Page 59 of Bulletproof

And he took direction like he never did and sipped his soup while he gave me instructions.

“You have to look like you belong there when you come to the office tomorrow.”

Meaning I had to look pretty. “I know.”

“Are you going to put an ad in the paper?”

“No, I’m gonna call around first and see who knows somebody. And you don’t need two assistants. You need one, plus a typist that your assistant will manage.”

“I fired my typist last week.”

“For crissakes, Dane.”

“She said she needed more.”

“More what?”

“More from me. She said that she could make me happy.”

“Uh-huh.” I nodded. “So, what she really needed were some good antipsychotic drugs and therapy.”

“Indeed.”

“Huh.”

He cleared his throat.

“It’s because you’re so alluring.”

He rolled his eyes. “My wife needs to know I have good people around me, not people who want to take her place in my life.”

“You’ve always insisted on not letting me hire someone. I mean, you let me weed through applications with you, but you never let me sit in when you hired someone.”

“Well, now I’m going to try to let you find the right person.”

“Alert the media; he agrees with me.”

The eye rolling was not lost on me.

“In the meantime, I’ll come home with you tonight and tell Aja I’m gonna be there until you find someone.”

His smile was the one hardly anyone but me and Aja and a few close friends ever saw. It was the real Dane—stripped down, vulnerable, with the soft eyes and the curl of his lip that made your stomach twist with the trust of seeing it.

“Don’t worry.”

“I’m not anymore. My only unease is over you.”

“Why?”

“Let’s talk about Cristo Liron.”

I couldn’t even say it didn’t concern him because I had basically made it his business with my earlier confession.

I didn’t get home until after nine, having put in the rest of my day with Dane, sorting through files and appointments to get a handle on his office again. They had moved the copy room for whatever reason, which was fine, walking was good for me, but the main issue was figuring out his schedule, which made no sense, as well as the myriad of tasks that went into being his assistant. I’d sent him home before me, bowing out of dinner with him and Aja, letting him give her the news that I was stepping in, for the interim, as his assistant.

As I walked toward my apartment, I saw the Rolls-Royce Phantom from the previous evening. Alaric was inside the car, and when I waved, he lifted his hand from the steering wheel as Hayes Fisher got out.

“Hi,” I greeted him.