Page 24 of Bossy Trouble

“That’s exactly what makes you the perfect candidate,” he said. “You’re someone he would never suspect.”

“Still. I don’t know.”

Alexander shrugged. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know.” And then he slid his card across the table.

Which brought me to now.

I’d thought about Alexander’s proposal on the way to Donovan’s office, but I hadn’t thought of accepting it until Donovan essentially told me that I didn’t deserve to run my own company.

What a bunch of bullshit.

He probably only said that to make himself feel better about what he did.

But it was then that I knew Donovan wasn’t planning on giving me Moniche no matter what he said.

And, like always. he just did this to mess with me.

That, combined with the possible criminal dealings, diminished any misplaced loyalty I had toward Donovan Dresden. Whatever relationship we shared before was over. As far as I was concerned, we were now enemies.

I couldn’t take him down on my own. Only someone with more power and zeroes in their account could do it.

And Alexander would. I only needed to help him.

I didn’t think it would be that easy, but I would do my absolute best to make sure Donovan Dresden crumbled.

Let the games begin.

10

DONOVAN

There was a knock on the door of my condo at exactly 4:30 the next morning.

I was already awake and expecting it, of course. I was an early riser by nature and was on my kitchen island, having a cup of coffee, when the knock came. Plus, I knew it was Georgia knocking since I’d told her to show up here at this exact time today.

“4:30?” I could hear her shock over the phone when I gave her the call that Friday. “In the morning?”

“Yes,” I answered, wishing I could see her reaction. “You’ll be expected to show up at my doorstep at 4:30 a.m. every single weekday with a cup of coffee and maybe some other assorted breakfast food. Surprise me. Nothing too heavy, but something that can get me going in the morning. Also, I’m not a fan of sweets or bread in general, so you’re going to have to get creative.”

“Don’t you have a cook for that?”

“Nope,” I lied. I took note to give Mrs. Keister, my cook, the rest of the week off, so I could support the lie. “Never quite got around to getting one. You’ll have to take care of catering my lunch and dinner too.”

“Fine.” She didn’t sound thrilled about the idea, but she didn’t protest. “Anything else?”

“Yes. Your work will be varied, but essentially, you have to do everything I say you should do. It might not make any sense at the moment, but you’re going to have to trust me and do it anyway.”

I could hear the hesitation on the other side of the phone. “Alright.” The word was clipped, and there was a tightness in her tone. “Anything else?”

“You don’t go home till I say you can. You’ll be working all night sometimes, in which case I will compensate you. Your weekends will be free for the most part, but occasionally, there will be emergencies, and I will expect you to drop whatever it is you’re doing to attend to them. Sometimes you might have to travel at the drop of a hat or meet with a client in my stead, so you should be well-versed on all the projects we’re working on and be able to discuss them at length and in-depth. You should also be able to negotiate in my place, and I expect you to show no mercy at the negotiating table. Also, always remember that you represent the company. I expect you to dress to the nines every time you come to work. Or really, any time you’re seen in public. You might need to replace your entire wardrobe. I’ll cover the expenses.”

I thought she would protest now. For a personal assistant, a lot of what I said was unreasonable, and even with the good pay, most people would have told me to shove it up my ass already. Especially someone like Georgia, who didn’t take shit from anyone. So I expected her to tell me to forget the whole thing and slam down the phone or something.

But, to my everlasting shock, she said, “Fine. What else?”

There was a brief pause.

“Nothing else,” I said, hiding my surprise. “For now.”

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