Page 53 of Assistant to the Billionaire CEO

21

STELLA

Monday

Knock. Knock. Knock-knock.

My fingers grazed shakily against Ace’s office door. It almost seemed to shudder at my touch. After the meeting with Damon, I had hardly closed an eye. Was Ace really a ruthless, dangerous businessman, an evil monster who would stop at nothing to get his way?

“Come in.” His deep voice boomed darkly, menacingly from somewhere behind it.

The door’s ornate handle felt like ice in my palm as I twisted it. Inching open the door, I could hear Vivaldi’sGloria in D Majorplaying softly in the background. A waft of air hit me as I opened it further. It smelled of whiskey, coffee, and Ace’s cologne:invigorating, fresh, and powerful.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he rumbled sternly.

There was something merciless about the way he looked at me from across the table. It reminded me of the way a raptor looked at their desperately fleeing prey just before they pounced.

“I’m sorry if I’m late,” I squeaked as I stepped inside. His office was dark. The only source of light was a handful of candles on his desk. And white roses. That was so odd! I looked up and saw him lock his drawer, get up from his office chair, and approach me rapidly.

“You know I hate being kept waiting,” he practically growled, getting closer and closer to me. He paused when he was about a foot away from me and reached out, bracketing his hands on either side of my head, pressing me against the wall. “But you’re worth waiting for. Now—on your knees.”

“Wh-at?” I stuttered.

My nervous system called a “code red,” and my body started going haywire. My knees trembled, my heart raced, and beads of sweat formed along my brow and between my heated breasts. My tight nipples pressed against the fabric of my new sunflower dress, rubbing against it teasingly. To make matters worse, I suddenly realized I wasn’t wearing a bra or panties. A chilly breeze waltzed in through Ace’s open balcony door. It swirled up my dress and caressed the area where my underwear should have been.

How could I possibly have forgotten to put on underwear? I mean, wearing no bra during office hours, yep, been there done that, but no panties? That was a whole new level of taboo. There was no excuse for that.

I gulped and put my hand on my quivering chest, trying to calm my frantic pulse. “I think there’s been a mistake of some kind—”

“Now, I’m only going to say this one more time. On your knees.”

Holy shit. I dropped to my knees.

“Atta girl.” His upper body leaned down toward me and he cupped my chin, his face moving closer and closer to mine as I prepared for our lips to meet. His mouth almost grazed across mine, almost touched but did not, and my heart almost stopped when his deep gaze penetrated mine.

“Such a good assistant,” Ace growled against my lips.

He leaned back up to a standing position without kissing me (you tease, you…you…bossy grump!), and his free hand reached for his belt, unbuckling it.

Oh, my goodness.

With a tug, he suddenly held my head and messy hair in his palm. “Open wide.”

I began to wonder whether I would be needing a bra and panties after all.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Sitting bolt upright in bed, I slammed my fist down on the red collector’s item alarm clock on my bedside table.

It had all just been a dream.Whaaat?How?Noooo. How anticlimactic.Seriously? Now I was mad! I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. For a moment, I allowed myself to hope it might have been possible. I considered lying down again and doingthat, but glancing over at my pretty alarm clock, I realized I didn’t have time to slip back into my saucy slumber for even a minute or two unless I wanted to risk running late—which I didn’t. Begrudgingly, I kicked on my fluffy white slippers and stretched my arms above my head.

Over the next several minutes, I tried to forget the specter of Ace that had visited me in my sleep, and prepared for work. Definitely a bad hair day, just like in my dream. My hair was all over the place, and I was barely able to get the frizz under control.

Gulping down a bowl of fruit salad and yogurt for breakfast, I tried to erase my highly inappropriate dream from my memory. “Hey, Bossy Grump,” I muttered to myself, “stopliving rent free in my mind. I am a good assistant, but nowhere did I sign up forthat. Not happening, nuh-uh. I’m a professional, not a teenager with a crush.”

After making sure that I was, in fact, wearing a braandpanties, I skipped through my front door. Northern Cardinals were singing their early-morning songs in a loud string of clear down-slurred or two-parted whistles, heralding in the blossoming spring, and the sun’s optimistic rays painted the city a soft golden color. It was a beautiful morning by anyone’s definition. I paused to breathe in the smell of jasmine that was wafting from my old neighbor’s garden before crossing the lawn that lay between me and the bright-yellow cab that awaited me.

“How’d your essay go?” I asked Jay as I slid onto the cab’s back seat.

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