Page 9 of Hating the Boss

Fred’s head seemed to ping-pong between us, as if trying to get in on some inside joke he missed. Ignoring him, I played along.

“Looks like a waste of a good cup of coffee…” I mused, thinking about how I never did get another cappuccino.

“More like a waste of a good dress,” she muttered under her breath.

“I don’t know if I can have a personal assistant who is clumsy…” I said.

She opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it when she eyed Fred.

“But I’ll give you a chance anyway,” I said.

“Wh-what?” said Sarah and Fred in unison, wide-eyed as they looked at me.

“Brad. Er, Mr. Ashcroft,” said Fred nervously. “We haven’t seen all the applicants yet…”

“I’ve seen enough,” I said assuredly.

“B-but…”

I put my hand up, which made him stop stammering like a fool.

“Fred. I’ve made my decision. It is my personal assistant, after all,” I reminded him.

Sarah sat there awkwardly, her hands twisted in her lap. She looked unsure. Of herself or taking the job, I couldn’t tell. Fred wasn’t making it any better by insinuating there were other people for the job.

Maybe there were, but I wanted her.

“If you want the job, of course,” I said, giving her a reassuring look from across the table.

She hesitated for a moment. Not wanting her to change her mind, I figured I would sweeten the pot a bit.

“I assure you the benefits are the best you’ll find.”

“That’s true.” Fred nodded, still seemingly unsure of my decision.

Sarah looked between Fred and me as we ping-ponged off each other.

“And the starting salary is one million dollars,” I added.

If Fred’s jaw had dropped before, it was now on the floor of the conference room.

Chapter 5 Sarah

“You’re serious?” I asked, the words spilling out of my mouth before I could stop them.

One million dollars.

The words replayed in my head like a scratched record, but I couldn’t get used to them. That amount was exorbitant. I had never seen money like that, nor had the opportunity to have it myself. Now this man, Brad Ashcroft, was offering it to me. And so nonchalantly too, like it was nothing to him. As CEO of this company and owner of this building, it probably was nothing to him.

I wasn’t the only one surprised. Mr. Parsons sat next to me, bug-eyed and slack-jawed. I swore his mustache twitched as he stared at Brad. He made it clear that this was not the norm for an assistant’s salary. I wasn’t an idiot either. I knew assistants didn’t make that amount of money.

So why was he offering it to me?

“I’m very serious, Ms. Atkinson,” said Brad, a smirk playing at his lips. I tried to ignore the distraction and that damn left dimple.

He was being awfully charming now. A far cry from the man I had run into at the elevators, drenching us both in coffee. At least he got to change. And had he been flirting with me when he teased me about being clumsy? I felt like I was getting whiplash from this man, and I had only known him for maybe ten minutes.

And now, here he was offering me a job without hardly knowing anything about me other than I worked at Brandfield Enterprises and was single. I wondered if that question had been part of the interview process, or his own personal curiosity.