Page 20 of Scandalous Secrets

I brewed a cup of coffee before I headed out the door earlier than I needed to. New York traffic could either surprise you or ruin your whole morning. Usually it was the latter. Especially coming from Queens. I hailed a cab and slid inside.

“Where to, miss?” asked the driver, adjusting the rearview mirror.

“Gunner & Co. on Park Avenue.”

He nodded and put the car into drive, easing away from the curb. Traffic was what I expected. A nightmare. But even still, I arrived outside of the large concrete and glass building thirty minutes early. I looked out the cab window and up at the very gray building, wondering what I should do.

I didn’t want to spend any more time than I needed to here. With him. It was already going to be hard enough in the set eight-hour work day, which could very well turn into a ten-hour work day. You never knew as a personal assistant.

“Is this the right place?” asked the driver, eyeing me curiously.

“Oh, yes,” I said. “Sorry.”

I grabbed my wallet from my purse and handed what I owed him.

“Thank you,” I said as I opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

I walked through the large glass doors that the doorman opened for me. He tipped his cap as I walked past him and into the cool, marble-floored lobby. I hadn’t really taken the time to look around yesterday in my rush, but the building was massive and luxurious. The walls were of the same marble as the floors, making the room seem like it was never-ending.

Above the front desk hung a photo of Troy and a man I presumed to be his father. They both looked so serious standing in their black suits and black ties. I could see he got his good looks from his father, along with this company, according to Kathy. I tore my gaze away from the photo and those dark green eyes, and walked toward the elevators.

I rode up twenty-something floors and took a deep breath just before the doors slid open, pouring me out into the expansive space of offices and cubicles. There were very few people here, given it was early. I smiled at those I passed, trying my best to remember their names after Kathy’s introductions yesterday.

As I passed Troy’s office, I noticed he wasn’t in it. I breathed a small sigh of relief as I stepped behind my desk and slid into my seat. As if I could avoid him forever. I would be the one working closest to him for the unforeseeable future. I laughed quietly at my stupid self as I tried to get it together.

“Good morning,” said Kathy as she strode to my desk.

“Good morning,” I said brightly.

“You’re here nice and early.” Her eyebrows raised and I couldn’t tell if she was impressed or judging me.

“Well, it’s my first official day. I wanted to make a good impression.”

“Mmm,” she said as she walked away.

What was with this woman? I watched her go before I fired up my computer, the large monitor coming to life. Drumming my fingers on the desktop, I looked around the office at the others who were starting their day. I knew nothing about hedge funds, but it seemed to be a much more serious world than I was used to with writing. It was hard not to doubt myself, but Daniel had put me up for the job. Favor or not, he seemed to think I was capable.

A notification bell sounded, bringing my attention to my email. There was an email from Troy sent late the night before. I sucked in a breath as I reached for the mouse, clicking to open it.

I watched as words poured across the screen. I scrolled to see how long the email was and was shocked to see that it could easily be ten pages long if I printed it out. I scrolled back up to the top and began reading.

Monica,

I trust you’re settling in well. I realize we did not go over the expectations of your job yesterday. I apologize. It is probably better to have them listed out in an email, so you can easily refer back to it if need be.

I expect you at the office on time at 9 AM sharp each morning. Before you arrive, I need you to stop by the coffee shop on the corner just east of the building. It’s called Le Café. If you arrive at 8:30, you should beat the morning rush. I like an iced Americano. Half a scoop of ice. 1 pump of sweetener. A splash of cream. It should be a dark color. If it’s too light, I will have you take it back. You can let the barista know it’s for me. He should know just how I like it.

I read the coffee order again, just to make sure this guy was as neurotic as he was making himself out to be, or if it was just my imagination. After reading the entirety of the email, which ate up about thirty minutes of my morning, it was confirmed that Troy was particularly neurotic about a lot of things.

Like his dry cleaning. The color codes of his calendar. His lunch order and all its modifications. How I should sign my emails when communicating with contacts.

No wonder he had written it out in an email. I would never be able to remember all of this. I couldn’t help but wonder what had I gotten myself into. I had worked with some micromanagers before, but nothing like this.

After I read through his expectations, I moved onto opening the calendar he shared with me with a list of his affairs for the month that I would be helping out with. It felt oddly intimate to have access to the goings on of his life, but this was normal for a personal assistant. It just felt intimate that it was him. I looked through the calendar longer than I needed to just out of pure curiosity.

I finally moved on to the to-do list he had left me for the day. There was a lot, and most would keep me out of the office for the majority of the day. I wondered if that was on purpose. Probably. I didn’t mind, though. It meant more time away from him to get over what had happened between us. If there was any getting over that.

I glanced at the time on my computer and saw it was just past nine. Troy had mentioned in his email that he would be late coming in today, so I still had time to go get his coffee and make sure that it was just to his liking. I would hate to screw up something as simple as a coffee order on my first day, no matter how complicated it was.

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