Page 25 of Bossy Wicked Prince

She crosses her arms defensively over her chest. “I don’t know, Nate. Isn’t it awfully convenient that you’re hiring someonerightwhen I need the money?”

“Are you suggesting I’m making up the job?” I raise my brows. “You really think I’m that generous?”

“I don’t know! It’s just…the timing is just too perfect, isn’t it? And your offices are in the same building where I already work. My luck just doesn’t work that way, Nate.”

I shrug. “Maybe this time it does. I’m not offering out of pity, Cat. This works out for me, too. My last assistant, Raven, complained constantly and overstepped her boundaries. Not things I think you’d do.”

Her lips tilt into a small smile. “Well, I don’t think you’d make up an assistant namedRaven.”

I can still see the indecision in her eyes as she weighs her pride against her desperation. Most people would just take the job, not even worrying if it was offered out of pity. Cat’s stronger than that. She wants to deserve whatever she gets.

I can’t help but respect that.

Finally, she sighs. “When do you want me to start?”

My chest swells with victory. I’m pleased she accepted—a little too damn pleased, if I’m honest.

“Tomorrow’s Monday. You can come into the office in the morning, so HR can get you set up and start your training.”

She nods. “Sounds good. I should get going—I’m running behind as it is. I’ll see you later.”

When she turns around, my eyes drop automatically to the way her jeans hug her ass, and I ask myself for the hundredth time what thefuckis wrong with me.

If I hadn’t offered her the job, Cat would be out of my life in days. I just can’t stop myself from offering to help her. Because yes, she deserves someone looking out for her—but that doesn’t mean I’m the man for the job.

Fuck. Having her in my office, close to me, is going to be harder than I bargained for.

8

CAT

“Cheers to finally getting you to go out!” Pippa cheers, raising her espresso martini.

I clink my glass of rosé against hers. “And cheers to you for dragging me kicking and screaming, looking perfectly elegant the whole time.”

She grins and does a little twirl for me, managing not to trip over her sky-high stilettos. She looks sharp as always, with her signature red lipstick and winged eyeliner. “I do my best. Now, tell me this isn’t more fun than sitting around watching rom-coms in your living room.”

I glare. “Hey. Don’t knock my Paul Rudd and Piña Coladas parties. You know they’re top-tier.”

“True. But it’s nice to see you in something other than work clothes and pajama pants.”

Pippa insisted on taking me out to celebrate the new job. I swapped a shift with Sandy so we could spend Thursday night at Velvet & Vice. Pippa loaned me one of her dresses, a pale gold and bronze frock that’s a micro-mini on her. On me, it’s practically knee-length. At least it’s nice enough that I blend in with the glamorous party-goers.

I’ve never actually been inside the nightclub under the restaurant, but it’s gorgeous. Red and fuchsia lights reflect off the mirrored bar and modern bronze light fixtures. A stunning DJ with waist-length microbraids plays sultry music in front of a large dance floor. Elevated dark booths line the back wall, giving VIPs a place to drink champagne and watch the dancers writhing below. Since Pippa and I aren’t exactly ballers, we settled for sipping our drinks at a high-top table.

Pippa brushes her dark hair behind her ears. “So. How is it working for Grouchzilla?”

“Fine so far. I started training on Monday, and it’s pretty easy. Manage his calendar, put together his travel itineraries, make sure that moth monster he hates stays underground.”

Pippa snorts. “Come on, though. Serious answer, Cat.”

“I’ve got two more days of training. It’s mostly sitting in a back office finishing a computer course. HR put together this whole program to get new assistants up to speed, since Nate apparently goes through them like candy bars.”

She wrinkles her nose. “What does he do to them, stick forks in their eyeballs?”

“Don’t worry. The HR lady promised me, spoons only.”

“If you keep deflecting, you’re going to make me think you’ve got Stockholm Syndrome. Is he treating you okay, Cat?”