it looked like Pottery Barn had thrown up in my space. When I told her she could buy some things for the office, I assumed she’d buy a couple of paintings, maybe some new furniture for the lobby. I didn’t think she’d dothis.

Calla stepped into my office and dropped into the armchair across from me. “Yes, Mr. Ayad?”

I stepped over to my desk, placing my hands on the cool, smooth surface. I tried to breathe to calm the fury inside of me. I wanted to scream. I wanted to fire her.

And with that smug smile on her face, I wanted tobend her over that chair and slap her ass until my handprint was branded on her skin.

What the hell?

I wished I could say this was the first time I’d had an inappropriate thought about my cheeky new assistant. I blamed the tight little skirts and dresses she insisted on wearing. Maybe I could convince her to try a new style, one that didn’t make her subtle curves drive me to distraction.

I shook my head, trying to recenter. “What did you do?”

“It looks great, right?” Calla smiled. “Less sterile and more personality. It’ll be good for your clients to feel comfortable here. How much do you love it?”

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Calla…” I sighed, drawing out each syllable. “I meant making sure we had enough computers, enough equipment for everyone, make sure that the conference room is good to go. Not redecorate my fucking office.” Each word was a struggle, and I was barely keeping my temper in check. “I should fire you.”

I swore she rolled her eyes. After a couple of days of working together, Calla had grown more comfortable around me, at least enough to give back some attitude when I said something she didn’t like, which was apparently often.

“But you won’t,” Calla answered. “Because you know I’m right, and this place looks a million times better. If you’re going to fire me, at least fire me for a real reason, Mr. Ayad.”

She had me there. I ran my hand over my face. “Fine. For future reference, I like my space a certain way.”

Calla nodded, her smile much bolder than when she first walked into the room. Without another word, she stood, heading back to the area she’d carved for herself. I felt astrike in my chest when I realized she’d barely done anything for her work area, focusing on my space instead.

I dropped into my chair, looking around at all the new items. This officewasmuch more comfortable. Even I’d felt on edge working here before, hating all the bland colors and minimal furniture.

Now, it felt homey, like a place I could put in long hours. Calla matched everything she picked to my style. I had no idea how she knew what to look for, but everything was what I would have picked myself. Calla had done an amazing job. If she could do this to the rest of the office, people would be flocking from LA to work here.

If only my pride would let me admit it to her.

FIVE

I woke on Friday with a broad smile on my face. By some sort of luck, I’d managed to survive my first week working with Theo. It felt like a minor miracle that he hadn’t killed me, or worse—fired me. After Theo calmed down about the redecorating debacle, everything had gone pretty smoothly.

The job itself was relatively simple. The biggest challenge was trying to read Theo’s moods. I’d tried to get a sense of his needs and anticipate them the best I could. Some were easy.

A long client meeting: he’d need a glass and scotch and silence in the office.

A phone call with the main office back in LA: he’d want me to print out every single client list and take meticulous notes about their plans.

And anytime his ex-wife called: I should toss the message into the trash and never bother asking if he wanted to call her back.

Most of the time, Theo was a workhorse, constantly keeping himself busy, which in turn meant that I was always busy, but at this point, it was kind of a blessing. Myusual social life was a joke, and most nights, the apartment felt more like a tomb than a home. Devyn was rarely around, and if she was, she was buried in briefs and other court documents.

And while I liked that work distracted me, I was alsoexhausted. The majority of nights, Theo worked until at least midnight. He’d often try to tell me to go home, I didn’t feel right leaving him behind. Still, I drew a line at crashing at the office. There were a few times when I’d accidentally dozed off at my desk, but I refused to sleep there willfully, a sentiment that Theo did not share. I found him passed out on the couch twice already, his suit rumpled from his all-nighter.

At least he stopped complaining about his new furniture after that first night.

After getting ready and springing for a cab to the office, I shoved the door open with my hip, shocked to hear other people inside. After it being only Theo and me here all week, it was a little jarring to hear others in our space. I walked down the hall to find Theo in his office with six other men.

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