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The Personal Assistant

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Chapter 2

SUMMER

It takes a lot to make me feel small.

But looking at this enormous skyscraper in front of me, I can’t help but feel just that: Small. The buzzing noise of people chatting, of them bumping into me left and right, while others seemingly talk to themselves through those misleading earpieces, it’s all a lot.

The glass facade of the gigantic building makes it look cold, just like I imagined it would be. The only reason I’m here is that the job would pay ridiculously well.

Taking one last deep breath I step out of my Mustang and into the building, striding toward the reception desk with purpose. I learned you have to act like you mean something, if you actually want to do so.

“Hi, I have a meeting with Mr. Larson?” I ask, shooting the kind-looking receptionist a smile.

“Oh, yes, that’ll be on the fifteenth floor. There might be others there, already. And steer clear of Allison,” she winks, pointing to the elevator at the other end of the hall.

“Thanks!”

I get into the elevator and press the button with the number fifteen on it, and as soon as I exit the lift a woman stops in my sight. She furrows her brows and studies me up and down, taking in the black pencil skirt and grey blouse I picked to wear today like I was some sort of work she had to rank.

“You here for the interview?” she asks, chewing her gum in the most annoying fashion I have ever witnessed.

“Yes, I’m here for Mr. Larson,” I answer, suddenly getting the feeling that this is the certain Allison I was supposed to stay clear of.

She nods her head, her large breasts almost falling out of the tight top she’s wearing when she leans over and points to the office around the corner. “That’s the conference room. Mr. Larson will see you there.”

After shooting me one last disapproving glance she hurries off, her heels echoing in the space around us. God. This does not seem like the workplace I dreamed of.

I take a seat next to about half a dozen other people right next to the door, trying to ignore the stares by scrolling through my phone. I know that I stand out here - my tattoos raise attention anywhere I go, especially when it’s in a setting as professional as this one.

Fifteen minutes and countless rude glances at both my tattoos and my breasts later, the goddamn door finally opens, and all of our heads instantly shoot up, waiting to be the next one to get called in.

A woman shoots out of the room, arms crossed in front of her chest when she huffs and stalks past all of us. From the corner of my eye I see someone stepping out of the room, but when I look at the man I can’t help but gasp, masking the sound by covering my lips with my hand.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

A sly grin crosses his face when he notices me, and I can’t help but take him in, shamelessly studying him up and down.

Damn. He looks dangerously handsome in the black suit he’s wearing, and the way he loosens his tie when he meets my gaze, mischief sparkling in his eyes, should definitely be illegal. How can he look even hotter than last night?!

He avoids his gaze to scan the other people in the seating area before he looks at the manila folder in his hand, that sly grin turning into a very bright one when he closes it again and rolls it up, pointing it right at me as he says, “You. You’re up next.”

My eyes widen and I look around, immediately noticing the annoyed glances of my competitors.

Perfect. First, I apply for a job to assist the one man I not only insulted but also dry humped yesterday, and then he plays favors. I can already tell that this will just be one of those days.

I look at the man for a second, gauging his reaction, trying to come up with a smart way to play this. But I guess there’s only one solution: Play his game.

“With pleasure,” I say and get up from my chair, swinging my messenger bag over my shoulder before I walk straight past him and into the room, feeling his eyes burn into my ass when the door closes behind him.

I take a seat on the chair that’s already pulled out, probably from the woman who rushed out of here before, and within a matter of seconds the guy takes a seat in front of me, holding that smug ass grin on his face like he invented it.

“Good morning,” he says casually, opening a black notepad and spinning the company pen around his fingers when he looks straight at me, obviously waiting for a greeting.

“Good morning.”

“What’s your name?”

I raise my eyebrow at his question; Is this guy just rude or just fucking with me?

“It should be in one of those files,” I say, nodding to the stack of manila folders next to him, right beside his name plate, announcing that this is in fact the man I want to work for. Damon Larson God, Summer. Calm your tits, you need the job.

Mr. Larson just grins though, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he leans back on the chair, not saying anything, just waiting for me to answer.

God, how much I would like to just play that game and watch him fail. But I need the money. Swallow your feministic stubbornness and just answer the man, for fuck’s sake...

