Page 3 of Seducing the Billionaire

“Work. Please.” Thank God for Vivian. There’s a reason she’s lasted so long in the company with her no-nonsense attitude and ability to not take things personally.

She gets up from her desk and strides over to Dad’s office, pushing open the heavy double doors.

I follow behind her, studying the familiar space. Everything is the same as I remember it. The massive desk I was never allowed to sit behind. The incomparable view of the Manhattan skyline out of the floor-to-ceiling window spanning the length of one wall. God, even the scent of his Armani cologne still seems to linger in the air. Am I going crazy? “Does it smell like him?” I whisper before I catch myself.

Pity flashes in her eyes and I look away, not wanting to see it.

I make my way to the leather chair behind the desk, hesitating for a moment before sitting. So this is what it feels like to be the big man at the office. “Do I look like the CEO?”

She smiles kindly, but it almost seems worse than if she hadn’t smiled at all. Dad’s probably rolling over in his grave, shouting at me to assert my authority in the office.

A knock at the open doorway interrupts us, and my breath catches for a moment as an attractive redhead walks in. I stand and round the desk, unable to help looking my fill at the newcomer. Her curly hair streams past her shoulders and halfway down her back, her form-fitting black dress showing off her curvy figure. Striking green eyes meet mine as her steps slow, her full lips giving me a half-smile. “Mr. Bishop,” she murmurs in a husky voice. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Who is this woman? I definitely would have remembered seeing her around here before.

“Oh, that’s right,” Vivian says. “You haven’t met Emma yet.”

And who exactly is she? A consultant? Client? Temptress come to life?

She steps closer, a warm, exotic scent filling my nose as she shakes my hand, her fingers delicate. A spark flares between us as we briefly touch, my stomach dipping low in excitement. I’ve never particularly thought about having a type, but if I did, it’d be… her.

It takes a moment for my tongue to unstick from the roof of my mouth. Seriously, I can’t remember having such a visceral reaction to someone before. “Call me Connor. Mr. Bishop is—”

I cut myself off when I realize what I was about to say. When will it be normal to talk about him again?

“Emma’s going to be your new executive assistant while I’m gone,” Vivian rushes to say in the awkwardness of my clipped statement.

Come again? Assistant? I blink, momentarily distracted from the enchantress who walked into my office. “Gone?” What does she mean gone?

“During my leave.”

“You’re leaving?”

A grimace flashes over Vivian’s face. “I guess no one told you. My daughter’s having her first baby,” she explains. “So I’m taking some time off to help her.”

“How long?”

“A month.”

“A—”

She holds up a hand to cut me off. “I already got into it with your father. I haven’t taken a vacation in three years. I’m taking this month off to spend with my grandbaby.”

A vise grips my chest, squeezing tightly. I can’t do this job without Vivian. She’s been Dad’s executive assistant for the last fifteen years. She knows everything. How am I supposed to depend on someone who’s brand new?

“I, um… Okay.” What else can I say? I can only imagine how hard she fought in the first place for the time off. Dad never believed in vacations. A waste of productivity, in his opinion.

“You two will be fine,” Vivian assures me, bustling over to the door. “I promise. Now let me get my list of things to go over with you.”

She leaves and my gaze cuts to Emma, standing awkwardly with her hands clasped in front of her. “My condolences about your father,” she says in that husky voice. “I’m sure he’ll be missed.”

I nod, not knowing her well enough to tell her he wasn’t a good man. He was respected around here, or feared, at least. To him, the two meant the same thing.

“Losing a parent must be rough,” she continues. “Especially on top of all this change for you.”

I look into her eyes, getting lost for a moment in the sincerity shining within them. “It is.”

She reaches a hand out, briefly squeezing my arm in comfort. I’m sure she means it as a friendly gesture, but a tingle races down my spine at the contact, my body physically swaying toward her until I catch myself and step away.

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