Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Why are you looking at me?
Miles cleared his throat a little. “Is there something on my face, Mr. Caldwell?”
Still staring at him, Caldwell said, “You’re British, correct?”
“Whatever gave me away?” Miles quipped before he could stop himself.
Caldwell’s dark brows went up a little, as if he couldn’t believe that some lowly intern dared to joke with him.
Miles met his gaze unflinchingly. If Caldwell had a problem with it, he was welcome to fire him. Miles actually wouldn’t mind being fired, because then he wouldn’t have to spy on anyone and could tell the Rutledges with a clear conscience that he had tried, but alas, the guy was too much of a prick.
“Do you have any relatives in America?” Caldwell said, not taking the bait. His unnerving gaze remained fixed on Miles.
It was making him feel weird. Self-conscious. On edge.
“As far as I know, no,” Miles replied, shoving his hands into his pockets and trying not to fidget.
Caldwell made a thoughtful sound and finally looked away.
Miles breathed out. He glanced around the room before returning his eyes to Caldwell’s face.
It was a good face, he had to admit. Strong and handsome, the touch of gray in Caldwell’s dark hair adding something distinguished to his looks.
“Do I remind you of someone?” Miles said at last, breaking the silence again.
Caldwell’s gaze snapped back to him. His brows drew together. “You do, actually.”
Miles wondered if it would be rude to ask one’s boss who he reminded him of. He came to the conclusion that it would definitely be rude. He asked the question anyway. “Who?”
Caldwell’s face was blank. “My ex-wife. You could have been her male twin.”
Well, awkward.
Since Miles had no clue how the man felt about his ex-wife, he couldn’t be sure if it was a good thing or not. But considering the fact that she was an ex-wife, it was unlikely that Caldwell got warm and fuzzy feelings when he looked at him.
A grimace crossed Caldwell’s face. “Are you sure you aren’t related? Regina Travers?”
“Very sure. Born and raised in London, my entire family too. It’s actually the first time I’ve traveled overseas in my life.”
Caldwell eyed him in an assessing manner, as if he suspected Miles of lying.
Miles almost laughed. You’re suspecting me of the wrong thing.
Turning serious, he met the other man’s eyes and said, “I swear I’m not in any way related to your ex-wife, Mr. Caldwell. But if my presence bothers you, you should absolutely transfer me away. I’m just an intern.”
A strange emotion flickered in Caldwell’s eyes. “It doesn’t ‘bother’ me,” he said, his voice so cold it made Miles a little uncomfortable. “I couldn’t care less about my ex-wife.”
Right. That’s why you’ve been staring at me since I got here.
But Miles didn’t push. There were things no one liked to talk about, and ugly breakups were one of them.
“Then you still want me as your PA?”
“I still need an assistant, and my secretary assured me you can do the job adequately until my assistant can return to his job.”
Miles nodded. “May I ask about my job responsibilities?”
“You will organize meetings and appointments. You will remind me of them—”
“There are apps I can download on your phone for that.”
The glare he received from Caldwell for interrupting him—and daring to suggest an entirely reasonable, modern solution—would have made anyone squirm. But after decades of being on the receiving end of Zach’s stern looks, Miles was kind of desensitized to bossy personalities. Maybe he should introduce them to each other, he thought, amused.
“Sorry,” he said, giving Caldwell his best innocent look. “Go on!”
“Your job is pretty easy as far as jobs go,” Caldwell said.
Right. That’s why your PA had a nervous breakdown.
“You will book and arrange travel, transport and accommodation. You will manage databases and filing systems. It will be your responsibility to make sure that the suits I keep in my office”—Caldwell motioned toward the door that presumably led to the closet—“are clean and unwrinkled. You will accompany me to meetings and take notes.” Caldwell paused, looking at him, as if daring Miles to say that there were apps that could do that, too.
Miles kept his mouth shut, his lips tightly pursed to stop him from smiling.
“There are hundreds of other small tasks you will have to perform. I have neither the time nor the desire to recite them for you. You job is to make my life easier; that’s all you need to remember. Your job is to follow my orders, as quickly as possible. You will do everything I say, exactly as I say.”
Miles nodded, hoping he looked appropriately serious and earnest.
Judging by Caldwell’s narrow-eyed gaze, he hadn’t entirely managed to hide his mirth.
“Am I amusing to you?” Caldwell said.
“Not at all,” Miles said honestly. “But the situation kind of is.”
Caldwell raised an eyebrow.
Miles was impressed. He could never manage to raise a single eyebrow without looking constipated and ridiculous: he knew it because he had practiced the expression in front of the mirror but ended up laughing at himself every time. People who could do it and make it look effortless must be some kind of freaks.