Page 17 of His to Keep
“Let’s talk about the job,” I say, changing the subject before I do something dumb—like handcuff her to my desk until she agrees to break off the relationship. “You seem hesitant.”
“Of course I’m hesitant! This has disaster written all over it.”
“Why?”
She gapes at me. “Luke. We met at a sex club. We did a scene together! I gave you a blowjob! How are we supposed to just forget that?”
“We’re not going to,” I growl. I won’t fucking let her forget it. “But I’m very good at keeping my private life private.”
“Working with you, after what we did, it presents too many complications. I can’t do complications right now.”
“Complications can be fun.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t understand. I need this job.”
There’s a note of desperation in her voice that has me curious. “Why do you need it so much?”
She lets out a long breath. “I had to leave school because I couldn’t afford it. The foundation that granted one of my scholarships went bust. Without that money, I couldn’t pay my tuition.” She looks up at me with wide, anguished eyes. “I wanted to stay close by, so I could pick up my program where I left off and not transfer schools. But my last job was just a temp thing, and the one before that laid off a third of the employees after I’d been there for two weeks. I can’t afford to stay in Charlotte without this job.”
The idea of her leaving the city makes my blood run cold. “You’re not going to lose this job,” I assure her. “I won’t let that happen.”
She shakes her head, and I hate that she doesn’t believe me. I turn to face her fully, taking her hands in mine. “Rebecca, listen. I’d like you to stay on and be my PA. If it doesn’t work out, if you don’t feel comfortable, we can transfer you to another office.” The words feel sour on my tongue. I don’t want her going anywhere. But I would do it for her, if it was what she wanted. So long as it isn’t back down to Jeremy fucking Downing.
I squeeze her hands. “Besides, my PA is on a higher salary schedule than data entry. That might help you get back to school sooner.”
Her eyes search mine. “You promise it won’t get complicated? We keep it professional here at work?”
The idea of being so close to her and having to be professional actually sounds like torture. But there’s also no way I’m going to screw this up. Finding Rebecca right under my nose—in my own fucking office—feels like a gift from the universe. And I’m way too smart to throw that away.
“No complications,” I tell her. “I promise.”
Rebecca
Working with Luke seems like the stupidest thing I could possibly agree to. But it’s hard to turn down the extra money. And Idotrust him. If he says it won’t be complicated, I believe him.
My decision to agree definitely has nothing to do with the fact that my belly fills with butterflies at the mere thought of seeing him every day. Nope, that’s not it at all. I’m not excited about the prospect of spending long hours at his side, just the two of us. Not me.
I’m also totally fucking kidding myself.
The first day as his PA goes by without incident. I sit down with Wesley and he goes over my responsibilities. The list is pretty daunting. There are about a million things Luke Davis needs done for him so that he can focus on running the tech world. I’m responsible for handling most of his communication here at the office. I’ll organize his travel, which appears to take up a large amount of his time. When he has meetings, I need to supply the attendees with coffee and refreshments. I’m also to assist Wesley in handling the admin work he’s too busy for—making copies, filing, and running around the building to drop off documents and get signatures. In between all that, I’m responsible for Luke’s lunch and making sure he has coffee at all times.
But it’s not just the office where I’m expected to work. Personal Assistant means personal tasks as well. I need to organize all his dry cleaning, make reservations, run errands, respond to invitations, keep up his personal correspondence. When I see “buy mom birthday gift,” on the list, I can’t help but roll my eyes. Apparently busy and important people like Luke Davis don’t even have time to shop for their own mother.
“Oh, before I forget,” Wesley says once we’ve finished going over my task list. “You’ll be needing this.” He thumbs through a folder and pulls out a small black card and hands it to me with an uncharacteristically stern gaze. “Don’t lose that.”
I turn the card over in my hands and see a series of six digits. Nothing else—no words that might indicate what these numbers refer to.
“That’s the security code to Mr. Davis’s penthouse,” he says. “I’ve already left your name with the doorman of the building so you’ll have no problems getting in. But you’ll need to enter that code to operate the elevator and then again to get into the unit itself. It would be best if you memorize it so you don’t have to carry the code around. It would be very bad if you lost that card.”
I gape at him, uncomprehending. “What?”
He’s already moving on to the next folder in front of him. “Mr. Davis’s penthouse,” he says, distracted. “I’ll text you the address.”
“But…why do I need the code to Luke—I mean, Mr. Davis’s penthouse?”
He finally stops his perusal of the file to look at me, his eyebrow raised in appraisal. “I know you were listening to your list of responsibilities because you asked me plenty of questions.”
“Yes, but—”
