Page 74 of Assistant to the Billionaire CEO

With clammy hands, I waved at him as he strolled out of the room like a man certain of his next destination.

“See you,” I answered, although I knew he was already too far away to hear me. As soon as I could no longer hear his shiny leather shoes stepping down the hallway, I darted into the corner like a startled shrew and hovered over the trash can. What secrets do you contain? Tell me, tell me, tell me.My heart sped up. I was so nervous when I reached down to retrieve the ball of paper. It felt prickly in the palm of my shaky hand. My heart was beating at least a hundred beats per minute. Seriously, I was surprised I didn’t hyperventilate and sweat bullets—I was more than scared of being caught.

Carefully, I unfolded the paper, cautious not to tear it.

The page was titled “Short Hills Development.” My heart sank into my shoes. I reached out to my copy machine and leaned against it to steady myself. Oh, no. This was it. This was the document that would incriminate Ace and spoil any chance I might ever have had of being with him.

Just when I was about to fully open the document and read all of its contents, the copy room’s doorknob turned again. I found myself standing with the now-somewhat uncrumpled paper in hand as Ace came strolling back into the room.

Shit.

Oh, shit.

“Uhm. What are you doing?” He stopped mid-stride.

Quickly, I tried to shuffle his paper amongst my own, as inconspicuously as possible. It was too late.

“Are youspyingon me?” He gestured at the pieces of paper in my hands.

Blood rushed to my cheeks and my heartbeat hummed in my ears. My physical reflexes might have been a bit slow, but my mental ones certainly weren’t. They never let me down.

But now—nothing.

Nothing, zero, zilch came to mind to get me out of this terrifying mess.

More sweat ran down my skin.

I had to confess. I had to tell him everything, tell him the whole truth. About Damon and me and this awful,awfulplan to spy on him—no, wait, I mean, be a detective for the greater good.

But then I had an idea.

“Yes, yes, I am,” I said in a teasing tone. “I’m Miss Jane Marple, and you’ve caught me—red-handed.” I held my breath and hoped I’d be able to hide the truth under a thick layer of humor. I was basically betting on a double-bluff working, something I’d only ever seen successfully pulled off in cartoons.

“Hmm,” he hummed. For a few seconds, he just stood staring at me, and I wondered if he even knew who Miss Marple was, but then his lip curved up. “Stella, I was just kidding.”

Oh, my gosh.

It had worked.

My tactic had worked.

Excellent! I realized he hadn’t seen me going through the trash can and he had no actual reason to believe I was holdinghiscrumpled paper in my hands. He probably thought it was one of my own. Thank goodness I hadn’t confessed. I shuffled more paper around, to let his disappear deeper among the stack of mine (just in case) and smiled innocently, ready to leave the room. Victory!

I was such a perfect detective. Agatha Christie would have been so proud of me. That was some true Miss Marple magic.

“But still, you know what this means, don’t you?” he rumbled darkly, mischief in his eyes slowly spreading across his entire face.

“That you feel honored to know the world’s most amazing detective?” I laughed, hoping the truth of my words wouldn’t ring clear and he’d continue to take it as a joke.

“Even the world’s most amazing detective can’t be allowed to get away with a crime like this.” He waggled his eyebrow once. “Lock the door.”

Oh, my God.

Lock the door?Was that what he just said? Was he still playing, or was this real?

Something squirmed in the pit of my stomach, and the familiar tingle returned, quickly spreading to my chest and the space between my thighs. I walked over to the copy room door, closed it, and locked us inside.

After I returned to where I had been standing, I gulped playfully (well, not reallythatplayfully). “What are you going to do, boss?”

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