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I’ve made it to Friday, and while I don’t normally celebrate getting to the end of the week, I feel as though congratulations are in order.
It’s been hard.
Okay, so it’s been fun, too, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt so tired.
There’s been so much to learn, but Doreen has made it easy, giving me the benefit of her years of expertise and experience. She’s stepped back a little further every day, gradually letting me take over, and although Hunter seems a lot more efficient than he implied, I’ve seen how much he relies on Doreen, and I’ve wondered on more than one occasion, how I’m ever going to fill her shoes.
This afternoon, there’s a party being given in her honor, although I knew nothing about it until this morning, when Miranda called to say the caterers had arrived, and wanted to know where they should set up. I had to ask Hunter, who took over and dealt with everything, and it was then that I realized he’d organized the entire event without me even knowing.
It feels like everyone who works here is rammed into the boardroom. Hunter makes a speech and presents Doreen with gifts, one of which is from the staff, and the other from him. Doreen’s close to tears, but I grab a few minutes alone with her not long afterwards.
“I can’t thank you enough… for everything.”
She smiles up at me. “You don’t have to thank me, Livia. You’re gonna be just fine.” She tilts her head. “I think you’re just what Hunter needs.”
I’m not sure what she means by that, but before I can ask, one of the account executives, whose name I can’t remember, comes and whisks her away.
A tingle shudders down my spine. I feel as though I’m being watched, and after what happened with the photographs, it’s not a comfortable sensation. I turn, my eyes darting around the room, until they quickly settle on Miles Hampton, who’s staring straight at me. Fortunately, there are too many people here for him to get any closer, but he smiles and winks. I smile back, just to be polite, and then turn away again. God, he gives me the creeps.
My eyes are instantly drawn to Hunter, who’s standing over by the windows, talking to two women. I feel a claw of jealousy clutching at my heart, but I ignore it. What right have I got to be jealous of my playboy boss? None at all.
Their group is joined by a man and another woman, and while they all talk, I notice Hunter take a slight step back, and then raise his head, gazing across the room, directly at me. It’s as though he knew exactly where I was, and although I think about looking away, I don’t want to. There’s a hum of conversation continuing all around us, interrupted by peels of laughter and the clinking of glasses, but regardless of all that, we just stare…
For ages…
And ages.
I might be inexperienced with men, but do playboys really do things like this?
Do they capture your heart and hold it so gently?
I don’t know.
What I do know is that I’m really struggling not to tell him I don’t want him to be a playboy, but that I want to be his… always.
***
Hunter
Doreen’s been gone for a week now, and it’s the strangest thing… even though she’d been here almost since the beginning of time, and I often wondered how I’d ever cope without her, it already feels like she was never here at all.
In just a few short days, I’ve grown used to waking up with a feeling of excitement in the pit of my stomach because I’m looking forward to coming in to work. I’ve become more accustomed to the way my heart flips over in my chest every time I see Livia sitting behind her desk… because it’s her desk now, not Doreen’s. I’m slightly better at controlling my reactions to hearing her voice on the phone when she transfers calls, although I still struggle when she wanders into my room, and I look up to see her standing there, so beautiful, before me.
I think we work together really well, and she’s fitting in perfectly, although it took her a couple of days to get used to not knocking on my doorframe before coming in.
“You don’t have to do that, you know?” I said from behind my desk, when she’d done it for the third time on her first morning after Doreen had left.
“Do what?” She looked a little startled, evidently unsure what I was talking about.
“Knock on the door… or even the doorframe.”
“Oh. Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“But what if you were…” She blushed, which I found both arousing and intriguing.
“What if I was what?”
