Page 8 of Guarded King

I spend the rest of the afternoon trying to distract myself. I even limit myself to checking my phone only twice to make sure it’s fully charged and not set to silent, the way it should have been during my interview.

When it rings just before dinner, I leap at it.

“Hello?” My voice is only slightly breathless.

“Hi, Chloe. It’s Lena.”

She sounds cheerful, but I hold my breath anyway, unwilling to get my hopes up prematurely.

“I’m so happy to tell you that you’ve got the job.”

Relief slices through me, sharp and sweet. “Thank you so much.”

“Since you’re not working at the moment, could you start first thing on Monday?”

My pulse kicks, but I don’t hesitate. “Yes, of course.”

“Great. I won’t be there to show you around and help you get acclimated, but Sophie, one of the other executive assistants, will show you the ropes.”

“Of course, that’s fine.”

She hesitates. “Look, I think you’ll be a great assistant for Roman. But as you’ve already experienced, he can be a bit… abrupt. Don’t let him intimidate you. He’ll discover quickly enough that you can do the job, but until then, you may have to show him what you’re made of.”

Nerves ripple through me as an image of those steely gray eyes flashes in my mind, but I nod firmly, even though she can’t see it. “I think I can do that.”

She chuckles. “You’re going to get on just fine.”

As she goes over what to expect on Monday, I can only hope she’s right.

CHAPTER FOUR

CHLOE

I’m hit with a sense of déjà vu as I make my way through the foyer of King Plaza.

The man behind the security desk is different from the one I met on the morning of my interview. “Hi. My name’s Chloe Callahan. I’m starting work with the King Group today.”

He taps at his computer, then nods and flashes me a grin. “You need to head up to the fifty-third floor. If you’ll wait a moment, I’ll call to make sure someone’s there to meet you. Then I’ll send you up.”

He picks up his phone, presses a button, and talks briefly to someone. A moment later, he escorts me to the elevators and waits with me until the doors slide open.

He gestures for me to step inside, swipes a card against the scanner, and hits the button for the fifty-third floor.

“Thank you.” I give him a bright smile, doing my best to camouflage my nerves.

When he winks as the door closes between us, I’m not sure I did a very good job.

As the elevator silently ascends, I take a deep breath to steady myself. This building—and my new boss—might be far grander than where I last worked, but the job is the same: work hard,keep the boss organized, always be professional. So why am I so nervous?

After what feels like the space of a heartbeat, the elevator dings softly and the doors slide open. When I step out, I’m met by an auburn-haired woman with sparkling hazel eyes and a big smile.

She holds out her hand. “You must be Chloe. I’m Sophie Emerson, Tate King’s assistant.” She looks a few years older than me, and the friendliness in her expression immediately puts me at ease.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’ll show you around and help you get set up today,” she says. “Let’s stop by your desk first, and then we’ll pick up your security pass and make sure all your accounts are working.” With that, she’s already hustling away.

Gripping my bag tightly, I scramble to keep up with her longer strides—she’s several inches taller than my five-foot-four frame.

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