Simon did, though. He didn’t say a word, but I saw his eyes on my knees as I stepped into the car. His look of disapproval was nearly palpable. As he wound his way out of my neighborhood, I tried to quell my reddening cheeks, but I suspected I knew what was going through the driver’s head.

He’d seen this a million times before…women trying to get Maddox Steel’s attention with their bodies. Based on his disdain, I figured it must have worked on occasion. And I’d have to pair my looks with my brain if I wanted Maddox Steel.

Did I, though? Did I want him?

Some part of me, way deep down inside, did. Whether that was due to Elise’s worship of the man or my own intrigue with his mysterious nature, I didn’t know. I only knew I wanted to pursue something.

And, of course, I forgot about the possibility that clothing wouldn’t work in my case. Promptly at eight AM, Maddox called me into his office. He had a notepad and pen on the side of his desk where I’d be sitting, and he gave me a list of daily duties, including sorting through emails and prioritizing them for him. I realized then what a detailed man he was and knew I’d need to be just as meticulous as he.

After going through the whole list, he said, “You’ve also no doubt seen my videos. The ones I do for clients.” I nodded my head, looking up from the notepad. “I’m going to do more, and I’ll need your help with them. You’ve probably already gathered how anxious our clients are about the current volatility of the market. Some of them should be nervous, but most of them just need to sit back and relax, because this is the way it works. The market will go up again. It always does.”

“So what do you need my help with?”

“I’ll probably have you film me and maybe do the editing. Usually, I have the ad staff doing it, but I’ve got them working on other things—and I don’t need to exponentially expose myself to lots more people. The ad department is short staffed at the moment anyway. Before we film, though, I’m going to write a script—and I want you to tell me what needs to be simplified.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll need you to point out what needs to be…dumbed down, for lack of a better phrase.”

Vehemence made me inhale deeply, and I fought the urge to lash out. Instead, I wanted to point out his arrogance. “And what makes you think I’m the right person for that job?” Showing him he was condescending might bring him around again like proving him wrong yesterday afternoon. Putting an inflection in my voice that sounded as close to Forrest Gump as I could manage, I said, “Is this dumb enough for you?”

But I was dead wrong. His intent was not what I’d thought—and I’d just made a fool out of myself.

“That’s the job you’ve been so good at all these years, Bailey. Taking difficult concepts and making them easy to understand for our customers.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Now it was my turn to stop being an asshole. “Sorry. I misunderstood.” But that was the only apology he’d get from me because, after all, he was still the guy at the helm of the ship. I wasn’t going to tuck my tail.

And it hadn’t slipped past me that he’d acknowledged my worth in the company.

“Is that it?”

“For now.”

I stood up, walking toward the doorway. Just as I got there, he said, “And Bailey?”

“Yes?” I turned again, pen poised in hand.

He didn’t look up from his work, though, his eyes glued to his monitor. “The dress code exists for the simple reason that clothing—or the lack of appropriate wear—can be distracting. Not so much to the person wearing it.”

I could’ve argued, giving him a BS line that this was my idea of casual, but I’d already discovered I couldn’t get away with being disingenuous with this man.

I could, however, be a little smart assy, something I’d already gotten away with. I just didn’t know that my subtle digs would always be noticed. “Yes, sir.”

“Close the door behind you.”

As for that one, I guessed I’d never know.

* * *

The rest of the week, Maddox worked my tail off—and I relaxed into more casual wear as the days went by, including jeans and sweaters. And even though I was bringing my own food to his house, we occasionally ate lunch together. One day was nice enough that we tried eating on the deck.

On Thursday, he called me into his office. “Bailey, when’s the last time you looked at the chat board on the intranet?”

Oh…my disengagement as an employee was about to stick out like a circus clown at a funeral. “Honestly?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want the truth.”

“I stopped reading it, like, three years ago.”