I’d be ice.
I’d be stone.
I’d be as I promised Ruth—unflappable.
When we stopped in front of the door, Marion knocked. “Mr. McCord? Your new assistant is here. Shall I send her in, sir?”
From within the office came the sound of a deep and displeased male voice. “I’m in the middle of something.”
Marion turned to me and tittered. “Probably giving himself that enema he needs so badly.”
It was so unexpected, I had to laugh.
A moment later, the door was yanked open from the inside.
And there he stood. The man I enjoyed a scorching night of dirty, unforgettable sex with a month ago. Mr. Dark and Stormy himself.
Cole.
I thought I was going to faint.
But I managed to conceal my shock and restrain the cry of joy and disbelief that wanted to burst from my chest. I stood expressionless, all that determination I’d cemented on my way here acting as support for my gelatinous backbone and weak knees.
Then Cole stared at me with a look of such absolute horror, my shock turned to hurt.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he shouted.
He could not have made it more obvious that the sight of me was as pleasant as having his face smashed in with a brick. Also obvious was the fact that of the two of us, only I had fond memories of the evening we shared.
Judging by his expression and tone of voice, Cole thought I gave him an incurable venereal disease.
But because I promised Ruth and poor Marion standing next to me cowering in terror that I’d be fearless in the face of this idiot’s wrath, I looked him up and down like he was wearing a suit made of dog turds and replied icily, “I’m reporting for work…boss.”
He looked at me as if he were going to puke.
Then he slammed the door shut in our faces.
Pressing a trembling hand over her heart, Marion said, “I’m so sorry.”
For her sake, I managed a smile. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault. Now, why don’t you show me where my desk is so I can settle in?”
Marion’s eyes widened. “You’re staying?”
“Oh, I’m staying, all right. And when Mr. McCord decides he’s done with his temper tantrum and shows his face, please tell him I said that if he treats me with such disrespect again, I’ll file a complaint with HR. And if he retaliates for that and fires me, I’ll sue him. Not only the corporation, but him personally too. Will you tell him that for me?”
Marion looked at me in awe and reverence, as if I’d become her new religion.
Meanwhile, I wondered what I’d done to so offend the universe that it kept sending me these butthole men.
Cole
I stand with my arms braced against my closed office door and try to figure out what the fuck is happening inside my body.
It feels as if I’m about to die.
That isn’t hyperbole. I’ve been close to death several times, and this is pretty much what it feels like. The only thing missing is a pool of blood.
I close my eyes and listen to the crash of my heartbeat. I concentrate on steadying my shaking hands. I visualize a tranquil meadow and draw deep breaths. When none of that works, I spend several minutes pacing the length of my office until I’ve finally pulled myself together.
When I open my office door, the hallway is empty. I don’t know why I expected Shay to still be standing there.
Probably hope.
I stride down the corridor and approach the receptionist at her desk. She’s on the phone. When she catches sight of my face, she seems to shrink several inches.
I stand beside her desk and stare down at her, impatience gnawing at me, until she hangs up. Then I demand, “Where is she?”
“Sh-she, sir?”
“The new hire.”
“Oh, uh, she went downstairs, sir. I called Simone to show her around.”
Unlike my father’s and brother’s assistants who share the floor with us, each office accessed by a different elevator, my executive assistant sits with other administrative and support staff on the floor below.
The fewer people I have near me, the better.
I’m walking away, headed to the elevator, when the receptionist says something that stops me dead in my tracks.
“Oh, Mr. McCord? Shay asked me to relay a message to you.”
I turn, narrowing my eyes when I see how she’s looking at me.
Is that a smirk?
No, I must be imagining things. This woman—what the hell is her name?—doesn’t smirk. She’s too scared of me to smirk.
“What’s the message?”
“She said to tell you that if you speak to her with such disrespect again, she’ll file a complaint with human resources.”