Page 13 of His Assistant

She turns on her heel and disappears down the block before I have a chance to argue. My phone buzzes again.

“Talk to me,” I say without looking at the caller.

“Enzo Calderone and Kevin Armand were college roommates,” Rafe tells me. “I can’t find any other professional association apart from that.”

I sigh. “Keep looking,” I tell him. “I don’t trust him.”

“Is it because of his association with Calderone or because you think he’s too flirtatious with your assistant?” Rafe asks bluntly.

If he were here, I’d flip him off. Instead, I turn to my building, nod at my doorman, and walk inside.

“Just find the connection,” I tell him. “And stop being a smartass. I’m going to need you at this event tonight.”

When I hang up, frustration courses through me. I still don’t like the idea of Kevin and Sofia working so closely together tonight. I’ll have to keep a close eye on them both. In six weeks, I’ve managed to keep Sofia away from my less than legitimate businesses. Tonight won’t be the exception. Not if I can help it.

5

SOFIA

Iwalk into the hotel ballroom in the sleek black dress I keep in Dominic’s office closet. I bought it for my nana’s funeral a few years back, but it’s perfect for an event like this. A little classy but not flashy, and it helps me fade into the background. I’m an assistant. Nobody expects me to show up in haute couture.

As I ride up the elevator to the ballroom, I smooth the front of it with my hands and try to calm my nerves. This is my first time at an event like this. I don’t want to mess it up.

Elena is waiting when the elevator doors open, and her face lights up the second she sees me.

“Oh, thank God!” she nearly shouts.

“That bad?” I ask. I was only gone for an hour and a half.

“Mr. Armand has pulled Lucille from the guest entry three times to deal with vendor issues. Three guests came in through the wrong hallway because of it and got lost, and some drunk prick tried to sneak in and one of the guards from Bastion nearly tackled him. It’s been a rough half hour.”

I nod and follow her into the private ballroom. Earlier, the tables were still being set under harsh lighting, but now the chandeliers glow low and candles flicker at each table. A few guests mill around talking, and a jazz trio in the corner plays soft music meant to set the mood without overwhelming it.

So far, everything looks good. If all goes well, none of the guests will realize what a clusterfuck the last few hours have been.

Dominic is already there, talking to someone over by the bar. His eyes find me the moment I step into the ballroom, and my stomach flutters when our gazes meet. He looks incredible in his tux, and I try desperately not to notice.

I’m here to work. Nothing more.

I walk over to Lucille, who looks just as happy as Elena to see me. She visibly relaxes and hands me a clipboard.

“I’m going back to check-in,” she says. “These people are driving me nuts!”

For the next half hour, I find out exactly why. Nothing is going right tonight, and nobody is on their A-game. My only solace is that I had almost nothing to do with planning this event. If anything, putting out all these fires makes me look good to Dominic.

Kevin approaches with an unreadable look on his face. “Ms. Bellini,” he calls.

“Mr. Armand,” I answer with my most professional smile. “Is everything all right?”

“That’s what I was coming to ask you,” he says in a tight voice.

I glance toward the ballroom. “Cocktail hour is going great,” I tell him. “Dinner service starts in fifteen minutes, and the kitchen’s ready to plate everyone within ten so no one’s left waiting. Elena’s overseeing it. As far as I can tell, everything’s on track.”

What I don’t tell him is that cocktail hour nearly fell apart when the waiters forgot two of the appetizers and ran out of meatballs in five minutes. Elena’s been wrestling a broken warmer in the kitchen, and three waiters called out sick. All disasters he doesn’t need to be privy to.

“Excellent.” He nods. “You’ve done very well under the last-minute pressure. You’re very young to be so composed.”

I’m not exactly sure how to take that. It sounds like a compliment on the surface, but the deeper I dig, the more it verges on rude. So I just nod and say, “Well, I’d better get back to Elena.”