Page 2 of The CEO's Christmas Wife

“Okay, let me finish this, and I’ll be?—”

“Immediately,” Carmen repeated and widened her eyes for emphasis.

I nodded and stepped from behind the desk to follow her.

“Would you please watch the front desk for me, Portia?”

“Sure.”

“And pack my things while you’re at it. I’m sure I’m about to be escorted out of here,” I whispered loudly.

“Or, he might be giving you a bonus for your creativity,” Portia responded with a wink.

I smirked, shook my curly hair over my shoulders, and hurried after Carmen. When I arrived at his office, I knocked, and it was followed by a gruff, “Come in.”

I pushed the large mahogany door open and stepped inside. Black and gold carpet covered most of the hardwood floor, and black Italian leather furniture took up the majority of the office. A large sectional and two armchairs faced the onyx-encased fireplace. A large L-shaped glass desk sat behind the seating area and in front of a wall of windows overlooking downtown Cherokee Springs.

“Yes, Mr. Kayn. You wanted to see me?”

“This place becomes a madhouse at Christmas. Every year, it’s the same thing. This is a business we have to run, not some nursery schoolhouse for everyone to display their arts and crafts. I hired an interior designer to decorate this place, and now it’s covered in gaudy lights, silvery baubles, fake snow, legendary characters, and horrible music. I don’t recall design being in your job description. If that’s not bad enough, they expect to have a Christmas party and gifts.

“And then . . .” He slammed his fist on his desk and caused the coffee cup to jump before he continued. “I stillhave to send Christmas gifts to our business partners. People are walking around with their hands out, expecting something. We’re running a business, not a gahdamn charity. And on top of all this, my schedule is crazy, and there’s no good help around anymore. They want to take extended lunch breaks, talk on the phone, and check their social media. That’s not what I’m paying them to do. They need to do that on their time.”

My body was one rigid muscle, and I wished that I could disappear. I was uncertain why I was the recipient of this tirade and allowed to witness his meltdown in his inner sanctum, other than the fact that I was the one who had probably set it in motion. I was certain my Christmas decorations and music had set the stage for his little tantrum. But I would accept it as long as I could keep my job.

Then as if he could read my mind, Mr. Kayn commanded, “Oh, yeah, and I need you to find someone to fill the job as the front-desk receptionist.”

“But-b-b-but, Mr. Kayn—” I stammered. I had only been in my job for eight months. I couldn’t afford to be unemployed again. “That’s my job.”

“That was your job.”

“You’re serious?”

“Now!” he thundered.

“Are you firing me?” Because if he was, I was ready to tell him exactly what his staff members thought of him. Not me, because I didn’t feel the same.

Unfortunately, I always melted whenever his gaze was upon me. Disappointment filled me whenever he didn’t come into the office for the day. Hearing his voice over the phone whenever he called in from outside of the office filled me with fantasies. I wondered what his voice would sound like as he whispered sweet words to me. So I had no negative thoughts to share withhim of my own but plenty of thoughts about what everyone else felt about him.

Thoughts about how in the hell I was supposed to finish my Christmas shopping if I was fired blocked everything else out. There were bills to be paid, savings to continue, and God, I couldn’t afford to lose another job. This was my fourth job in seven years. I needed, no, I craved job stability and financial security.

“Yes, you’re fired.”

“Mr. Kayn?—”

Lucky for me, I didn’t open my mouth too soon because his next words changed my fear and disappointment to wonder and awe.

“I need you to find someone to fill that role. You have to start your new role as my executive administrative assistant immediately.”

My jaw dropped, and I stood speechless before him until he said, “You’ve got a damn Christmas party to plan, gifts to send out, and you have to fix my itinerary for my out-of-town business trip next week. You ain’t got a lot of time. So you might wanna pick your jaw up and get to moving.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s your name?”

“Kandi. Kandi Jolly.”

“God, help us.”

---