I’m frozen.

Completely unable to step foot into CraveMe’s downtown headquarters.

Nervous? Fuck yeah.

Heart racing.

Sweat glistening along my forehead.

Clumsy.

Okay, well, for the record, clumsy is just me on a normal day.

But think about it…just yesterday I was a live-in nanny—cooking, cleaning, washing clothes, and running errands.

And today, I’m officially the Personal Assistant to Antonio Michaels.

Stacy seemed giddy when I shared the news via text after I got back home last night—probably even a tad more excited than myself. She said I’m not to worry about leaving her house anytime soon. I still have a place to live, full house privileges and all.

Before going to bed, I ransacked my closet in search of suitable PA attire. Appearance equals confidence, and believe me, a potent dose of confidence is needed to boost my esteem.

This morning, I ultimately settled on a smart-looking pinstripe pant suit and my favorite pair of red, strappy high heels—I love heels just as much as I do lingerie. The two components belong together, like cocoa-dusted whipped cream and a fancy cappuccino.

“Are you gonna just stand there…or are you planning to eventually go in?” Antonio’s soft hum buzzes in my ear and I instinctively jump. The word “fuck,” escapes my lips, and when I whirl around to face him, he lets out a chuckle.

“The return of Miss Potty Mouth?” He playfully arches both brows. “Or perhaps it’s just when you’re around me?”

I shift, placing a hand on my hip. “Seems as though you have a subtle way of bringing out the potty mouth in me.” I lift my chin in defense and catch a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Hmm. I see.” His shoulder grazes mine as he reaches to open the door to the office. “Opening the door is the first step. Now that I’ve done that for you, please, be my guest and step foot into your new role as Miss Personal Assistant.”

He steps over to the door and, while holding it open, waves his hand, motioning me to walk in.

Sauntering past him, I get a generous whiff of his cologne.

Soapy. Musky. Masculine.

And a mild hint of arrogance.

But he’s undoubtedly hot.

No wonder women flock to him. That is, at least according to what I read about him on the Internet.

“Normally I’d introduce you to the office team, but today’s Wednesday,” he says, gesturing for me to follow.

He swipes a key card, unlocking the door that opens up to the long hallway leading up to his office. The same office I stormed out of yesterday, like a spoiled diva. I laugh internally at the thought of how I must have looked to him.

“What’s the deal with Wednesday?” I say as we reach his office doors.

“Most of the team works from home on Wednesdays. Including myself. But I forgot about that last night when I dropped you off at your house.” He opens the door. “Have a seat. I’ll gather your new hire paperwork and then show you to your office.”

I walk over, ease down onto one of the high-back velvet-lined chairs in front of his desk, and cross my legs. “So, it’s just the two of us here this morning?”

He sits across from me, a large mahogany desk between us. “No. Hector, our IT guy is here. He opens up the office each day around seven. But he’s a like a hermit. You can meet him another day.”

I nod and my eyes survey the room.

Gray walls accented by white crown molding.

Walls with framed posters of lingerie-wearing models on the catwalk.

A sleek leather couch that faces floor-to-ceiling windows with panoramic views of the city.

And a desk with two computers, a few file folders, and a small gold-framed photo of a dark-haired woman wearing a flowery dress. The chic black-and-white photo captures the woman smiling as she looks down, her hand caressing her remarkably round belly.

His sister? His wife? What if the Internet is wrong? Maybe he’s a happily married man with a baby on the way.

The sound of Antonio clearing his throat, interrupts my theorization. “Here’s a few papers for you to fill out. Just some information that Liza will enter in the computer tomorrow. You know…your full name, address, emergency contact, etcetera.” He hands me the small stack of papers. “You can take them home and bring them back tomorrow, all filled out.”

He rises from his chair and straightens the collar on his shirt. “Let me show you to your office.”

My office, an extension of his, is quaint and tidy. I snap a quick selfie of me sitting behind my desk and send it to Stacy and Emma, showcasing my elation.

They both immediately reply with a happy face emoji.

Antonio peers in, leaning on the frame of my office door.

Why, oh why, does he have to look so yummy?

Pressed Pants. Crisp White Button Down. Leather Shoes.

He’s like a goddamn living, breathing front cover of a GQ magazine.

“So, what do you think of your office?” he says, now stepping in.

“It’s perfect.” I pause as I survey the room. “I’ll add some feminine touches to liven it up but, all in all, it’s quite fantastic.”

He sits down on the edge of my desk, his blue eyes, dark and smoky, momentarily fixed on mine. “Come,” he gestures with his hand for me to follow and smiles softly. “I’ve gotta be in Westwood in an hour for a brainstorming meeting with our marketing firm. You’ll need to meet them anyway, so you might as well join me. You can take notes.”

“Of course.” I stand, collect my purse along with the stack of new hire paperwork, and follow close behind my new boss, all too eager to begin my first assignment as his personal assistant.

Nervous? Not anymore.

Somehow, I get the rather astute impression I’m going to like it here.