His smile wavers. “This is why you’re the assistant for me. I’m scared to let anyone in, but you’re already more in than anyone else. So as creepy as it sounds, I need you.”
I sit back and lean my chin on my fist. “That was a convincing pitch, but before you get carried away, I need to share the conditions I gave to your sister.” He squeezes his lips like he’s trying not to grin. “I don’t travel with you, I get weekends off, and I work eight to five, with no evening work or calls, unless it’s an emergency. I need my evenings free.” I gulp the last of my coffee.
He cocks an eyebrow. “Okay.” Maybe desperation stops him from asking questions, although they’ll come eventually. “Here are my conditions. I’ll pay you double what my sister offered.” I nearly choke. “Once you’ve passed probation, you can have time each week to work on your master’s in sports psychology, if you want to. We’ll pay for your master’s.”
“These don’t sound like conditions.”
“I haven’t finished. I want a dog, and although I’ll have someone to take care of it, I might need you to be aware if anything happens.” I nod. Tabi will be giddy. “I have a counsellor, and I want to hire a nutritionist and trainer, but I need someone to tie all of this together and manage my team for me, while also ensuring they don’t push me beyond the limits of my health anxiety. I don’t want anyone here, including my sister and best friend?—”
“The guy with the Lambo toy?”
“Yes, Connor. I don’t want them to find out about my health anxiety or anything I told you before or today. I’ll talk to them eventually, but they’ll try to fix me if I do it now. I don’t need that. I need someone on my side to protect my secrets and my health. I don’t expect you to be a superhero.”
“Are you sure?” I tease. If I can encourage him to relax a little, it will help.
He shrugs and tips his chin. “I just need you to be you. I need you. What do you say?”
“I need you to stop saying ‘I need you.’”
He blushes and, fuck me, if it’s not the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.
“I’ll take the job.” He gives a little cheer, but I continue even though I want to revel in his joy. “But you’ll need to be honest with me about how you feel. If you’re too grumpy, anxious, or uncomfortable, then you need to tell me why rather than hide it from me, or it will come out in other ways.”
He grins in a way that makes me want to kiss him. I cannot kiss my damn boss.
I push forward. “And we’ll find ways to make you happy, whatever it takes, although I won’t be the kind of assistant who buys presents for your girlfriends or wives.”
“I didn’t have either when we met in Greece, and I don’t have either now.”
I didn’t need to make that comment, and he didn’t need to respond, but I’m glad he’s single. I already hate imagining him kissing someone else like he did me, although Niki in a relationship would be healthier for our working relationship.
I can’t kiss, date, or have fantasies about my boss, especially not while gripping my vibrator tonight.
CHAPTER 13
Niki
She said yes. The beautiful woman with the full lips and eyes like a Disney princess is my new assistant, and it’s the best thing.
But it’s also the worst thing because her laugh is musical, like water sprinkled on metal, and she’s kind but also funny.
“Before I fix your car, can I check if it’s something you would do yourself? I don’t want to be in the way,” I say.
“I wish I could, but no. It’s not one of my skills.”
“And do I need to worry about your partner shouting at me because I fixed it, even though it’s the least they should be doing?”
“I didn’t have one when we met in Greece, and I don’t have one now,” she says, repeating what I said, “although I once had a man who shouted, ‘Get your fucking hands off my wife.’”
My laugh bursts free.
I can’t flirt with her. I don’t know how to anymore.
But I whisper in a way that makes her lean slightly closer, but not enough to invade my space, which means more than she’ll ever understand, “And for info, I like to purchase myown pants, because then I buy ones with statements on them that would make others judge.” I refer to her earlier comment about how my pants probably sayMad Sexlike my sliders embarrassingly did.
She stares at me, her right brow practically in her hairline as I add, “My current pants say, ‘Spank My Monkey.’”
She laughs so loud people stare, and I don’t care. I smirk and give her a wink that makes her cheeks pink.
