Page 4 of His to Command

"Enter."

She steps in, clutching that same portfolio, her eyes wide and uncertain behind her glasses. Up close, in the privacy of my office, I can see her more clearly. Her lips are fuller than I realized, her face heart-shaped, her figure more generous than her conservative clothes attempt to disguise.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Roth?"

I lean back in my chair, deliberately making her wait as I study her. Power dynamics established from the beginning.

"Sit down, Ms. Hastings."

She perches on the edge of the chair across from my desk, spine straight, knees pressed together. Proper. Controlled. I wonder what it would take to make her lose that control.

"I've been reviewing your work," I say finally. "You're wasted in the general marketing pool."

Confusion crosses her face. "I—thank you?"

"It wasn't a compliment. It was an observation." I stand, moving around my desk to lean against the front of it, now looming over her seated form. "My assistant is taking a leave of absence. Family matter. I need a replacement."

Her eyes widen. "I don't understand."

"It's a simple proposition, Ms. Hastings. I'm reassigning you as my personal assistant, effective immediately."

"But I'm not—I don't have experience as an executive assistant. I'm a marketing analyst."

"You're what I say you are." The words come out harsher than intended, but I don't soften them. "Your analytical skills are precisely what I need. This is a promotion, Robin. Your salary will be doubled."

She blinks rapidly, processing. "Mr. Roth, I appreciate the offer, but I'm in the middle of several marketing projects that?—"

"They'll be reassigned."

"But—"

"This isn't a negotiation." I step closer, watching her shrink slightly in her chair. "I need someone with your attention to detail. Someone who sees patterns others miss."

Someone I can keep close, keep watching, keep wanting until I figure out why I want her so badly.

She swallows, her throat working in a way that makes me want to trace it with my fingers, my mouth. "May I ask how long this assignment will last?"

"Indefinitely." I return to my chair, putting the desk between us again, giving her space to breathe. "You'll start tomorrow. My assistant will email you the details of your new responsibilities and compensation package."

She sits there, stunned, her fingers gripping the arms of the chair. "Mr. Roth, I don't think?—"

"That will be all, Ms. Hastings." I look down at the papers on my desk, dismissing her.

She doesn't move immediately, and I can feel her gathering courage. "Mr. Roth, I really must insist?—"

I look up, fixing her with the stare that has made CEOs of rival companies back down. "Are you refusing a direct order from your CEO, Ms. Hastings?"

Her flush deepens, but there's a flash of something in her eyes—not just fear, but a spark of defiance quickly suppressed. Interesting.

"No, sir," she says finally, standing. "I'll report tomorrow morning."

"Seven-thirty. Don't be late."

She nods stiffly and turns to leave.

"And Robin?" I call as she reaches the door.

She looks back, her hand on the doorknob.

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