Finnegan
"Who the hell are you?!"
A woman stood in the middle of my office, dripping wet as though she had just crawled out of a swimming pool. Water pooled around her feet and spread across my imported Italian marble in an ever-widening circle. Her dark curls were soaked and clung to her face and neck in tangled ropes.
I wasn't in a particularly good mood this morning. Courtesy of…
Her white shirt had become completely transparent and clung to generous breasts that were barely contained by black lace underneath.
The soaked fabric revealed everything: the outline of dusky nipples straining against the delicate bra, the gentle curve of her stomach, the shadow of her navel. Her white skirt molded to rounded hips and thighs like a second skin and left nothing to the imagination.
What the hell was this? Another one?
My jaw clenched. The last assistant had pulled this exact stunt some weeks ago. Showed up soaking wet in a white blouse and batted her eyelashes while pretending it was an accident. I'd fired her before she'd finished her pathetic introduction.
I turned to Jason, who stood frozen in the doorway looking like his brain had short-circuited. His eyes were locked on the woman's chest and his mouth hung slightly open while color rose in his cheeks.
Pathetic.
"Jason!" I snapped.
He flinched violently and his gaze jerked toward me like I'd struck him. "Y-yes, sir?"
"Care to explain who the fuck this is and how she got past security to my floor?"
"I—uh—she's—that is—" He stammered and practically cowered against the doorframe.
The woman cleared her throat as if she was reminding me that I could speak to her directly. A whiff of her floral jasmine scent wafted into my nostrils, filling the office air.
I looked at her properly for the first time. Water still streamed from her hair and trailed down that see-through shirt and over those full breasts. Droplets followed the curve of her body and disappeared into the waistband of her skirt. But her expression…
She wasn't smiling coyly. Wasn't biting her lip or arching her back suggestively like the last one had. She looked absolutely furious.
Cornflower blue eyes blazed with barely contained rage. Her jaw was locked tight and her shoulders were rigid despite her soaked state.
Anger radiatedcoff her in waves, but almost immediately to my surprise, she pasted on a fake syrupy smile and extended her hand but said nothing. Just stood there dripping water and silently seething while maintaining that false expression of politeness.
"Abigail Kellerman, sir. Your new Executive Assistant. "
Ignoring her outstretched hand, I strode past her, to the long mahogany oak desk in my office.
"If you wanted to seduce me," I said without looking at her while I retrieved my laptop, "you should know the last assistant who tried this little wet t-shirt routine got fired before she finished introducing herself."
Silence.
I glanced up. If she'd looked furious before, now she looked like she wanted to commit murder. That fake smile had vanished and been replaced by an expression of pure and unadulterated rage.
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides and water still dripped steadily down her body. Her chest heaved with barely controlled anger and made those breasts rise and fall in a way that might have been distracting if I cared about anything other than whatever game she was playing.
But she didn't speak. Didn't defend herself or make excuses or simper like the last one.
She just stood there visibly trembling with silent fury, but it wws obvious she had a lot to say, but she couldn't. At least she was wise.
"If you're quite done with your little display," I said coldly, "what's my itinerary for the day?"
"Sir, she's drenched," Jason interrupted weakly, still hovered in the doorway like he might bolt at any second. "Maybe we should—"
"Did I ask for your opinion, Jason?"
He flinched again and his mouth snapped shut while his face went pale. Then I turned my attention back to the woman.
"When you're on my time, you do your job. I don't care if you're wet or dry or on fire or being pursued by wild dogs. Your job is to have my itinerary ready. So either you have it or you don't. Which is it?"
Jason shot her an apologetic look from the doorway where he still cowered. For a moment, I thought she might actually burst into tears like the assistants before her.
Then she lifted her chin and that fake syrupy smile returned.
"Nine-thirty," she began and her voice dripped with artificial sweetness.
"Conference call with the Singapore office regarding the Marina Bay project. Ten-fifteen. Board meeting to discuss Q2 projections and the proposed expansion into the Dubai market. Eleven-thirty. Lunch meeting with Senator Morrison at The French Room. You're having the salmon and she's vegetarian and you're donating fifty thousand to her campaign so try to be charming."
I furrowed my brows. She didn't have a tablet. No files. No phone in her hand. Had she memorized my entire schedule?
She continued without pause and rattled off meetings and calls and appointments with perfect accuracy. She even included details I hadn't mentioned to HR. She'd actually memorized everything.
"And I apologize for the inconvenience, sir," she finished and her eyes locked on mine with that same furious smile, "It appears that the coffee station had a little malfunction."
She held my gaze and no once did she stutter even with the obvious scowl on my face. I leaned back in my chair and studied her. Most of my workers cowered when I spoke to them the way I'd just spoken to her. Jason was still practically trembling in the doorway, but this new assistant stood her ground and stared me down like she wanted to throw my laptop at my head.
Intriguing.
"Mrs. Chen's office is on the nineteenth floor," I said finally. "There's an emergency supply closet with spare clothes. You have ten minutes to make yourself presentable. When you return, you'll prepare my morning briefing packet with property reports and investor updates and market analysis."
"Remake my coffee to the correct temperature and have everything on my desk before my nine-thirty call. Understood?"
That saccharine smile widened though her eyes darkened further.
"Crystal clear, Mr. Wolfe."
She turned on her heel and water squelched in her ruined shoes as she marched toward the door with her spine ramrod straight.
Jason scrambled out of her way like she might bite him.
I turned back to my laptop and pulled up my email without another glance. The door clicked shut behind her.
Good. At least this one had fire in her. The last seven assistants had been spineless and incompetent. Let's see how long this one would last. Assuming she didn't quit after today.