John shifts, blocking me into the corner. Soon, all I see is his black fabric of his suit. I whisper the information he should know into his left ear, his head tilted toward me. The elevator doesn’t empty until it stops at the floor below ours, and then everyone exits.

“Where the hell are they all going?” my boss mutters. “Isn’t that floor being renovated?”

I laugh. He doesn’t understand his appeal.

John turns, glares at me. “Are you laughing at me, Grant?”

“I wouldn’t dare laugh at you, sir.” The doors open and I slide past him, brushing my breasts against his arm. He stiffens and his eyes flash. I scurry into the hallway, wave at Nancy as I pass her desk, the receptionist talking on the phone. Five men and one woman wait in the leather chair.

John trails behind me, his tread silent. “Don’t turn off your phone.”

“I never turn off my phone, Mr. Powers.” I nod at Mr. Zanetti, the company’s young CIO. He smiles at me, his white teeth flashing in his tanned face.

John places his palm on the small of my back, the contact sending sparks down my spine. Mr. Zanetti lifts his gaze and his smile fades.

“We have a lot of work to complete today.” John’s voice has a hard edge.

That my boss feels obliged to warn me says it will be a very long day.  He enters his office, I sit behind my desk, and my phone buzzes against my hip. This is the first of many texts, John keeping me completely occupied for hours, requesting information, seeking status updates on projects, asking me to set up meetings.

Nancy calls me at eleven twenty. Rexton Bass, the brass young developer John is considering partnering with, has arrived. I return to the reception area to collect him.

Nancy speaks into her headset, her head turned toward the lobby’s leather chairs, her attention snagged by Bass. The budding entrepreneur is oblivious to her admiration. He sits with his back to the wall, his blond head bowed over the phone in his hands. His skin is a perfect shade of golden brown and I suspect this shade doesn’t vary over his trim physique, his tan being the product of a salon.

Rexton Bass is young, handsome, Harvard educated, and destined for success. Any other woman would lust after him. I feel nothing, no flare of arousal, no spark of interest. He’s not John. He’ll never be John.

“Mr. Bass.” I stride toward the developer.

He glances upward. His eyes are a startling sky blue. “Call me Rexton, Miss Grant.” Rexton slips his phone into his inside jacket pocket and rises to his feet.

Although Rexton’s gray suit and black cotton crewneck shirt are well designed and trendy, the garments clinging to his fashionably fit form, they’re wrong for this appointment. I hide my grimace. My more traditional boss will view his casual outfit as an insult, as a form of disrespect.

“I’m pleased to see you.” Rexton extends his hand, his movements graceful, almost beautiful.

I grip his fingers. His palm is smooth, not one callous marring his skin. He’s a baby. John’s voice echoes in my mind. I release his hand. “If you’ll come with me.” I cross the threshold into the main floor and walk along the hallway.

“Powers told me you promoted my project, Trella.” Rexton saunters beside me, matching my shorter stride, treating me as though I’m his equal and not merely an assistant. “May I call you Trella?”

I hesitate. No one in the company calls me by my first name. I turn my head, studying Rexton. He gazes at me expectantly. It’d be rude to say no. “Of course, you may.”

He smiles, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “Thank you for defending me.”

“I defended your project,” I clarify, Rexton’s gratitude warming me. He welcomes my help. He needs me. I can help him. “Don’t repeat anything covered in your previous calls.” I lower my voice and slow my pace. “Mr. Powers is a busy man. He doesn’t tolerate any rehashing of information.”

“That’s a good insight to have.” Rexton’s hand brushes against mine.

I don’t like him touching me. At all. I drift to the left, subtly putting more distance between us. “Don’t mention his personal connection to the neighborhood,” I coach. They are developing the block where John lived as a child. “This is a business decision for him and he won’t appreciate it.”

“Ahhh…that’s why he walked away during my first pitch.” Rexton’s lips twist. “I didn’t know.”

“You should have known.” After years of working for John, I no longer have any sympathy for sloppiness.

“I guess.” He sighs.

He’s a couple of years older than me yet I feel ancient, wise, needed. “Do more research next time.” We reach my desk. John’s door remains closed. “You can wait here for Mr. Powers.” I tap one of my guest chairs. The red light for John’s conference call line remains lit. I sit behind my desk, conscious of the handsome man lounging before me.

“Trella--”

My phone buzzes. “One moment.” I hold up my right index finger. John wants the sales comparables for the Wilmette project. I search the database and send him the information. “Sorry.” I turn to Rexton. “You were saying?”

“Was that Powers?” he asks. I dip my head. It was John. “He relies upon you, doesn’t he?”

He’s the second person this week to say this. “I’m his assistant.” I’m a resource for my boss, nothing more.

“I need an assistant.” Rexton shifts in his chair. “I tried to hire an assistant through an agency. The people they sent didn’t add any value.”

“You either have to train an assistant.” As John trained me. “Or you have to hire an experienced assistant already at the level of competency you require.”

“I don’t have time to train an assistant.” He holds my gaze.

He can’t be asking what I think he’s asking. My boss, the man he hopes to partner with, sits in the next office. To pouch his assistant would be rude, a declaration of war. “This isn’t a discussion you wish to have.” It isn’t a discussion I wish to have. Ever.

“We won’t discuss it here,” he concedes. John’s door opens and Rexton leans closer to me. “Are you free for lunch?”

“Bass,” John barks and I jump in my seat. My boss’ eyes flash, his face hard. He’s furious. This doesn’t bode well for his meeting with Rexton.

“Powers.” The developer leaps to his feet. The men’s palms smack together, the skin whitening around their grip. Rexton pulls his hand away first, conceding to John’s greater strength, and they move into the office, the door slamming shut behind them.

I receive a text message less than a minute later.

“That fool is asking about you.”

I groan. Rexton isn’t being subtle at all. He’ll cause trouble for both of us. I don’t reply, John’s statement not needing an answer.

My phone buzzes again. “Why the hell is he calling you Trella?” John asks. I read the anger in his words.

“Because Trella is my name,” I type. “I gave him permission to use it.”

“I didn’t give him permission,” my grumpy executive replies. “Send me the notes for the lunch meeting. This fool is wasting my time.”

 

Chapter Five

My boss’ office door opens at noon. A subdued Rexton and a furious John emerge, the silence between them strained. The look on my boss’ face tells me this deal is on life support. One more wrong move will kill it.

I suppress my sigh of disappointment and fix a smile to my face. “You’ll need this file for your meeting, sir.” I hand John a gray file folder with the information he requires. “If you’ll wait here, Mr. Bass.” I pat my guest chair. I don’t dare call him Rexton in front of my boss. “I’ll return to see you out.” We’ll have our talk then.

“Walk with me, Grant.” John waves the file, indicating that I should lead the way, buffering him from other employees. I’m not equal. Not at all.

“Of course, sir.” I stride toward the west meeting room, my back straight, my hips swaying. “The funding for the software rollout is in the budget but not all members of the team are on board.” I give him the insights he needs for the next meeting.