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“My desk?”
“Did you expect to stand the entire time you’re here?”
I know he’s my boss now, but I can’t help but laugh dryly. “Veryfunny.”
“You’re to accompany me to all of my meetings,” he continues without missing a beat. “You’ll be in charge of taking down minutes that I can review later. You’ll also be synced to my calendar and work email. You’ll also be in charge of my calls and texts. Only bother me with important correspondence.”
I put a hand on my hip. “How am I supposed to know what’s important and what isn’t?”
“Use your judgment.”
“That’s a lot of pressure. What if I’m wrong and accidentally mark something as spam?”
Hunter finally stops and stares at me, still and focused like a hawk. My rabbit heart races, unsure if I’ve managed to disappoint him already. IknowI can do a good job. I just need the chance to prove it.
“I suppose I can give you a bit of leeway the first couple of days,” he says eventually. “You’ll do fine, Eden. Most emails that come in should be automatically starred.”
There’s something about the way he says my name that sends goosebumps crawling down my arms and the back of my neck. His voice is so deep and low that I can’t help but marvel when I feel his words vibrate in my chest.
“Okay,” I say as evenly as possible. “What can I do for you while I set my phone up?”
“Help me find my damn watch.”
“Your watch?” I echo, stepping forward.
“My Rolex. I thought I had it on me this morning, but…”
My first instinct is to tease him —Getting forgetful already, are we? —but I hold my tongue. I know better than to bite the hand that feeds me.
I walk over to get a better look, determined to make myself useful now that I’m officially on his payroll. There are piles upon piles of folders and loose documents strewn about the glass surface. Pens lie askew, his expensive laptop open with at least thirty different tabs open, and what looks to be an inverse pyramid of empty coffee cups in his trash bin.
“You should use a reusable mug,” I mention casually as I search for any sign of his watch. “Don’t you know it’s better for the environment?”
His lack of an answer doesn’t bother me at first, until I turn to look at him and find that I’ve somehow managed to slip seamlessly into his personal space without realizing. He’ssoclose, observing me with a glint of heated curiosity in his eyes.
My mind blanks. I’m not sure what to say or do, too transfixed with the way his gaze seems to linger on my lips, slowly dragging down to my throat, to my chest. He’s so focused that I can’t help but hold my breath.
“When you’re here, you will address me as Mr. Stride,” he says bluntly.
When Hunter takes a single step forward, I take a single step back —almost like it’s a dance— with my hip bumping against the edge of the desk.A nervous little giggle bubbles past my lips. It’s not so much an anxious sound as it is turned on. Hunter’s shadow dwarfs me. It’s hard not to be overwhelmed by his domineering presence.
“Mr. Stride?”
“The formality is for your own good.”
“How do you figure?”
“We don’t want any rumors of any impropriety to start up, do we?”
Oh. Right. I simply nod.
“Do I make myself clear, Eden?
“Y-yes,” I breathe. I can barely hear myself over the rush of blood past my ears.
Neither of us makes a move. I find it impossible to move, like I’m trapped in his orbit with no will to escape. Confusion sweeps through me. What is this feeling? What the hell is going on?
“Yes what?” he grumbles, so low it knocks the air from my lungs.
