Page 10 of His Assistant

“It was a good catch,” he tells me quietly. “But in the future, you should be more careful about who you embarrass in this building. Type up the notes and send them out in the next hour.”

I nod and follow him back to his office, where I immediately sit down at my desk and type up the meeting notes. So, not fired. A little reprimanded, but I’ve definitely been through worse. If anything, I’m glad that he backed me up.

“You’re in a toxic workplace,” my best friend Maya tells me later when we meet for dinner.

We usually try to get together at least once a week, but since I started this job, I’ve barely had time to see her. It’s the first time we’ve met up in person since I started, though I’ve texted her every little thing.

“I don’t think it’s toxic,” I say defensively. “I really like the work.”

“For what they’re paying you, you better.” She laughs. “Then again, I don’t know if any amount of money would be enough for me to put up with that level of stress.”

“It’s really not bad,” I laugh. “Sure, there are some bad days, but I like it.”

“You’ve barely been there a month. There shouldn’t be bad days, plural,” she answers, stabbing her chicken with her fork.

“It’s a big company with a lot of strong personalities to manage,” I say. “There’s bound to be a few issues, but I don’t mind it.”

She raises her eyebrow at me. “Is it the work you don’t mind, or your hot-ass boss?”

I roll my eyes and throw a bread roll at her.

4

DOMINIC

Sofia walks into my office clutching the folder for tonight’s event to her chest. I check the clock. Nearly four. The event starts at seven. She looks unusually panicked.

“Elena is on line two,” she tells me. “She says the security vendor for tonight’s event has the wrong guest list.”

I look up from the contract I’ve been going over all afternoon.

“How is it wrong?” I ask, impatient.

“The names are wrong, the arrival times are off, and the floorplan is outdated. And somehow none of it came from a single file. It’s like they’re working off a bunch of different drafts.”

I hold out my hand for the folder she’s clutching. She hands it over and waits while I read. I flip to the vendor approvals and finally catch the problem.

“When did we hire Bastion Event Security?” I ask her.

“We were working with Lumin,” she says, eyes wide. “This is the first I’m hearing of this.”

I hold up a finger and pick up my phone. “Elena,” I say when my event coordinator picks up.

“Mr. Vieri,” she says, her voice sharp with very controlled fury. “I would have never approved Bastion.”

“I know.”

“Lumin says someone from corporate canceled them at noon today, and now Mr. Armand is threatening to move the whole dinner to the Mercer.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” I argue.

“He says he will,” she says in a tight voice.

“We’re on our way,” I tell her. “Keep him calm for now. I’ll handle this.”

Sofia looks at me with wide eyes. “Is this bad?” she asks.

“Bastion Event Security is owned by Kevin Armand’s competition. In other words⁠—”