“I want to be clear with you, Catherine. Working for me is not easy. I keep long hours, travel often, and won’t stop to check on your feelings.”
I remained unruffled. Professional Catherine never let her emotions show, even if it felt like I’d swallowed a bag of angry vipers on the inside.
“I have friends who care about my feelings.”
He huffed an almost laugh. “Good for you. I do as well.”
“That’s nice. Should I expect them to stop by the office?”
He paused midmovement and stared at me, his mouth partially open. “That’s interesting. None of my former assistants have ever asked me something like that.” He scratched his forehead. “Weston Aldrich and Luca Rossi. They stop by for lunch occasionally. Don’t be charmed by Luca. That’s a dead end.”
“I’m immune to charm,” I informed him.
“That must be helpful.” He moved his mouse, glancing at his computer screen. “Every morning, you’ll write my schedule down on paper. You’ll find the notebook I prefer you to use in the top drawer of your desk. Black ink, never blue.”
I scribbled down his instructions, self-conscious of my blue pen. What was wrong with blue ink?
“Should I not email your schedule? Davida said—”
“Email too,” he said shortly. “You’ll do better not to take advice from Davida on how I like things run. She knows how Jeffrey likes things, but she’s his assistant, not mine. And for a reason.”
“Does that mean I’m free to ask you questions if I need to?”
His jaw rippled. “We’ll meet like this every morning. If you have questions for me, this will be the time to ask them. My schedule doesn’t allow for deviation.”
No questions. Got it.
“I understand.” I nodded. “Just to be certain, you want me to handwrite your schedule as well as email it to you?”
“Yes. Is that too much for you?”
He asked this with such a cutting edge it was all I could do not to flinch. Just great. I was already getting on his nerves, and it was only day one.
“It isn’t. I don’t have a problem doing that.”
“What a relief,” he intoned. “Are you aware of what we do here at LD?”
“Yes.” I understood his business more than most probably did since my father was in the same line. “You develop properties and flip them or rent them.”
“To put it simply.” He clicked his mouse twice, and I wondered if this was his tell when he was annoyed.
I’d definitely oversimplified his company. According to the articles I’d read, Levy Development owned skyscrapers in nine countries and their profits were in the billions. They often acquired their properties by sliding in and purchasing in foreclosure auctions after the original developer went bankrupt.
“We’ll be traveling to Zurich next week. My travel arrangements have been made, but you’ll need to book your flight and room as soon as possible.”
This time, I wasn’t able to school my reaction. “I’ll be traveling with you?”
“Of course. You’re my assistant. Do you think I won’t need you assisting me simply because my location changes?”
I shook my head. “No. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“You do have a passport, don’t you?”
“Yes.” My passport was one of my most prized possessions.
“Do you have a fear of flying?”
“No. Flying isn’t a problem.”
His chin lowered. “It’s settled. You’ll travel to Zurich with me. Make the arrangements.”
He turned away from me, his full attention on his computer again. I guessed I was dismissed, even though I had a thousand questions about what I was supposed to do.
I closed my notebook and stood, pausing to ensure he was truly finished with me. When he didn’t look up, I walked to the door.
My hand was on it when he called out, “Catherine.”
I turned back. “Yes, Elliot?”
His gaze swept over me. “Don’t forget to write down my schedule.”
“Got it. Black ink only.”
Chapter Three
Catherine
Five Months Later
For the one-hundred-and-eleventh day, I arrived at the office at eight a.m., sat down at my desk, flipped open a notepad, and neatly wrote Elliot Levy’s schedule in black ink.
And at the bottom, following the notation for his last meeting of the day, I included a postscript—which I’d been doing for a hundred and one days.