Page 5 of The Greek Billionaire's Rejected Secretary

"Shot down before she could finish her sentence."

"God, what I wouldn't give for just one night with him, though. Those hands. That mouth."

"That accent when he gets angry."

I grip my portfolio tighter while fighting to keep my face expressionless. They're talking about my boss like he's a piece of meat. Like he doesn't have more Yale Law Review citations than anyone in the firm's history. Like he hasn't argued before the Supreme Court twice. Like he isn't the most brilliant legal mind I've ever—

Whoa, self!

What am I doing?

Why am I so passionate about defending my boss?

Sure, he pays the bills, but this is also the same man who makes all our interns cry, to the point that nearly every law school on the East Coast warns their students about us.Apply at your own peril,stuff like that.

Whatever.

If they think he's such a catch, then go ahead.

Catch at your own peril, you poor unfortunate souls.

They just don't know what they're asking for. A night with Adriano would be like a night with a hurricane—thrilling until it destroys you.

Not that I've thought about it.

"I heard he doesn't date anyone from the firm," the blonde sighs.

"I'd change jobs in a heartbeat for a shot at that."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. They could do better. Anyone could do better than a man who considers a fifteen-hour workday as"leaving early".

The elevator stops at our floor, and I step out, relieved to escape the gossip. As I walk toward the conference room, my phone buzzes again. A text from Adriano.

Where's the Jensen file?

I type back:Third drawer of your filing cabinet. Where it's been for a week.

His response comes immediately:Head over to HR and tell them you need a refresher course on proper workplace etiquette.

Me:I'm not sure if they can fit me in. They're still busy playing counselor to all the interns you've traumatized.

I tuck the phone away, lips twitching. There's a specific rhythm to our exchanges: sharp but not mean, challenging but not disrespectful, and it's taken years to perfect.

Nine years to be exact, not that I'm counting.

Well, okay, Iamcounting.

And every time I remember just how long I've been working for Adriano Kontides, it's just...

Wow.

Even I'm not sure how I've been able to survive this long without cracking. Nine years of having to butt heads with him every darn day. Nine years of having to grit my teeth every time I make him coffee because he knows how much I hate doing it, but he's also offered me a bonus every time I do, and it's an offer I just can't afford to refuse.

Grrr.

It annoys me to no end just thinking—

Seriously?

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