“Summer Hades.”

“See, Miss Hades,” he says, suddenly sitting up and sliding out of his suit jacket before throwing it into the corner of the room, “That wasn’t too hard now, was it?”

He rolls up his sleeves, revealing his tattooed and muscular arms before he leans back, that smug grin on his face when he studies me up and down.

“Okay,” I feel the need to clear the air, “I’ll apologize for yesterday,”

“You do?” he interrupts me with a wide grin, and I suppress the urge to roll my eyes when I speak again, “Yes, I do. But I only apologize for saying the things, not for thinking them. Because you did behave like an asshole. Maybe if you thought about what people around you were feeling, instead of getting pissed off from something that really isn’t worth mentioning, you might find life is actually a little easier.”

I have to stifle my own grin when I see his wide eyes, but then he blinks a few times before he asks, “And what about the kiss?”

Damn, he’s really not wasting any time, is he?

And I can’t even stop the blush from creeping into my cheeks, which just annoys me even more. I don’t blush. Ugh. “That was a good kiss,” I admit.

“Just good?” He narrows his eyes, cocking his head while studying me again.

I can’t help but sigh, knowing this man needs straight answers if I want this to work, somehow. “No, the kiss was mind-blowing... But,” I add when that smug grin is back on his face, “But that doesn’t mean that we will repeat that. If you are serious about hiring me as your personal assistant, then we need to talk about boundaries. Because as much I need this job, I won’t be one of the little playthings you may have around the office here.”

My words must have had some truth in them, his eyes shortly widening at the mention of the playthings in this office. I can only imagine Allison is one of them.

“Are you experienced as a P.A.?” he asks, and I can’t deny that I’m surprised by the sudden mood change.

“No. I’ve run my own tattoo studio and worked as a managing waitress, which means I know how to organize and manage my day and others’.”

“So you would be comfortable managing not only my business but also personal matters for me?”

“Absolutely,” I answer with a nod.

He regards me for another minute while leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. I don’t know what it is, but there’s this curiosity in his eyes when he just sits there. It makes me nervous, like he wants to know things I am not ready to tell him.

“What happened to your tattoo parlour?” he asks.

Oh yeah, okay. I must be psychic or something.

“That’s a long story that does not need to be discussed within the scope of this interview.”

“And what if I say it does?” He leans even closer now, his eyes diving so deep into me that I feel he’s about ready to undress my soul.

“Then I would say that I can’t see the importance of my story in this matter,” I lean forward, our faces only inches apart now, and I see the way his eyes flick to my lips, how he takes a deep breath to inhale my perfume. “I would also say that I would tell you about it if it meant I’d get this job, even if I haven’t told anyone the full story yet. That should tell you how important this is to me, Mr. Larson...”

I suddenly feel the need to get out of here, but more importantly, to get away from him. And so I get up, push the chair back in place before I look at him again. “Call me if you have any more questions that do not invade my personal space. I’m sure my phone number is in that file. Now that you know my name, you should manage to find it on your own, right?”

“Summer...” he follows me to the door, but I already open it, looking right back at him with a smile.

“Goodbye, Mr. Larson.”

And then I close the door behind me.


“Fucking hell, that’s just my luck...” I mumble, taking a sip of the coffee Jess handed to me as soon as I stepped foot inside the apartment about an hour ago.

“I mean, it’s not that bad, is it? If he thinks you’re hot, you might at least get the job. Use this sexist society to your advantage, woman!” Jess shrugs while taking a seat next to me on the couch.

But I shake my head, heaving a sigh when I answer, “Jess, you know that’s not who I am. If I do that, then I’m no better than all those women out there who take each other down. I won’t be reduced to my looks, you should know that.”

“Says the woman who dry humped the man yesterday because he looks like a God...”

“Oh, shut up,” I laugh, “You’re telling me you wouldn’t have said yes to that? Because damn, you need to teach me a thing or two if that’s the case.”

“Ah, we both know I’m hopeless,” she replies as she gets up from the couch, probably getting ready for her own work day now.

“I believe in you!” I call after her, eliciting a laugh that echoes through the whole apartment.

