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“Friendly atmosphere you have here,” I say dryly.
“It usually is.” She laughs. “We tend to invite new people in with open arms, since we know that we’re all going to be put through the same hell in no time. Better to have friends in the trenches than enemies, right?”
I blanche a little, and she must see the look on my face, because she laughs again.
“It’s not literally hell. It’s just a whole lot of difficult, chaotic work. All those businesses Lucas has a piece of, they all need attention, and some of them needa lotof attention. We have to have eyes and ears all over town and keep track of all the ups and downs. It’s a lot of work, but it’s fulfilling, exciting, and frequently surprising. And working like we do, you need to have people you trust around you.”
I start to frown, then stop myself, wrestling my features into a more neutral expression. If the people here already don’t like me, scowling at them isn’t going to help at all.
“I don’t want to say that I don’t believe you, but—” we pass a woman who literally scoffs and rolls her eyes at me as I pass, “—that.”
Naamah purses her lips, “Ah, that. Don’t worry. It has less to do with you and more to do with Lucas.” I give her a questioning look and she smiles sympathetically. “He does what he wants, you know. He doesn’t make a habit of covering his tracks, because who’s going to tell him off? Nobody, that’s who. That’s why I make a point to give him shit once in a while. So, when he spends tens of thousands of dollars on‘onboarding costs’for his new personal assistant—and those costs are accrued at designer boutiques and cold hard cash—everybody hears about it, because it’s right there on the books.”
My heart sinks. I didn’t exactly anticipate this morning’s shopping spree to be common knowledge. “I’m guessing he doesn’t do that for all of his personal assistants?”
Her mouth twists in a wry sort of smile. “I wouldn’t know. He’s never had a personal assistant before.” Her head turns forward as she continues, “He’s a very private sort of man, likes to compartmentalize his life and his business. A good personal assistant is sort of an extra limb or an auxiliary brain, someone who knows a little bit of everything and can make sure that nothing falls through the cracks. Or at least makes sure their employer has eaten, showered, and slept that day. It really depends on the needs of the employer.”
She makes an impatient noise and shakes her head. “I’m getting distracted. You were wondering why the office hasn’t been very welcoming. The thing is, Sophia, Lucas is gorgeous. I’m sure you’ve noticed. More than that, he’s a man in power. He’s royalty around here, and there isn’t a straight woman or a gay man in this building who hasn’t fantasized about being his sweet little Cinderella. That preferential treatment you’re getting? It’s what they all want. So what you’re seeing is envy, plain and simple.”
She shrugs and pats my shoulder empathetically before opening the door we are paused in front of. “Here we go, the file room. Alphabetized and then numerically ordered. Let me know if you run into trouble, I’ll be around here somewhere.”
I thank her and run off to find the file, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that this job is going to be much more of a social challenge than a challenge of my skills.
* * *
By five o’clock,that seed of doubt in my stomach has blossomed into a full-blown garden.
Every task I’ve been given has been extremely simple. Well, the taskswouldhave been easy, if I hadn’t kept running into people who were determined to be obstreperous. Even filling out my new hire paperwork was a frustrating exercise.
Everywhere I’ve gone in this building, people have seemed determined to hate me before I even opened my mouth, and it’s exhausting.
At five o’clock exactly, Lucas texts me, telling me to meet him by his car.
Despite the fact that I desperately wish my own car was here at the office so I could just drive myself home from here, I’m still glad to get his message. I’ve never been more relieved to leave a place in my life.
I make my way to his car in the garage, and I only have to wait for a minute or two before he joins me. His gaze tracks over my face as he strides toward me, and I feel like he’s x-raying me with his eyes. I’m exhausted, disheartened, and stressed out, and I know I look it. He, on the other hand, looks as fresh as he did this morning.
So not fair.
He hits the button to unlock the flashy Mercedes and gestures for me to get in. I guess chivalry is a morning activity—not that it matters.
“Did you enjoy your day?” he asks as we pull out of the parking garage.
“Well, I—” I start to say that I really had no idea what I was supposed to bedoingwith my day, but he interrupts me.
“You’ll get the hang of it. Office politics can be a bitch.”
“I guess so.”
He turns on the radio as we hit the freeway and turns it up to just above a comfortable speaking volume.
Okay. Message received.
I figure this must be his after-work routine, and I don’t want to interfere with such rituals. I’ll need to learn them if I’m going to be any good at this personal assistant thing. Since conversation is clearly off the table, I sit quietly and try not to flinch as he zips through traffic at insane speeds.
He does open my door for me when we reach his place. His mood seems to have lifted, although he still isn’t exactly friendly.
“Go ahead and come straight to the office tomorrow,” he tells me. “The day starts at eight.”
