Page 127 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
An inch of her smile was back, and her lashes fluttered. “Well, no, sir. Are you interested in me outside of a working relationship? Because if you are, I’m sure we can arrange?—”
“No.”
I let my answer linger and watched her smile falter again.
“I’m not interested in you or any others who work for me. I thought we should have this conversation because I’d hate to give off this type of unprofessionalism with my employees. The last thing I would want is you uncomfortable or me uncomfortable or my spouse uncomfortable thinking I’m having an affair or any type of personal dealings with those under my command.”
The brightness in her face was extinguished.
“I love working with you, Dahlia. You’re great at what you do. And it’s not easy finding someone to be my personal assistant, as I need to trust them with important day-to-day information, and our vibe and work ethic would need to be solid. Do you think this position is for you?”
Her eyes widened. “Well, of course!”
I stared at her for a long moment. “I don’t want to assume you’re thinking or feeling anything. And I don’t want you to assume that with me either. If I haven’t been straightforward enough for you in the past, I will be from here on out. Okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Also, while my family has no problems with you popping up for dinner, keep in mind that’s crossing a boundary when I have no knowledge of it. If something is pressing for my attention, you should only contact me through phone or email, whether that’s a call, a text, or an emergency notification on it. Nevershow up to a business outing or family outing that you haven’t been invited to. We don’t want anyone assuming things about us and our working relationship. Am I clear?”
“Very.”
“Do you have any thoughts?”
“Is this about me showing up for Sunday dinner?”
“It’s about a lot of things you’ve been doing and saying that are inappropriate for a professional relationship. For example, perching your hip on my desk, the comments you made toward Naomi about Nathan Bullard.”
“Sir—”
I held my hand up. “Saying things like you can fill in for a date for me if I need it. That is unprofessional, and I wanted to clear the air to make sure I hadn’t given you the impression it is okay and that you know it’s not.”
She was quiet and only staring at me now.
“Tell me, Dahlia, am I going to have to find someone else to fill your position?”
“No sir.”
“Are we good?”
“We’re great,” she rose to her feet. “And I apologize. You’re right about everything. It’s easy to want to cater to you because you’re such a great guy, but I’ve been out of line, and I hope you’ll accept my apology.”
I stared at her for a moment. Dahlia was great at her job, and I hope she meant what she said because I would hate to have to replace her.
“Okay.” I reached out my hand for a shake, and she accepted.
“What about calling you Christian? Should I start back calling you Mr. Valentine?”
“Don’t go that far.” She laughed, and I smirked.
“Okay, I get it. Is there anything else?”
“Make sure my schedule is clear for the marathon for the next week.”
“I’m already on top of it.”
“Thank you.”
She left the office, and I swiped my tongue over my teeth. This conversation was long overdue, and I hoped, for the sake of our working relationship, that we could make it work out.
