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CHAPTER 1
Stephanie
“Steph, your house does not look…uh…exactly like how I pictured it when you said you bought something new.”
That’s my boss’s code for what are you doing with all the money I pay you?
But it’s not like I get paid that much. The just under fifty thousand dollars I make every year to do everything for Adam Fino other than breathe doesn’t even begin to cover the renovations the house needs. I bought it a few months ago and haven’t had the time or cash to work on the major renovations. But I did hire people to fix the immediate, smaller problems. I guess when you buy an old character house in an ancient neighborhood, you’re going to inherit some problems. I knew there was a problem with the roof before I even bought the house, so I had a quote included in the sale. I knew the whole thing was going to have to be replaced, but that aside, the house and neighborhood are both perfectly charming, plus real estate isn’t exactly cheap anywhere.
“Uh, I just bought it a few months ago, remember? And I said I bought something new to me. Not new. There’s a difference.”
But you know what’s not charming?
What I’m about to do for my boss because the said house needs a new roof.
My boss.
Adam Fino, thirty-four-year-old billionaire. He inherited the company when his grandpa died, and his dad decided to enjoy life on a yacht somewhere in the Caribbean.
Adam is actually quite bearable. He’s not one of those rich kids who never worked a day in their life. He’s into the socks company. Yup, socks. That’s how he made his fortune, or at least, how his grandpa did—selling socks. All kinds of socks. Men’s, women’s, children’s.
Novelty. Compression. Sport. Medical grade. You name it; they have it—a sock for any event.
Anyway, Adam is a rock star when it comes to running the company.
Things he’s not that good at? Everything else. That sounds terrible, so I usually temper it with a kind of. So, kind of everything else.
My title is Executive Assistant, but really, I’m like the life fairy that flutters around, making sure Adam has everything he needs. And by everything, it entails anything from his low fat, coconut milk latte to making sure his twenty-million-dollar shack doesn’t have a single speck of dust. I actually don’t do much when it comes to the actual company work. I book meetings, take care of all of Adam’s travel details, and have access to most of his files and email in case he needs me to handle something, but that’s rather rare. Adam has a whole team of people under him that help him out with his socks, his socks sales, and his socks this and socks that.
I’m sure each and every one of them would like to sock him.
Well, okay, that’s not true. Maybe just me because Adam is truly pretty nice to everyone. He’s actually one of those bosses who care. A lot. About everything company-related and for everyone who works for him. He never forgets a name or a face. He has this steel-trap memory for all facts that are sock related. He always has these really good ideas and plans on how to execute them.
What he’s not so good at? His personal life. It’s kind of a mess, which is why I’m currently sitting beside him in his three hundred thousand dollar car. I’d say he’s overcompensating, but I saw his junk by accident once, so I know he’s not.
It’s a long story but there was this one time where I stopped by Adam’s house—and when I say house, I actually mean mansion—to drop off his dry cleaning. I could have let the cleaners do it, but the place is on my way home. I picked it up on a Friday and forgot the shit in my car overnight. I was panicking, thinking it was all wrinkled, but when I checked, it was fine. So, I decided to drop the package of anxiety off at Adam’s house. I obviously have the code because I have to schedule all the pool cleaners and maids and everything. So, I dropped the shirts off in Adam’s closet, and thinking he wasn’t home, I went into the backyard to check and make sure the pool had been properly cleaned the day before. Adam was back there, tanning. Nude.
There are really high fences and things like awnings and privacy screens in his neighborhood and around the house, so I guess he felt comfortable just getting loose and free out there.
He never knew I was there. I think he was sleeping. I just quickly backed the heck up and ran out of there. So uh, yeah. That’s how I know. I can’t exactly unsee it?
??his junk.
“Do you need help? We have to be at the lake in two hours, and traffic’s going to be terrible.”
What he means by do I need help is, can I grab all the shit we need. Neither of us has anything that would be suitable for camping because we have never gone camping once in either of our lives, so I had to buy a lot of crap, all just so Adam can make a point. And when I say make a point, I secretly think he’s going to try and win his ex-wife back. I mean, it doesn’t appear like he’s moved on in the two years since they’ve been divorced.
“No, I don’t need help. And yes, I’ll hurry,” I say, hoping Adam will decode it and realize I do indeed need help carting all the junk, but he smiles at me very nicely and takes out his phone. I immediately know he’s answering work emails.
There really isn’t that much stuff to pack into his trunk. I suppose I can handle two backpacks stacked full of camping and hiking gear, a tent, pillows, sleeping bags, coolers, and all. I mean, I said I could. I do handle a lot, and Adam really can’t help that he’s totally oblivious. I already bought everything the night before with Adam’s personal credit card. Yes, I do have that and his work credit card as well. He has a ton more to spare, and it’s just easier that way. I do have to do the expense sheets later, though.
When I’m done and finally try to get into the car, I basically have to melt myself into some substance made up of gelatinous goo to be able to slide into the passenger seat. The car is that low.
“Watch the door! The sidewalk!” Adam says in a panic, half-yelling at me.
