THE BOSS

Michael

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Manhattan, New York

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I stepped off the elevator the following Monday evening, noticing that the lights were still on in the boardroom. Confused, I headed over to shut them off, but I saw Mya sitting alone at the end of the table. She was flanked by several boxes of files and holding one of my best designer pens between her teeth.

I stared at her as she flipped through her notebook, remembering how I’d once attempted to find numerous ways to get rid of her when she first started. How I really tried to get her to quit.

It was never personal, and never because she was awful. She was actually the smartest woman I’d ever met, the best executive assistant I’d ever hired, but her unfortunate flaw was being sexy as fuck. Beyond sexy as fuck.

Absolutely stunning, her light hazel eyes perfectly complemented her long brown hair and puffy, pink lips. Her light, raspy laughter was sexy enough to catch any man’s attention, and she possessed a never-ending wardrobe of curve-fitting dresses that I actually looked forward to seeing every day.

For months, I’d wanted to see her smart ass mouth wrapped tightly around my cock. I’d wanted to bend her ass over my desk and fill her pussy with my cock while fucking her from behind, but I knew better than to ever attempt to make that fantasy a reality.

There were only a few times when I’d been careless—when I’d let my gaze linger on her for a little too long, or when she wore a particular shade of dress that left little to the imagination.

Coughing, she suddenly looked up and noticed me staring from the doorway. Her cheeks flushed pink and she cleared her throat. “May I help you with something, Mr. Leighton?”

“I don’t recall giving your permission to come onto my floor today.”

“That’s because you didn’t.” She shrugged. “So?”

“So, unless you personally hear me say the words, ‘Step into my office,’ or ‘Yes, you have permission to sit in my boardroom and do your work’ your ass is currently trespassing.”

“Oh, really?” She shrugged again. Then she took out her cell phone and smiled, hitting ‘record’ on that goddamn conversation app. “Could you kindly repeat what you were just saying, Mr. Leighton? I.e. Michael Leighton of Leighton Publishing? Particularly that ‘Your ass is trespassing’ line...”

I shut the door, immediately walking to my own office.

The second I hit the lights, Brad turned around from the beverage cabinet and held up a bottle of champagne.

“Congratulations to you!” He uncorked it, letting the frothy foam drip onto the carpet.

“What’s the occasion?” I took off my jacket and sat behind my desk.

“Three things, actually.” He poured two glasses and walked over, handing me one. “For one, the most obvious, you’ve had the best year for any publisher in the country.”

“Two, you’ve gone an entire year without appearing on the cover of a tabloid or getting involved in any sex scandals.”

“That shouldn’t be an accomplishment, Brad.”

“It is when it comes to you. Trust me.”

I tried to think of the third thing and beat him to it, but I didn’t have a clue as to what it could be.

“And three ...” he said, “You’ve seemingly done the impossible. You’ve kept the same executive assistant for over a year. You can thank me a million times later for finding Mya London.”

I tossed back my drink at the sound of her name and rolled my eyes. I was considering walking right back into that boardroom and telling her to bend over the chair.

Or maybe I should fuck her on the table ... No. The floor....

“Um. Hello?” Brad waved his hand in front of my face. “Are you there, Michael?”

“My apologies. What were you saying?”

“I was saying that it’s quite ironic that the one time you find an assistant who lasts a year, she decides to leave.” He laughed. “Crazy, right? I’ll make sure we find someone half as good when she leaves.”

“What? What do you mean when she leaves?”

He tossed back his drink. “She put me down as a reference for a few jobs she’s received interviews for and they’ve left voicemails requesting me to call and answer a few of their questions.” He pulled out his phone. “Speaking of which, I need to schedule those at some point tomorrow.”

“Which companies?” My blood was suddenly boiling.

“The usual thieves of great employees.” He laughed again. “Apple, Microsoft, and Amazon.”

“And why the hell didn’t she—” I changed my tone. “Why didn’t she use me as a reference?”

Or even fucking tell me she was leaving?

He shrugged. “Probably assumed you’re busy enough and you wouldn’t have time to call the people back. Or maybe she rightfully assumed that I’m the better choice.”

He changed the subject and started talking about our next quarter projections, but I could only halfway listen. I was furious at the audacity of Mya to even think about leaving.

I was paying her more than double what I paid any of my previously EAs—deservedly so, and her benefits package was specifically tailored for her: The day I found out she loved and preferred the hardback version of novels, I added a mandate to her contract that she receive five hundred dollars’ worth of hardback books per month from any bookstore she wanted. The day I found out she didn’t have her own car and was taking a cab back and forth to work and conferences? I added a mandate to her contract that gave her unlimited access to her own private town car and driver. (No other executive assistant in the building had ever had his or her own town car, and I’d made sure no one else in the company knew about this arrangement. Even Brad.) And the day I found out she’d actually wanted to be a professional assistant and eventually rise to the ranks of CEO of a company someday, I thought I’d found a potential business partner for the future.

But now, I wasn’t so sure. Add that to the fact that she wouldn’t even tell me that she was considering quitting?

This was fucked up.

This was war.

“So, I’m thinking.” Brad was still babbling. “If we put more of an investment into the audio production for the second quarter of next year—”

“How much are the other companies offering her as a salary?” I cut him off. “Are they paying significantly more than we are?”

“What?” He stepped back. “Did you hear any of what I said over the past five minutes?”

“Not at all.” I didn’t even try to pretend otherwise. “How much are they paying her?”

He blinked.

“Actually, don’t even answer that,” I said. “Forward me those company inquiries, and any other new ones you may get. I’ll be her reference....”