Page 2 of His Assistant

“You don’t need to name them to read a date.”

I pretend not to hear them since it’s doing nothing to calm my nerves. Instead, I clutch my own folder containing my resume tighter to my chest and tap my foot impatiently at the world’s slowest elevator.

Then someone rounds the corner too fast. A hard shoulder slams into mine and I nearly fall to the floor. My folder wasn’t so lucky though and slips dramatically from my hand. Pages from my résumé scatter across the floor. A stack of black presentation folders hits the marble at the same time, and now there’s a huge mess. Why, God, why? This is the last thing I need right now.

Then I look up. The man who ran into me is tall, broad, and ridiculously attractive. Like, I’d probably forget my own name if he asked attractive. He’s wearing a dark, expensive suit. I’m guessing at least $5,000, not counting the shirt or cufflinks. His dark hair is graying a little at the temples, though it’s more silver than gray. He’s scowling even though he’s the one who ran into me, and that just irritates me further.

He looks at the mess on the floor, then at me. “Are you okay?”

His voice is low and calm. Not gentle, exactly, but also not rude despite his annoyed expression.

“Yes,” I say quickly, willing the conversation to end so I can get away from his piercing stare.

His eyes drop to my badge. “You’re on the wrong floor,” he says, almost as if he’s reprimanding me.

“Yes, I know,” I breathe out. “I followed someone off the elevator, and now I’m waiting⁠—”

“Mr. Vieri, I’m sorry,” a woman cuts in before I can finish explaining. “They moved the Sterling meeting up, the packets are all wrong, and Anthony isn’t answering his phone.”

Mr. Vieri. As in Dominic Vieri. As in the man whose name is on the freaking building.

My stomach drops.

Can this day get any worse?

“Those packets?” Dominic Vieri asks as the three of us slowly look down at the mess on the floor.

I crouch down immediately and start gathering up papers, trying to sort them somehow.

“Which packets are wrong?” I ask the woman.

She blinks at me in surprise. “What?”

I lift one of the folders. “Are all of them wrong, or only some?”

She seems perplexed and annoyed that I’m asking her.

“I don’t know,” she admits slowly.

I nod and start stuffing papers back into the folders. Dominic Vieri certainly isn’t going to risk creasing his $5,000 suit to help.

I open the first folder just enough to read the top page.

Sterling Hospitality Acquisition.

Confidential.

Great. I’m already committing light corporate espionage. Then I realize the date is wrong.

“This one is old,” I say, holding up the folder to the woman.

Dominic Vieri says nothing.

I check three more.

“These two are old, too. This one is current. The current agenda mentions the revised labor projections.”

A young man with glasses appears behind the woman. “How do you know that’s the current version?”