THE ASSISTANT

EMILY

Day Thirty

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I took the elevator to the top floor of Wolf Industries the next morning, hoping Nicholas would suggest that we have sex in his office to make up for lost time.

Holding my badge against his keypad, I opened the door and spotted him sitting at his desk. He was holding a pen and staring at a stack of papers.

“Hey, Nicholas,” I said, smiling. “I’m here.”

“I can see that, Miss Johnson.”

“Miss Johnson?”

“That is your name, isn’t it?” He looked up at me, his expression blank. “Would you mind signing the fulfillment contract—confirming that we’ve reached the thirty-day mark so that I can start the payment process for your services?”

Confused, I took the pen from him and signed my name. “I guess I should say my end of the deal then.” I smiled. “Thank you for agreeing to this outrageous financial demand, and for hiring me when I had little to no experience.”

“You’re more than welcome, Miss Johnson,” he said, his voice cold. “You can leave the ring on my desk. That’s not yours to keep.”

“Why are you being so ...” I shook my head and twisted the ring off my finger, setting it on his desk. “I’ll be sure to have my things cleared out by the end of today.”

“I can have someone do that for you, if you think it’ll take longer than an hour.”

“It won’t.” I felt hurt and upset that he was treating me like this all of sudden. “I can still give you today’s updates if you’d like me to.”

“I don’t.”

I didn’t bother saying anything else. I simply walked out. I wasn’t sure what the hell I’d expected from him at the end. I’d foolishly fallen for him, thinking that he meant what he said about falling in love with me long ago.

He said we were real ...

Heading into my office, I picked up a large box and stacked everything I wanted to keep inside.

I pulled my drawers open, noticing that Nicholas had stolen my raw sugar packets again. Then I spotted the two gift boxes he’d given me on our “anniversaries” and picked them up. They were still wrapped and untouched, so I figured I’d find out what the hell he’d given me as a gift.

I opened the red one from our first anniversary. It was a folded, handwritten letter.

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Dear Emily,

First, Happy Anniversary.

Second, I’ve been sitting on this letter for quite some time, and if I’ve grown to know you in the way I think I do, you probably won’t open this until several months down the line. (By then, I truly hope you’ll feel differently toward me.)

Anyway, thank you for being the best executive assistant I’ve ever had. I know how demanding I can be, I’m aware that I’m overbearing at times, and I apologize for the additional stress you’ve been under with the Waldman deal.

That said, if I’m being perfectly honest, I would prefer that you weren’t my assistant—that you took some time off to consider being with me in a different way.

You’re the most attractive and intelligent woman I’ve ever met, and after spending so much time with you, I think we’d be better off as a couple than in our current scenario with me in a position of power over you. (Although, full disclosure: if we ever make it to the bedroom, I’ll definitely be in a position of power therem...)

I like you, I want you, and I would like a chance to be with you.

If you feel the same, let me know, and I’ll immediately let you out of your contract.

(Well, as long as you promise to help me find a replacement who is half as good as you).

Otherwise, I’ll take it as a rejection and keep things between us professional.

—Nicholas A. Wolf

PS—Yes, I’m aware that you’re currently dating someone, but I highly doubt it will last. He’s not right for you. (And I’m better ... in every way.)

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I wiped a stray tear away and opened the second letter.

Dear Emily,

First, Happy Anniversary.

Second, I’m pretty confident that you’ve never opened my first letter. I won’t bother rehashing all of it—as I’m sure it’s still tucked away in your desk somewhere.

It’s now been two years, and my attraction to you has not waned. It’s intensified with each passing day and each comment that falls from your sexy, smart-ass mouth.

We’ve traveled all over the country together under the guise of work, but I would really prefer if we took the “work” element out of it. I would prefer if you were just mine, and not “my executive assistant.”

My offer still stands in regard to immediately letting you out of your contract.

Please let me know if you feel the same ...

Nicholas A. Wolf

PS—You’re not dating anyone right now, so before you waste your time with someone else, be with me ...

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I re-read both letters ten times, cursing myself for not opening them when he first gave them to me. I wondered if that was why he was being so cold today, if he really thought I didn’t feel the same way.

“Miss Johnson?” He was suddenly standing in my doorway.

“Yes, Mr. Wolf?” I matched his cold tone and set the boxes down.

“You seem to be taking a long time getting your things out of my building,” he said, moving closer to me. “What’s the problem?”

“My boss is currently behaving like an asshole again, and I’m not sure why or how to handle it.” I shrugged. “I was quite foolish I guess, because I thought he loved me.”

“He definitely does.” He smiled and wiped my stray tears away with his fingertips. Then he glanced at the opened anniversary gift boxes and smiled.

“You of all people should know that your boss channels his nervousness into coldness, especially whenever he’s on the verge of brokering a new deal.”

“He doesn’t have any new deals.” I looked into his eyes. “He closed the final one for this quarter last week.”

“No, there was one left.” He kissed my lips, and then he got down on one knee. He slowly opened a ring box, revealing a new, stunning emerald ring, and his eyes met mine.

I gasped and waited for him to say something, but no words came. Instead, he pulled a sheet of paper from his breast pocket and handed it to me.

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CONTRACT

Pre-proposal clause

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The “former boss,” Nicholas A. Wolf, would like the “former employee,” Emily Nicole Johnson, to sign this contract before he officially proposes marriage.

This contract serves as an agreement that should Emily Nicole Johnson accept Nicholas A. Wolf’s offer that she will fuck him in his office for the rest of the day. (And she will also agree that they have lost two years’ worth of fucking by being stuck in an employee/boss relationship, so their marriage will be full of “married fucking” and “make-up fucking.”)

In witness whereof, the parties have duly affixed their signatures and under hand and seal on this day.

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I looked at him and held back a laugh. Then I picked a pen from my desk and signed his contract in one second flat. I handed it to him, and he grabbed my hand. 

“Emily Nicole Johnson, I fucking love you, and I have for a very long time,” he said. “I want to be with you again, and I want it to last longer than thirty days.” He paused. “You’re the only person I look forward to having conversations with every day, the only person I actually enjoy being around for multiple days at a time, and if you give me a chance outside of my company, I’ll do everything I can, every day, to prove that you belong with me.” He swallowed. “Last time I asked you this, you said no, but ... Emily Nicole Johnson, will you marry me?”

“In a heartbeat.” I nodded. “Yes.”

He stood up and slowly slid the ring on my finger, pulling me closer and kissing me like only he could.

“Should we lock the door now?” I asked, breathless.

“In a minute,” he said, smirking as he pulled a different paper from his breast-pocket. “I want to make an amendment to the contract you just signed.”

I smiled. “You seriously need to do that right now?

“Yes.” He laughed and kissed me again. “Right now.”