Page 89 of Assistant to the Billionaire CEO

“For now,” she sulked. “One of them is bound to get in eventually.” She swiveled her office chair around and held up an envelope. “Mrs. Mills asked me to give this note to you from Mr. Windsor before she left to run errands.”

“Oh, okay, coming.” I walked over to her and took the letter just as she spun around to answer a call.

“The phone has been ringing all morning,” she mumbled before answering it.

I stared at the letter in my hand. It was a closed envelope. I wondered why Ace would possibly close the letter, unless it was just meant for my eyes.

“Thank you, Glenda,” I mouthed to her, quiet enough so as to not disturb the conversation she was having with whoever had called. I waited for her to put down the phone again before I said, “And if one of those bees gets in here, just call me and I’ll escort it back outside for you.”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course. I’m always willing to help my friends.” I heard her “Pfft” as I turned and headed toward the elevator.

Once I was alone, I ripped the flap of the envelope open. The flapping envelope looked like a disembodied mouth, chattering away inside my hand. When I was sure no one would be able to read it over my shoulder, I unfolded it and skimmed its contents, all giddy and excited.

It read:

Stella,

I have an unexpected presentation at 9 a.m.

Please fetch me the file I left on the executive boardroom table and get the room ready. Meet me in my office directly thereafter.

Hurry.

P.S. Your panties aren’t invited.

37

STELLA

Ireread the P.S. and gasped. Quickly, I folded the letter back up again. As luck would have it, no one else was waiting by the elevator, so I took a moment to compose myself.

He wanted me to come into his office without my panties?No way.

I unfolded and reread the P.S. again, just to make sure. Nope, that was, in fact, what the note said. I examined my reflection in my hand mirror.

How naughty.

As I waited, I coated my lips in my bright cherry lipstick and made sure not a single hair was out of place in the intricate French braid I’d spent an hour crafting that morning. Good hair day. Perfect.

Ding.

The doors slid open, and I stepped inside theemptyelevator. Luck was on my side. An instrumental version of Meatloaf’s “I’d Do Anything for Love” was streaming out of a speaker, mounted in its corner.Of course,the soundtracks of my life would follow me as elevator music. The irony wasn’t lost on me, I was a little amused by it.

I hit the button for the 7th floor and waited for the doors to close. They slid shut with a loudwhooshjust as the song reached its chorus.

I shouldn’t do it.

But no time like the present, right?With my heart thumping loudly, I reached up my pencil skirt and took hold of my underwear at the hips. I wriggled out of them, slipped them over my ankles, and stuffed them in my handbag.

Just another day at the office.

Suddenly, on the 3rd floor it got crowded.Thank goodness I had already taken off my underwear and didn’t have to worry about it now. I nodded politely at all the friendly faces and pretended to be busy on my phone (not even saying hi as usual because: no underwear). With an innocent expression, I spent my ride up watching people come in and leave the elevator, floor by floor, wondering what exactly Ace was planning to do with me.

On the 7th floor, I got out.

The file that Ace had sent me to fetch was labeled “Hudson Yard Development.” It belonged to the project we’d sold the clients on during our first client meeting together. After I prepped the room, I scooped the file up off of the table and headed directly back to the elevator, but took the stairs up instead.

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