He sighed, one hand lifting to run through his hair. “I know I’m a hard guy to work for, okay? And I might havesomemicromanaging tendencies, but?—”
“You’re asking too much from an assistant, Cal.”
He frowned at me.
I spread my palms. “From what I’ve seen from working with you, you need a dedicated travel coordinator. Not an assistant. Not an administrator who also has seventeen million other tasks. The needs of your business, travel-wise, are way too onerous to be anything other than someone’s full-time job.” I forced myself to look away from him and glared at the green felt on the billiards table over his shoulder. “But what do I know? It’s only my bread and butter.”
“And you’re the best at it,” he said. “That’s why I want you on my team.”
My throat grew tight, and I forced myself not to glow at his praise. My eyes remained on the table, but the tips of my fingers trembled.
He knew how to push my buttons. All my buttons.
I’d grown up being shoved aside. My education was never as important as my brother’s. I had no college fund. No help with scholarship applications. No time for the extracurriculars or volunteer positions that might have made me look attractive to prestigious schools. All I had was a dangerous concoction of brains,determination, and stubbornness—and yet I’d grown up craving approval from my parents, my brothers, my teachers.
Even now, as a grown adult with a business and full independence, hearing a powerful man with innate authority tell me that I was good at my job made me want to lean toward him and simper.
It was pathetic. I hated how much I wanted someone to recognize my efforts, how much I craved the praise I’d been denied as a child. I loved it when he told me I looked like a princess. I loved the fact that he washere. And I hated every bit of it at the same time.
So I huffed and arched a brow at him, hiding how much his words had affected me. “You expect me to give up my business? Delusional, even for you.”
“A non-exclusive contract. Six months,” he countered, still standing too close, still watching me like he wanted to devour me. “You could keep working on your business while you work for me. My team’s travel needs would take priority, but you’d have time to work on your own projects.”
“How much time? How would I ensure that you don’t use the priority clause to push out all my regular clients?” I shot back.
“I’d leave that up to you.”
It was my turn to laugh.
He had the audacity to look offended. “What’s so funny?”
“Mr. Frost,” I clipped, shaking my head. “There isn’t a hope in hell that you would leave anything up to me. And that’s why I could never work for you.”
Cal’s jaw bulged as he ground his teeth. His eyes slid away from mine, and I exhaled. Holding eye contact with him had started to become difficult. After a moment, he seemed to come to a decision. He met my gaze again, and without preamble, he said, “I’m about to lose a hundred-million-dollar contract because of a series of fuckups with travel arrangements. The travel agentmessed up a connection, and the company owners were stranded in Atlanta for twelve hours. We promised to put them up in a hotel, but it was overbooked, and then the agent never answered their calls to fix the problem. Another VC firm got wind of it and swooped in to get them to the city to start negotiations.”
I straightened, shocked at his honesty. “And you can’t salvage the relationship?”
“I’m trying, but it’s not looking good. I can’t afford for that to happen again. I mean literally can’t afford for it to happen again. My firm’s future depends on it.”
I had to be a special kind of stupid, because his explanation softened my resolve. Cal must have seen it in my expression, because he leaned forward and said, “I need your help, Deena. I could lose my business. You, of all people, know what that would do to me.”
Oh, damn him. Damn him for knowing exactly what to say despite barely knowing me. Damn him for using that soft voice and making me feel like he was sharing a secret with me. In a desperate attempt to save my crumbling defenses, my gaze slid away from his as I set my jaw.
“Deena,” he murmured. “Name your price. I mean it. Name the hours you want to work. Name any condition that you want written into the contract. I need you.”
All my debts could go away. If I worked for him, we’d draw professional boundaries. This silly infatuation would surely run its course.
God, I was such an idiot. But I still looked at him and asked, “Six months?”
A flicker of triumph went through his eyes. “Six months.”
One last gasp of logic pushed the only correct answer from my lips: “No.”
He laughed, bright and honest, and my own lips curled inresponse. It was impossible not to lean toward him, to soak up some of the magic of his attention.
I was a fool, but when he looked at me with warm eyes still full of laughter, I didn’t care. A smile bloomed over my lips, and Cal watched it, his eyes darkening with desire. He lifted a brow. “If you won’t work for me, then there’s no reason not to kiss me again.”
Desire slammed into my gut, and I hid it with a disbelieving laugh. “I can think of a few reasons, actually.”
