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I watch her leave, that red dress gently swishing as she closes my office door, her words echoing in my ears. I have to have faith she’s right. That something will give soon. That the pressure will let off.
Otherwise, I fear I may break.
Chapter Seven
Emma
Irearrange the muffins on their platter, making sure each one is equidistant from its neighbor, then double-check the bagels are in place, the danishes are in an aesthetically pleasing array, and the coffee and orange juice urns are ready to go. This is Connor’s first meeting with the other chiefs of the company, and everything has to be perfect.
Admittedly, I had selfish motives speaking to him on Friday after work. I need him to see me as a confidant. Someone he can rely on and eventually trust enough to take my advice about buying Montague Media. But somewhere along the way, he tugged at my heartstrings. I really do want to make things better for him while I’m here. It’s the least I can do after being so… duplicitous.
A chill runs over my skin at the reminder that the whole reason I’m here is to manipulate him. But what else can I do? My home, Dad’s money we rely on, Mom’s healthcare coverage is all at stake.
“I’m the first one here?”
I whirl around, my heart beating overtime at the sensation of being caught, but don’t let on that Connor surprised me as he strolls into the conference room. “Yes.”
He nods at the buffet I’ve laid out. “You’ve got quite a spread going here. You used the company card, right?”
I keep my snort of laughter to myself. There’s no way I could afford all this. I mean, this fruit salad is freaking organic. “Yep. Try a muffin. The blueberry ones are amazing.”
His lips quirk. “So you already sampled some?”
I grin sheepishly. “Quality control. Just doing my duty.” I also bought way more than we need. And if they don’t eat it all, I guess I’ll have to take some home with me.
“I appreciate your sacrifice.”
I give him a mock salute, enjoying how his smile grows a little.
He loads up a plate and takes a seat at the head of the boardroom table as I finish straightening the meeting agendas, surreptitiously watching him. The dark circles present under his eyes last week aren’t as pronounced, his shoulders not as hunched. “You sleep okay over the weekend?”
He pauses before taking a bite of his muffin. “Better,” he mumbles.
“You know, I was thinking that as your assistant, it’s my job to make your life easier.”
“Okay…”
“And you’re still living in that hotel, right?”
He nods, wiping the crumbs off his hands with a napkin.
“So maybe I could hire an interior decorator and redo your apartment upstairs. I’ll take care of everything so you won’t have to deal with it.”
His expression doesn’t change, and I worry for a moment I’ve overstepped my bounds.
“Why?” he finally asks.
I shrug. “I just thought it would help. To have a bigger space. Living in a hotel room has to be cramped.”
“It’s the presidential suite,” he says wryly.
At the Four Seasons? How much must that cost? I keep forgetting who I’m dealing with. “Oh, well. You still might want to have something that’s yours. So you feel more like you… belong here.”
He stares at me, heat creeping over my cheeks as I play back the words in my head. I sound like a total bitch.
“No, I didn’t mean it that way.” I find myself reaching out before I realize what I’m doing, and snatch my hand back. “You said you don’t have enough room to breathe. That it’s been a rough transition for you.” My fingers tangle with the hem of my shirt, knowing I’m bungling this explanation. “I just thought… I’m sorry, forget it.”
I look down, fearing he’ll realize how unfit I am for the job. I should learn to mind my own business, to keep my ideas to myself. Dad sent me here to seduce him, not try to be an actual assistant.