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At His Service

By´╝ÜDelilah Fawkes


I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose and sighed as I stared at the papers I'd dropped. This was shaping up to be the worst day ever, and it was only my second day on the job. First, I'd lost a contact and had to break out my clunky emergency glasses, then the CEO's assistant called in sick before the biggest stockholder meeting of the year.

Of course, they'd called me in to assist, even though she was only the front desk receptionist.

If all Mr. Drake wants me to do is answer phones, I've got this in the bag. I rolled my eyes, knowing it couldn't possibly be that easy.

I hadn't met Chase Drake yet, billionaire CEO of Drake & Smith, but I'd heard whispered rumors about him over lunch. Words like "terrifying" and "gorgeous" were thrown around, along with talk of all the other executive assistants that quit unexpectedly that year. Apparently, he was impossible to please.

I dropped to my knees, hurriedly gathering the papers outside of the executive offices. This is no way to make a first impression, Isabeau! Get it together or you won't last the week. The last thing I needed was for the head honcho to see me like this.

A black, Italian leather shoe came down an inch from my hand. I froze, still reaching for the spreadsheet now trapped under the large foot in front of me. It was attached to a leg clad in an impeccably cut suit, and as I ran my eyes upward, I tried not to tremble. A man with wavy blonde hair and a cool green gaze stared down at me, his cruel mouth twisted into a smirk.

"Ms. Willcox, I presume?"

I tried to push the chestnut strands of hair that had fallen over my eyes back into my bun, but it was no good. I was a hot mess, kneeling on the carpet in a J.C. Penney blouse and skirt.

"Y-yes?"

He reached down and offered his hand, and my mouth suddenly went very, very dry. I'm talking Sahara Desert dry. Something about the way he looked at me sent shivers down my spine, like he was sizing me up. Like I was a deer, and he was a lion, looking for his next meal.

I put my hand in his, and let him pull me to my feet. My hand felt tiny in his warm grasp, and I felt a jolt of electricity at the touch.

"Chase Drake," he said softly, his low voice making my heart skip a beat. "So, you're the one serving me today?"

Serving him? It felt like an odd way to put it, but hey, who was I to correct the boss?

"I guess so, Sir."

"You guess?"

I realized my hand was still in his, and quickly drew it back. "Ms. Johnson told me you needed an assistant for the meeting?" 

I bit my lip, suddenly uncertain. His piercing eyes were hard to look directly into. I felt like I was being tested, or maybe that I was in the wrong place altogether.

"Keep your chin up, girl. My assistant must be cool, confident and collected, not a timid little mouse."

My mouth dropped open. A mouse? He doesn't even know me! I raised my chin defiantly, straightening up to my full height.

"Yes, Sir."

His lips twitched into a half smile. "Very good."

I nodded, and started walking toward the boardroom, when he grabbed my wrist, making me gasp. He drew me close until we were almost nose to nose.

"Remember that you represent me in there. Clean yourself up before we begin. And Ms. Willcox?"

"Y-yes?"

"Don't let me down."

I tried hard not to tremble, even though he'd pulled me so close. He smelled clean like rainwater, but his hot breath on my face made me avert my eyes. Is this how he always acted? So demanding and confrontational?

"Will do, Boss."

I snatched my wrist away and moved quickly down the hall to the ladies room. I could feel his gaze on my back until the door closed behind me. When it clicked shut, I leaned back against it, and let out a deep breath.

What an ass**le.

I was beginning to wonder if the executive assistant was really sick, or if she was just sick of his domineering bullshit. But, despite my irritation, my wrist tingled where he'd held me, and I couldn't stop thinking about those eyes of his, that strong jaw …  and how I wanted to run my hands through that gorgeous wavy hair of his.

"Get over it, Isa. Never gonna happen," I muttered to myself.

Whoa. Where did that come from?

I mean, sure, he was amazing looking, and from the moment his eyes met mine, I felt a magnetism radiating off him, drawing me to him, but that didn't mean I was interested. Far from it, after the way he'd just spoken to me.

I ran my hands under the sink and slicked my hair back, redoing my bun as best I could at the nape of my neck. My hair was always unruly and wild. I just hoped it would stay put for the next hour. I retouched my light makeup, and looked at myself in the mirror.

It would have to do.

I took a deep breath, and readied myself to face Mr. Drake.

***

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