There’s something deep within me that wants to achieve Whitney’s approval. She was so attached to her old boss that I feel like I have some high expectations to live up to, which, inthe business world, is something I’m no stranger to. But in real life, struggling with feeling like I’m worthy has been something I’ve always had a hard time facing. Aside from the workplace, I just want her to likeme.
It’s been a long, long time since I’ve been this desperate for a woman’s attention. Yet, every day, I feel like I’m pining after her for even the simplest lingering glance or, if I’m lucky, a smile.
“That’s great, Theo,” she says, and by the tone of her voice, I can tell she really means it. “I love that.”
My chest puffs out a little at her praise, and my face morphs into a dopey smile. I can’t help it. In our short time together, she’s brought out a side of me that I had no idea existed.
I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to please her like this all the time. I could easily see myself becoming addicted to the way her eyes light up with pleasure after hearing what I’m saying to her or seeing the look of awe morph over her features.
As we finish our lunches and walk back to the office, I know I’m in deep shit.
Already, I’m in way too deep. With each second that goes by, I feel our connection deepening and strengthening into a friendship, a partnership.
Which, at face value, may be fine, but I know those lines can easily be blurred.
How easy would it be for one of us to cross over into territory from which we can never come back?
As Whitney takes her seat at her desk, my chest pangs with regret. I shouldn’t have pushed her so hard to have lunch with me. I should have accepted her excuses as a fact that she had no interest in getting to know me better. I should’ve kept the line between us drawn. But I just couldn’t help myself.
The company policy is clear, and that fact lingers in the back of my mind, forcing self-doubt to rear its ugly head every so often as I go through the rest of the day.
I enjoyed my time with her. But we got the chance to know each other a little better now, differently from just boss and assistant roles.
But despite it all, when the day ends and she flashes me that pretty smile of hers before leaving, I know that even with the risks, I regret nothing.
I like her. I like Whitney Palmer, the woman, way more than I like Whitney Palmer, the assistant.
Which means I’m in trouble. We couldbothbe in trouble.
Big time.
Whitney
When I hearthe elevator door ding, announcing that someone is getting off on our floor, I hastily reach for my purse and pull out my powder compact. I feel silly as I open it and glance at my reflection, making sure that every hair is where it should be and that I don’t have lip stain on my teeth, or mascara marks under my eyes.
Just as I’m snapping it closed, Theo walks around the corner and into the line of sight of my desk. He has a folder in his hands, but the minute he’s in my vicinity, he looks up and gives me a wide smile. My heart skips a beat as my lips pull up.
His eyes quickly survey me sitting behind my desk, which sends my heart into overdrive. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of how he looks at me as if I’m the most important person on Earth.
“How’s the day looking?” he asks as he comes closer to my desk. He sets his folder down on top of some of my papers and then leans over the desk, into my personal space.
I catch a whiff of his clean scent, and my mouth goes dry with something I can only attribute to desire.
With every day that passes, my crush on my boss seems to deepen. And I don’t know what to do about it.
Swallowing thickly, I turn my computer toward him so he can see his schedule. It’s a somewhat light day because I know he still has a lot of headway to make on his reports. There are a few video calls scheduled with different agents whom Theo has yet to meet, but I did my best to cluster them together so he could use the rest of his time efficiently.
Theo hums low in his throat as he peruses his schedule. He points out a block that I manually put in there this morning. It’s holding the spot right before our lunch hour. “What’s that for?”
I grimace. “Elena asked to have a phone call with you today.”
Theo looks as if I’ve just betrayed him. “You’re kidding.” I shake my head ruefully. “Did she say what about?”
Again, I shake my head. “No, she didn’t. I’m sorry.”
He groans and hangs his head, his dark curls flopping over his head. “You’re killing me over here, Whit.”
Whit.
