“Photographic memory?”
“I’ve done research. I am familiar with the Redwood Hotel, sir. I also used to work–”
“Your employment history isn’t important to me. Only your performance. Which will be tested in the next day or two,” I state as we step back inside the elevator.
“Of course, Mr. Graves,” she says, and I swear there’s a tone there. Small. Discrete. Enough to brush my nerves.
She walks side by side with me down the hallway of the second to last floor, and I stop at a door in the corner. It’s a large room with chic decorum more suited to the tastes of a woman than a man. Bookshelves and floral art, decorative furniture and a white marble and gold desk. There are also windows on two sides overlooking the entire city and a fish tank that goes floor to ceiling as well.
“What is this room for?” she asks.
“This is your office,” I answer, and she spins around.
“This…is my office?” she echoes.
“Is that a problem?” I ask.
“No. I just…it’s so…”
Luxurious? Over the top? Perfect? I know.
“You will have direct access to everyone you need to be in contact with in the hotel. You will also have a personal secretary for any needs that may arise, who works directly with me as well. I will introduce you to more staff tomorrow. For now, let’s get some of the logistics underway.”
“Yes, sir,” she nods, her eyes still sweeping the room. Unlike past women who have been in this room, she seems overwhelmed. Like she doesn’t deserve it. That’s new.
“You have a general idea of the day-job details. But as agreed upon, there are after-hours expectations as well.” I open the laptop on the desk and pull out the velvet, seashell-shaped roller chair for her. Annelise isn’t the only one who did her homework. Her social media was very private. But I did find her on Pinterest, and it’s safe to say I know her taste. Her Bambi eyes and lack of words tell me I hit the decorum on the head.
“This document should outline everything you need to know,” I tell her. I stand behind her as she reads the words to herself, her cheeks flushing to a deeper rose occasionally.
You will present as my assistant, but also my partner.
You will remain monogamous to me.
Public displays of affection–kissing, petting etc., are expected and nonnegotiable, led by me.
Obviously, you are expected to be interested in me. Do not appear clingy or overly doting. Find the balance.
After-hours events are also mandatory. You will wear the appropriate attire provided by me. You will not alter it in any way. During visits to the Opal Room, you will remain within two feet of me at all times. No eye contact with any men other than me. You will follow my lead, and while you will not be forced to do anything you do not consent to, a mutual agreement of what is expected will be made.
After-hours activities may take place any time of day at my command.
“This is…a lot,” she says.
“Are you capable of complying?” I ask. “Because if you’re going to back out, now would be the time.”
Annelise bites her lip and then, after a moment, shakes her head and signs the contract.
She lets out a shaky breath, and I swivel her chair to face me. Then I lower down to her, lowering my voice as well. “I will never harm you,” I tell her.
Annelise swallows hard and nods.
“Very good,” I whisper gruffly. Then, I brush my thumb over her lips. I want to kiss her. But I won’t. If I allowed myself that, I wouldn’t be able to control the beast in me that wants more. Needs more.
So I pull back and head to the door. “There is a dress hanging in the closet, there in the corner. That is for your night shift.”
“Night shift? Tonight?” she stutters, still shaken from the moment that is also jarring me.
“Yes. Is that a problem?” I ask.
