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She looks like she wants to say more, but keeps her mouth shut, leading the way out of the elevator as we reach the sixtieth floor.
She stops at her area and I continue to my office, hesitating for a moment at the sight of the massive desk, then sit and open my folder with notes for my meeting to review.
Ten hours later, I pull at the tie at my neck, unbuttoning the top button of my dress shirt as I sign the last of the documents Emma brought earlier that needed my approval. My eyes are scratchy, vision blurring slightly as I stare at the page, and have to blink several times for it to come back in focus.
“You’re running yourself ragged.”
I glance up, finding Emma standing in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest.
“I thought you went home.” I clear my throat, my voice hoarse from talking too much today. “You were supposed to leave at five.”
She gives me a half-smile. “You’re still here.”
Touché.
“I watched your interview from my computer,” she says, coming over to sit at the chair in front of my desk. “They had it out for you, didn’t they?”
I rub at the back of my neck, then pull the tie looser when it feels like I can’t breathe. “It comes with the territory.” And not only the interview, but the board meeting too. They’d wanted financials from five, ten years ago that I obviously don’t know off the top of my head.
She seems to study me, and I look away, not wanting to hear whatever she’s bound to say. “I know it’s not my place, but have you been sleeping?”
I blink at her. Sleeping? Who has time to sleep? I’m in a constant game of catch-up, learning everything on the fly. I spent last night forcing myself to stay awake as I poured over market trends, eventually passing out before I meant to, and still ended up waking too early.
“You have these dark circles under your eyes,” she explains gently. “And I’m just worried—”
“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.”
Her head tilts. “Are you?”
I cap the pen in my hand, tossing it on the desk. “It’s been a rough week,” I admit.
“Anything I can help with?”
Her? Now that’s complicated. Despite being drawn to her, she’s a distraction I don’t need. “Can you put more hours in the day?” I joke, unable to answer her seriously.
“Connor,” she says in that low voice, a rush of longing running through me. I close my eyes, not that it blocks out the sound. If anything, it only intensifies it. “I’m your assistant. Let me… assist you.”
I grip my hands together tightly underneath my desk, logically knowing she wasn’t making insinuations with that statement. But that doesn’t change how my dick heard it.
“I can listen if you just want to talk.” She shrugs, her curls falling forward over her right shoulder. “Sometimes it helps to vent.”
That sounds like something I would’ve said to Archer previously. It’s always been like pulling teeth trying to get him to open up, and I never understood why.
But I’ve never had this kind of pressure on me before. And this time, I have no one to share the load. I’m solely responsible for this company.
“This pace… it’s too hectic,” I admit. “I’ve got too much to do and not enough room to breathe.” I pull again at my tie as it seems to constrict around my neck.
She nods understandingly. “It’s hard to learn how to do a job when there’s no one to teach you. You didn’t get to shadow your dad at all.”
That describes it perfectly. “Yeah, and I’m expected to know everything he did—”
I stop, realizing maybe I shouldn’t be saying this to her. Yes, she signed an NDA, but she’s still an outsider. The only people I can truly talk to are my brothers, but I won’t make them deal with company issues if they’re not reaping any of the benefits.
That reminds me, I need to hire that maid for Gabriel.
“I’m your boss, Emma. I’m not going to bother you with my problems.”
She nibbles at her bottom lip. “It’s not a bother. Really. I know what it’s like not to have anyone to talk to when things are rough.”