I slowly stood up from my desk and looked outside the peephole. Mr. Leighton was looking down at his watch, his face still impossibly perfect and flawless. His full lips pressed into an angry flat line.

He looked up from his watch and stared through the peephole, letting his eyes meet mine.

I jumped back from the door and considered my options. I could open the door and listen to whatever he had to say, or I could leave through my office’s side exit door.

It was a no-brainer.

I grabbed my coat, my laptop, and shut down my computer. Then I rushed out of my side door and took the freight elevator down to where my town car was waiting.

My driver eyed me suspiciously as I literally ran through the garage, but he didn’t protest when I begged him to hurry up and get me home.

I didn’t wait for him to open the door for me or wish me a good day when we arrived. I practically jumped out of the car and rushed straight into my building—making a beeline for Amy’s place.

“Amy?” I knocked on her door. “Amy!”

“Coming!” She swung open her door immediately and pulled me inside. “No need to bang on my door like that, Mya. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I think I just got fired.”

“What? How do you think you just got fired? You either did or you didn’t.”

“Okay, okay. I didn’t get fired yet, but I’m pretty sure he’s going to fire me. He’s definitely going to fire me. Oh god, oh god, oh god....”

“Mya, slow down.” She placed her hands on my shoulders. “Speak English, slowly. Very slowly.”

“I accidentally sent him one of my complaining emails, a complaining email that was one hundred percent meant for you.”

“Was it worse than the one you sent me yesterday morning?”

“Way worse. I mentioned my fantasies about his cock in this one.... I called him an asshole and said I used to want him to bend me over his desk.”

Her face turned red as well, and she opened her mouth to say something, but the sound of my phone ringing caught both of our attention.

I pulled it out of my pocket and damn near dropped it at the sight of Mr. Leighton’s name on my screen. Unsure of what to do, I tossed it onto her couch.

“Is that him?” Amy asked.

I could only nod.

“Do you plan on answering it?”

“No.” I stared at it until it went to voicemail. But then it rang again.

And again.

Rolling her eyes, Amy picked up my phone and hit ‘answer’ before tossing it to me.

“Hello?” I answered, my voice was basically a whisper.

“Hello, Miss London.” The sound of my name falling from his mouth made me take a seat. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

I shook my head, as if he could see me.

“Are you there, Miss London?” His deep voice sent warmth through my body. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Not really....”

“Good. Where are you right now?”

“Oh, um ...” I looked to Amy for help, but she was smiling, looking as if this shit was actually funny. “I just ran down to the copy room.”

“So, you’re still in the building?”

“You could say that.”

“I saw you getting in your town car half an hour ago.” There was a smile in his voice. “You’re definitely not in the building right now.”

“Yes, well ... Is there something you need from me right now?”

“There is actually,” he said, his voice even deeper, sexier. “I came to your office this afternoon because I needed to discuss something private and very important that pertains to you and me, but I missed you somehow. So, I need you to come into work an hour early tomorrow so we can have this private and important conversation. Can you do that?”

I nodded, slightly turned on by the way he’d said the word “private.”

“Miss London,” he repeated. “Can you do that?”

“Yes....”

“Good. I’ll see you in the morning.” He ended the call, and a large glass of wine was immediately thrust into my hand via Amy.

Shit. Shit. Shit....

She tried her best to distract me from today’s epic mistake by making me watch terrible Netflix shows, and letting me crash on her couch for hours, but it was no use.

I woke up twice in the middle of the night, hoping this was was some type of bad dream. And for a moment, it seemed like it really was, until I checked my phone and saw that Mr. Leighton had sent me a message minutes before midnight.

Subject: Tomorrow.

Arrive one hour earlier than normal.

Don’t forget. (I won’t.)

Michael Leighton,

CEO, Leighton Publishing

THE ASSISTANT

Mya

Manhattan, New York

There was no “What I Need Today” email from him this morning, no last minute request for coffee, new release novels, or breakfast.

As I headed to the office one hour earlier like he requested, I noticed his Jaguar wasn’t in his designated spot. Somewhat relieved, I took the elevator to my floor and unlocked my office—unsure as to whether I should start organizing my things for an upcoming termination or not.

Whenever he decided to bring up my email, I knew I was going to have to choose between three options when I responded. Plan A: Deny. Deny. Deny. Plan B: Deny more. Deny more. Deny more. Plan C: Suck up my pride, admit I was wrong, and hope he doesn’t fire me because I haven’t received an official job offer from anywhere else yet.

It has to be Plan A....

Just as I was about to sit down, my desk phone rang and his office number appeared on the screen. Taking a deep breath, I picked up the receiver. “Yes, Mr. Leighton?”

“Come up to my office.” He hung up without a single word, leaving me confused.

I locked my purse in my drawer and took the steps, knocking three times until his familiar, “Yes?” greeted me and made me open the door.

He was sitting in his chair, his back facing me. At the sound of my heels clacking against the floor, he slowly spun around—his deep brown eyes meeting mine.

His suit today was one I hadn’t seen before, a dark grey one that perfectly complemented the new silver watch on his wrist. The watch he’d far too recently made me stand in line to get.

“Have a seat.” He motioned for me to sit in front of his desk.

I sat down and he picked up his coffee, taking a long sip.

“You know, Miss London,” He emphasized every syllable of my name. “I honestly thought you and I were on better terms, especially after working together for over a year. But it seems I was clearly mistaken.”

He looked as if he was waiting for some type of explanation in regards to my email, and I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to go for Plan A, B, or C. As if he could sense that I was weighing my options, his lips curved up into a smirk.

I tried to avert my gaze, even for a second, but I couldn’t look away from him at all.

“Are you going to say something?” he asked. “Or are you going to continue sitting there as if you have no idea what I’m talking about?”

“Is this about me leaving early yesterday?” I settled on Plan A. “I was feeling a little ill, that’s all.”