Page 13 of Guarded King

I turn to Sophie. “Can you help me?”

She nods rapidly. “Of course. What do you need?”

“Let’s start with the basics. Can you show me how the scheduling app works and where the project files are?”

The two of us round my desk, and once she’s shown me the applications I need, she walks me through what she knows of Lena’s system. While she explains, I jot down notes on a notepad I find in a drawer, creating a quick reference guide for myself.

Okay. My mind works overtime as I scan Roman’s calendar. It’s packed. Very packed. As I review it, a red-flagged meeting later this morning catches my attention. It looks like he’ll be briefing his executive team on a company called EcoTech.

“Where do I find the files related to this company?” I ask Sophie, pointing to the calendar entry.

“They should be in here.”

I follow her to a filing cabinet against the wall, where she flicks through several files before pulling one out and handing it to me.

I glance through it as I return to my desk. Dammit. The details don’t mean much to me, and I don’t have time to learn them all.

Still, a few things are familiar from my time at Talon.

“Where are the latest market reports?”

“They’re usually stored in the shared drive under the Analytics folder. Here.” Sophie points at the screen. As she pulls her hand away, she checks her watch. “I’m sorry to abandon you, but I have to get back to my desk. Is there anything else I can help with before I go?”

I paste on a smile, though what I really want to do is beg her to stay. “Thanks. I think I’ve got it. I’ll do the best I can and hope it’s enough.”

“I hope it is too. It’d be fun to have you around. If you have more questions, this is my extension.” She writes down a number on my notepad and pushes it across to me. “I can talk you through anything you need or duck back around and show you.”

With that, she turns and heads down the hall.

“Oh.” She stops and spins on her heel. “If you get some free time around lunch, come find me. I’ll take you down to the employee cafeteria.”

Despite my lingering panic, warmth spreads through me. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

With a renewed sense of determination, I get back to work, skimming through the EcoTech file. I search the desk, find a pad of sticky notes, and mark key information I think Roman might need for his meeting.

When I’m done, I explore the CRM software that tracks project statuses and stakeholder interactions. I take more notes as I compare the details with recent emails, spotting updates that haven’t been added to the file yet. Pushing away the doubts gnawing at me, I decide to brief him on those as a start.

With the meeting time approaching, I take a deep breath, grab the file and my new tablet and head to his office.

My knock is met with a terse “Come in.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. If I could put up with Leering Geoff for the last six months, I can put up with Grumpy Roman. If I’m lucky, that is. First, I have to make sure he doesn’t fire me.

I ease the door open and, with as much confidence as I can muster, walk into what turns out to be an enormous corner office, all dark wood and understated elegance, with floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides that frame a breathtaking cityscape worthy of one of Dad’s paintings.

For a moment, I’m distracted by the view, but I quickly snap my attention back to Roman. He’s leaning back in his chair behind an expansive wooden desk, tracking my approach with those intense gray eyes—eyes that make my heart beat a little faster.

It’s nerves, obviously. Because wow, Roman King is intimidating when he fixes his gaze on me like that. If I’m honest, he’s probably the most intimidating man I’ve ever met. My dad is the opposite. He’s kind, loving, a little absent sometimes—and somewhat cranky these days—but never intimidating. I respected Geoff Sr.; he was always fair to hisemployees. His son? I didn’t respect him at all. But neither of them was what I’d consider intimidating.

Roman, though, with his effortlessly commanding presence and the disconcerting way he’s watching me—as if he can see right through me while keeping every thought of his own hidden—heintimidates the hell out of me

There’s no way I’ll let him know that, though. Not after the comments he made earlier.

I clear my throat and offer a cool, professional smile. “Mr. King, I’ve prepared the file for this morning’s meeting. It includes key points on potential market impacts from the latest reports, as well as updates you might find relevant.”

He doesn’t make a move to reach for the file, so I thrust it toward him. Luckily, he takes it rather than leaving it dangling in midair. Not that I’d have put it past him.

As he flips through the pages, his expression unreadable, I do my best not to shuffle my feet and let on how nervous I am. Glancing at the leather chairs in front of his desk, I wish I’d thought to sit down before launching into my spiel.

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