Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 14693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 73(@200wpm)___ 59(@250wpm)___ 49(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 73(@200wpm)___ 59(@250wpm)___ 49(@300wpm)
Once I pull into the large parking garage and into a spot close to the door, I turn off the engine and take out my notes. It’s studying time, something I truly despise. Hell, it’s why I’m in this mess in the first place. My lovely sister is doing me a huge favor, taking my math final for me.
Reading the two pages over and over and sipping my coffee, I learn what my sister does for a living. She works hard as hell for this prick. He needs another assistant instead of using my sister to the bone.
I finish my coffee and decide it’s time to go in. I’m beyond annoyed with this guy before I’ve even met him. I brush down my skirt, adjust my top, and slip on the suit jacket. God, I feel confined in it. I stretch out my back, hoping to loosen up the fabric.
Remember, it’s only one day. One day and I can go back to my life and never wear anything like this again.
I walk through the building and into the lobby. “Good Morning, Ms. Mathers. You better hurry. Mr. King has already arrived,” the desk guard says.
“Shit.” She always arrives before he does. Of all the days, he comes early. I dash to the elevators as quick as I can in these heels, falling against the wall the second I turn the corner and out of sight of the front desk. Using the wall like a drunk, I lean all the way to the elevator. I’m so glad no one else is around to catch me looking crazy.
None of the elevators are on the first floor, and it seems to take forever for them to come. As the ding of the elevator hits, three men walk up in suits. I do my best not to roll my eyes, thinking how much of a lazy person I am. Maybe I’m the one who’s too laid back. All of these men look nice and seem happy to be here.
“Good morning, Ms. Mathers,” they say in unison, stepping in alongside me.
“Morning,” I grumble. Shit, my sister would be sweet and bubbly.
“Are you well?” one of them asks me. I look up at him and think he’s handsome for a nerd. Maybe my sister would like him.
“Yes, I am.” They reach around me and hit the buttons to their floor, hitting the top floor for me. “Sorry, I guess I’m a little preoccupied this morning.”
I don’t want to make small talk with any of them because I know absolutely nothing about these people. My sister will kill me if I mess this up for her.
One by one, they get off on different floors, each giving me a wave goodbye. When I finally get to the executive suite, I sigh heavily and step out into the hallway. It’s just the boss and me up here, making it more intimidating. The glass doors appear so daunting that I’m not sure I can do this. Taking a deep breath, I pull open the door and stare right at Alyssa’s boss.
This can’t be Oliver King. Shit. He’s fine as hell.
I freeze because my brain stops functioning completely. Alyssa’s boss stands six foot two or taller, broad chest, wide shoulders, and lips that promise wicked things. How the hell did she forget to tell me he’s fucking gorgeous? Our eyes meet, and for some reason, I think he’s onto me. A frown forms on his face, and I know I must be doing something wrong already.
Chapter 2
Oliver
I show up at the office late because there was an accident on the expressway, which pisses me off. After all, I’m already scheduled to fly out to London at two today, leaving little time to get some work in. Fortunately, I can depend on my assistant to be in the office, preparing all the last minute details.
I step off the elevator and grab the handle of the see-through glass doors and pull, nearly breaking the glass. They’re still locked. “What the fuck?” I snarl.
Today’s going to shit from the start. I bring out my keys and slide it into the lock and twist. As soon as I get in, I flip the lights on and look over to my assistant’s desk. She’s not here yet. Maybe she got caught in the accident as well.
The elevator dings a moment later, and I watch her get off and walk to the door. She reaches for it, and my heart slams out of my chest.
That’s not my assistant.
She looks a lot like her; in fact, to the untrained eye, they are completely identical, but I could see the slight difference in her walk and in her mouth. Most of all, I can tell that she’s mine.
That’s all I’ve ever noticed about Ms. Mathers. Those features are related to the job. After all, she spent the morning running through my schedule and going over changes. I’ve learned never to give any of my former assistants any attention early on. They came onto me, and I’d have to fire them. I’ve only wanted them to do their jobs, nothing more. Alyssa Mathers never gave me that uncomfortable feeling. She has always been the picture of professionalism.