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The office was massive, probably the size of half the floor. One whole wall was made up of glass that gave an outstanding view of the city. Skyscrapers towered high for as far as the eye could see, their mirrored, iridescent windows casting rainbows across the glass.
The rest of the office was just as expensive and immaculate as everything else, but she didn’t expect any less, especially when stepping into the office of Dietrich Moore. His desk was to her right, but “desk” didn’t quite describe the mammoth piece of glass and chrome that had to be over seven feet in length.
She let her gaze travel the rest of the room. Black and white abstract paintings lined the walls, but the one above his desk was huge and painted an angry red. Swirls and splashes on the canvas reminded her of blood being sprayed.
She pulled her cardigan tighter around her chest. The rumors she had heard about “The Bear” were enough to give anyone nightmares, and now she had agreed to work directly for him.
Blythe went over and sat in one of the two black leather couches several feet across from the desk. A bar fully stocked with liquor was to her left, and the idea of taking a few shots to help ease her nerves sounded glorious at the moment.
Shifting on the leather, she felt heat spread through her. At twenty-three, she shouldn’t be getting hot flashes, but the prospect of whom she was about to meet scared the shit out of her. She swept her gaze back to his desk.
The standard equipment lined the glass: top-of-the-line computer, a few stacks of files, and a phone. It was bare, for all intents and purposes, given the fact this was the CEO of one of the country’s most affluent corporations.
A Newton’s Cradle caught her eye, and she stood. When she was in front of his desk, she reached forward and grabbed the small metallic ball at one end. It was cool and heavy between her fingers, and when she let it go and watched the hypnotic momentum of the two end balls swinging in tandem, she became lost in thought. Intense heat seeped up her back, and the sense of no longer being alone invaded her.
Blythe spun around and came face-to-face with a very wide, suit-covered chest. She gripped the edge of the desk behind her and craned her neck back. She had seen plenty of pictures in the tabloids of Dietrich Moore, but standing right in front of him did not do him justice. The click, click, click of the cradle filled the room.
He leaned forward, and his scent invaded her nostrils. His cologne was subtle yet powerful, and when he was so close that the tanned flesh of his neck was inches from her mouth, she had to hold her breath or make a very embarrassing moan.
The mesmerizing noise stilled seconds later, and he pulled away. His dark blue eyes regarded her silently. In person, he was even more gorgeous. Dark hair cut short, yet long enough to sweep over his forehead, had her fingers itching to brush the strands away.
“Do you know what Newton’s Cradle demonstrates?” His voice was deep and sexy, and she could imagine he sounded like that in the bedroom. Blythe found herself shaking her head in response. “It demonstrates conservation or momentum and energy by the series of swinging spheres.” Blythe didn’t respond because, honestly, she didn’t know how to. He took several steps back, and she finally exhaled. She hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath that whole time.
For several long moments, he watched her, and Blythe felt like an insect under a microscope. The awkwardness grew inside of her until she started to shift on her feet.
“Didn’t anyone ever explain to you that you shouldn’t touch others’ belongings, especially if they are your boss’s possessions?”
If Blythe hadn’t been speechless before, his words would have shut her the hell up right then.
She knew exactly what she was getting into when she agreed to accept this job, but damn if he didn’t bring a whole new level to the word asshole. She dropped her head and clasped her hands behind her back. “I apologize, Sir.” For several long seconds, he didn’t respond, and Blythe was struck with his commanding aura.
He didn’t even have to say anything for his presence to make an impact.
His long, slow exhale had her lifting her eyes to him. He hadn’t moved from his spot, but there was a strange expression on his face that she couldn’t quite read. “So you’re my temporary PA?” His voice was curt and to the point, and she straightened her shoulders.
“Yes, Sir.” He stopped and looked at her once again. A slight frown marred the space between his eyes, but it was gone as soon as it had made an appearance. He took a seat behind his desk and rested his forearms on the tabletop.
“Take a seat, Miss…”
“Winters. Blythe Winters, Sir.” She stuck her hand out and immediately regretted it when he looked at it strangely. She went to pull it away, but his bigger hand encased hers. His flesh was warm and smooth, and she felt her face heat with some uncomfortable feeling.
This man would be her boss for the next four weeks, and here she was acting like some kind of hormonal teenager. It was just a handshake for God’s sake. He held her hand a few seconds longer than what she always considered socially acceptable, and Blythe felt her cheeks heat even more.
When he did release his hold on her, she quickly clasped her hands together and placed them on her lap. He leaned back in his chair and continued to stare at her. She was starting to think she had something on her face by the amount of attention he gave her.
“Have you been briefed on your duties?”
She had left her purse and the envelope the receptionist had given her on the couch, but she didn’t go to get it. Of course, it wasn’t her fault that there was no time for someone to give her the details on what she was supposed to do, but she wasn’t going to admit that to him. Besides, she had a feeling he wouldn’t care about any excuse she gave him.
Before she could answer, he continued talking.
“My private jet leaves for Portugal tomorrow afternoon. A car will pick you up at four p.m. sharp. You’ll need to pack for the entire month because I am not sure how long my presence is needed in Lisbon.” His desk phone rang, and he picked it up and barked out, “Yeah?”
His deep blue gaze held hers as he listened to whomever it was on the other line. But then he broke the eye contact and turned his chair so he was no longer looking at her. Apparently, she had been dismissed.
Blythe stood, grabbed her purse and the envelope off the couch, and headed toward his office doors. Just as her hand curled around the brass, his deep voice stopped her.
“I expect you to be ready to leave when I send the driver tomorrow, Miss Winters. I also expect you to know my schedule inside and out. I don’t have time to explain the details of my every move. If you feel you can’t keep up, you need to tell me now. Do you understand?”
