Her little arms wrap around my neck, “Don’t go, Mama.”
My heart breaks. If there was one perk when I was still with Vigo, it was that I could be there for her all the time.
I’ve used up my inheritance, supporting her without alimony, and now there’s no choice. I have to work. “Don’t worry, M&M, you’re going to love this school.”
“Let me show you your cubby, Emma, and then we can join the morning circle,” Miss Clemons takes Emma’s hand, gently removing her arm from around me.
My daughter’s lip juts out, but she goes with Miss Clemons after one backward glance. I sigh with relief and turn, glad I won’t be late for my very first day with Mr. Smith. I hurry up theelevators, using my special key to access the floor with the Smith offices.
The doors slide open, and a very polished looking redhead stands on the other side of the door. She sticks out her hand, her gaze assessing me. “No wonder he picked you,” she says as she winks. “You’re gorgeous.”
“Right back at you.” I take her hand. “I’m Gigi.”
“Rachel. I’m the New York assistant to the other Smith brothers. A floater…” She waves her hand. Then she leans closer. “I fill in with Mr. Smith when he’s between assistants, but I prefer not to work for Big Bad Bossman too often.”
Big Bad Bossman…great. “I’m afraid to ask.”
“I’d tell you, but you’ll understand by the end of the day. Come. First order of business, learning how he likes his coffee. It’s an easy one, since he drinks it black. But there are specific brewing instructions.”
I give a tight nod, already dreading the day.
It turns out, the brewing instructions are the least of it.
Just like yesterday, Rushton Smith arrives in the office on the phone and irritated. He’s no less handsome, his dark eyes sweeping over the room like he’s taking in every minute detail, even as he speaks into his phone.
If what’s he’s doing can even be considered something as civilized as speaking. It’s more like he’s barking orders as he passes by me and Rachel. His bag is slammed on my desk, as he storms into his office without a word.
“Follow with the coffee,” Rachel hisses in my ear. “He doesn’t like to sit until it’s on his desk.”
I turn, frantically following, moving as quickly as I can without spilling the very full, scalding hot beverage.
I make it into his office, and barely have time to admire the stunning view of the New York skyline, as I slide the cup onto his desk.
He’s still yelling orders into his phone, scowling as he does.
Coffee in place, I breathe a sigh of relief before I turn, hoping to exit as quickly as possible.
“Miss Hope,” he says, pulling the receiver from his ear. “Come back in five minutes.”
“Of course, Mr. Smith,” I breathe, trying to decide if I should curtsy. Which is stupid. He’s not royalty. Or is he? I think I heard that his brother is an actual duke in England and that he’s related to the king.
I settle for dipping my chin, turning quickly, as I leave his office and then proceed to hover outside his door.
I hear him barking into the phone, and I listen intently. I’m not eavesdropping as much as I’m just trying to learn about the contracts he’s working on and where he might need assistance. I feel like I’ve just been dropped in the middle of a war zone.
He hangs up the phone, and then sharply calls out, “Ms. Hope.”
I jump and then scurry back into his office. “Mr. Smith.”
He eyes me again, his assessing gaze making me shrink a little. He starts at my feet, encased in the heels I scrounged from a thrift shop, and moves up to the pencil skirt from the same store.
I’ve got a decent eye, and both pieces are from designer labels. I bought some new blouses thinking they’d help me look fresher and professional.
His eyes move up my neck and stop at my hair. I resist the urge to finger the shoulder-length bob. It still feels strange.
“You’d look better as a brunette.”
I blink a few times, my lips parting. “All right.” I don’t exactly want to argue, even if his comment is heavy handed, and I definitely don’t want to explain my choice of hair color.
