Julian lets out an unexpected laugh. “I was going to say challenging. But yes. That too. He’s gone through his fair share of assistants over the years.” His forehead wrinkles in concentration. “But this last year has been particularly bad. We usually don’t have this many problems with him.”
“Because he is an asshole and can’t control himself?” My question is totally inappropriate, but so is my hatred toward the bastard. I hate him for taking my self-control away from me with his sexy smirk and giant shoulders.
Another awkward laugh. “Yes. But my job is to match the right people for the right job, and per my observations, he just hasn’t found the right match.”
As I keep staring at him, he throws the paper to the side, losing the professional persona for a moment. “Look, he is rich and very handsome. People like him tend to be assholes.”
“Including to his assistants?”
He just shrugs. “Especially to them.”
“Hire someone older for him,” I suggest helpfully. “Maybe he’ll feel bad yelling at them.”
“We did,” he sighs as his shoulders slump. “They can’t keep up with his pace of work.”
“A man then?” Another helpful offer.
“They bump heads,” he replies in a flat voice.
“A submissive man?” I suggest with a shrug, making both of his eyebrows raise. A heavy silence is answer enough about how much he didn’t like my question. And to be fair, I went too far. But over the last few minutes of our meeting we’ve both kind of crossed the line of professionalism. I’m sure there are a dozen HR protocols he’s broken with me here.
I love being a virtual assistant, so trying to be a real assistant where I can physically oversee the things needing to be doneandget paid handsomely for it sounds like something I’ve been wanting to try for a long time. Plus, opening my own assistant agency has been my dream for the past couple years. Having this experience in one of the top companies in the world could be huge. Plus, the pay doesn’t hurt.
“What if he fires me? The man doesn’t like me very much either.”
Julian’s face brightens. “He’s out of options. There’s a massive project underway after they had that scandal with the burned building, so I’ve been sending temps upstairs left and right. They all run screaming.”
A reckless challenge sparks in my chest, oddly bringing me back to life. How bad could he be? I survived my parents; I’m sure I can handle working for Noah King, who’s clearly been struggling for the past year like I have. It’s a different sort of struggle, but it makes me a little happy—and petty—hearing that his life hasn’t been strawberries and rainbows.
“Okay, I’ll take the job.” Sitting straighter, I pick up the pen and pull the paper to me to sign it before I can change my mind.
He snatches the paper from under my hand the exact moment I finish scribing my name with a triumphant grin.
“Fantastic!” He jumps to his feet and circles the table. “Let’s go!’
“Where?” I blink, not understanding what’s happening.
“Up.” He points his finger skyward, heading for the door. “I’ll walk you there.”
“To King’s office?”
“Yes, to their floor. Let’s go.” He gestures for me to get my butt off the chair.
“You’re going to walk me yourself?” I ask, scrambling to follow.
“Yes, move now,” he urges in a clipped tone, ushering me along. “C’mon.”
“Aren’t there people for that?” I protest slightly, trying to call to his common sense. Which he’s clearly lost because he keeps waving at me to move faster.
“Stop stalling. Enjoy the VIP escort.”
When we walk past the secretary on the way out, he pauses at her desk for a moment. “Lara, hold my next appointment. I’m walking Ms. Wrong upstairs.”
“Upstairs?” Lara winks, biting her pen.
“Upstairs.”
“Have fun upstairs,” she says with a giggle, startling me. “I’ll call you if anything urgentarises.”
