Page 6 of Enthrall
Lotte motioned toward him. “Mia, this is Richard Booth. Your new boss.” She turned around. “Master Richard, I’m delighted to introduce you to your new secretary, Ms. Lauren.”
My blood pressure spiked and my legs wobbled as I realized this strikingly handsome man, this apparent dominant, was my boss.
I steadied my breathing.
“Mia’s well trained,” said Lotte. “See, even we can’t get in.” She made it a joke.
“Why didn’t I get to interview her?” he said icily.
“We have the director’s approval,” said Lotte. “He wants you to know this is non-negotiable.”
“When is anything negotiable with him?” said Richard.
“Say hello,” Lotte whispered to him.
Her domineering demeanor had its expected effect upon him.
He conceded with a nod. “Ms. Lauren, I like my coffee white with one sugar. My office, five minutes.”
“Please,” I said.
Lotte threw me a look of surprise.
“Please,” he said with a frown.
“Call me Mia,” I said, remembering Tara telling me to act self-assured. “May I call you Richard?”
He turned on his heel and headed off through the door.
“Beam that sweet smile of yours,” said Lotte. “He’s bound to come round.”
A little disconcerted he’d not known about me being hired, I headed past Lotte and into the kitchen.
I inhaled the fresh scent of the finest coffee beans. They were costly too, based on the price tag on the packet. Musing how the smell was always nicer than it tasted, I added milk from the carton I found in the stainless-steel fridge, grabbed a sweet and low and a white sugar sachet, and headed out. Pausing before Richard’s door I stole a moment to raise my guard, preparing to feign nonchalance. Richard was a little scary.
He chatted away on the phone and gestured where I could place his mug, pointing to a silver coaster on his desk. Careful not to spill any, I rested it on the coaster and stepped back. Richard oozed intensity even when he wasn’t looking at you. I was happy to head out of there.
“Mia?” he called after me, his hand covering the receiver. “One moment, please.”
I neared his desk again.
He rifled through a beige folder lying open on his desk. “I have his file here,” he told the caller. “What happened?”
This had to be the swankiest office I’d ever been in with its wooden paneled walls and an even darker bookcase. Instead of books, it housed several ornaments: a Buddha on the lowest shelf continuing the theme from the changing room, a sailing yacht rested upon the uppermost shelf, and just beneath that, tucked inside another alcove, lay a medieval thumb screw. That really clashed with the Buddha.
Along the back far left wall rested a luxury leather studded sofa. I imagined him stretching out those long legs of his and taking a nap during his lunch break.
To the right hung three black framed photographs. A single man had been captured in each one, performing some kind of daredevil stunt. In the first, the man literally hung from a sheer rock face, the shot taken from a helicopter; the man wasn’t wearing a safety harness. The middle photo had caught a man jumping off the top of the Eiffel Tower, a thin parachute strapped to his back. In the third photo, and easily the most extreme of all three, a man reached out beyond the confines of an underwater cage toward a shark.
I looked away and wondered if Tara had decided to go to Australia yet, though hoped for Bailey’s sake she’d change her mind.
“Absolutely, revoke his membership,” said Richard. “Refund him.” He peered up at me.
I snapped my head away from the shark photo. Somehow the thing had drawn me back.
“No, I completely agree,” added Richard. “Dominic, thank you for taking care of that. I’ll see you later.” He hung up and his gaze followed mine.
“Those men are crazy,” I said, though the one trying to pat the shark was certifiable.