My phone suddenly vibrates in my pocket, and I can’t help but widen my eyes when I read the text on my display.

“Meet me at Gambino’s at seven. D. Larson”

What the actual fuck...

“JESS!” I scream, and she immediately comes running into the living room, only wearing jeans and a sports bra.

“What is it? Did you forget the pizza again? Do I need to get the fire extinguisher?”

I look up at her with wide eyes and she instantly realizes that this is something else, something far less funny. “He wants to meet me.”

“The boss?”

“Yeah, the boss.”

“Well,” she grins, “Let’s get you dressed up then.”


The nerves are taking over as soon as I arrive at the restaurant, a valet stands at the entrance and shoots me a fake smile, studying me up and down as if he needed to see if I looked the part.

I’m glad Jess actually makes an effort in buying expensive clothes, unlike me. Maybe I should start listening to her when it concerns fashion, the black dress I’m wearing really doesn’t look too bad on me, even though I do feel just a tad uncomfortable.

“One scratch on it and I’ll kill you,” I tell the valet when I hand him my car keys, and not a second later a chuckle erupts behind me, making me turn around in an instant.

“That thing must be important to you,” Damon, or Mr. Larson, whatever I’m supposed to call him, speaks up.

It takes me a second to adjust to this situation, and I can’t deny that once again he looks dangerously sexy again, wearing the suit he wore earlier today, hands hidden in his pants pockets when he smirks at me.

“The importance of that car is indescribable,” I somehow manage to say, ignoring the heat between my legs. He shoots me another glance, taking in my appearance in a split second before the heat creeps into his eyes.

“I see,” he responds, taking a step toward me before offering his hand. “Shall we?”

My brain works on its own now, placing my own hand in his, and I can’t help but blush when he presses a kiss on the back of it. He tugs it into his elbow and leads me inside, aiming straight for the waitress who then shows us to our table.

She looks classy, but I don’t miss the looks she shoots Damon, practically undressing him with her eyes. What irritates me even more is that he actually plays the game, too. He shoots her a wink when he pulls out my chair, and I have to admit I feel so disrespected that I almost just up and leave again.

It’s the job, not the man, Summer. It’s the job, not the man...

“Something the matter?” he asks.

I’ve been told you can read my face like an open book, which is why I’m not surprised by his question. He must have seen my irritation.

“No. Except, why are we here again?” I ask, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

Damon just smirks, tapping his fingers on the table as he speaks, “I have a proposition for you.”

“You mean about the job I applied for?”

“In a way, yes.” He keeps on tapping the goddamn table, only looking away from me when the waitress hands us the menus, his eyes firmly planted on her boobs until she turns away.

Good Lord...

“In a way?” I ask, the irritation now more than audible in my voice. He seems to notice, too, because that smirk is even wider on his face now.

“You really don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

“I don’t like playing games. That’s all,” I respond, interlacing my fingers while my elbows rest on the table.

He leans in closer to me, his hands covering my own and pulling them down to the middle of the table. That simple touch almost makes me jump, it’s like someone suddenly zapped me.

Damon doesn’t help either when he leans forward, his sharp-as-knives jawline now only inches away from me when his fingers travel up my arm, leaving sparks with every touch. He knows the reaction he has on me, I can see it in the complacent look on his face when I press my legs together, trying to contain the heat.

“Well, the business I lead sometimes requires playing games. Are you not up for that?” His words come out as a whisper, his breath fanning my neck while my skin breaks out in goosebumps, the feeling of his fingertips on my arm has me on high-alert right now.

I swallow before answering, “I’m up for that. As long as it’s a business matter.”

“Miss Hades... Who says this game we’re playing right now is not about business?” he asks, his fingers now capturing my chin, but the movement has me pulling back, the tension becoming almost unbearable.

“Well,” I clear my throat, “Tell me about this game you so desperately want to play and I will think about it.”

He leans back, his eyes filling with mischief and heat as he studies me, that smirk turning into a crooked one when he hooks his finger in a come-closer-motion. I only roll my eyes before following his command, meeting him in the middle of the table when he whispers.

“I want to fuck you.”

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