Book 1 - Page 2 (1/2)

“Ready for lunch?” she asked.

“I’m going to have to skip it. This is the day from h.e.l.l.” I looked at her apologetically, and her smile turned into a smirk.

“Day from h.e.l.l, or boss from h.e.l.l?” She took a seat on the edge of my desk. “I heard he was on a bit of a rampage this morning.”

I gave her a knowing look. Sara didn’t work for him, but she knew all about Bennett Ryan. As the youngest son of company founder Elliott Ryan, and with a notoriously short fuse, he was a living legend in the building. “Even if there were two of me, I wouldn’t be able to get this finished in time.”

“You sure you don’t want me to bring you back something?” Her eyes moved in the direction of his office. “A hit man? Some holy water?”

I laughed. “I’m good.”

Sara smiled and left the office. I’d just finished off the last of my coffee when I bent down, noting a run in my stockings. “And on top of everything else,” I began, hearing Sara return, “I’ve already snagged these. Actually, if you’re going somewhere there’s chocolate, bring me back fifty pounds, so I can eat my feelings later.”

I glanced up and saw that it wasn’t Sara standing there. My cheeks flushed red and I pulled my skirt back down.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Ryan, I—”

“Miss Mills, since you and the other office girls have plenty of time to discuss problematic lingerie, in addition to putting together the Papadakis presentation, I need you to also run down to the Willis office and retrieve the market a.n.a.lysis and segmentation for Beaumont.” He straightened his tie, looking at his reflection in my window. “Do you think you can manage that?”

Did he just call me an “office girl”? Sure, as part of my interns.h.i.+p I often did some basic a.s.sistant work for him, but he knew d.a.m.n well I had worked for this company for years before receiving a JT Miller scholars.h.i.+p to Northwestern. I was four months away from getting my business degree.

Getting my degree and getting the h.e.l.l out from under you, I thought. I looked up to meet his blazing eyes. “I’ll be happy to ask Sam if she—”

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” he cut me off. “I’d like you to pick them up.” He gazed at me for a moment with a clenched jaw before turning on his heel and storming back to his office, pulling the door closed roughly behind him.

What the f**k was his problem? Was slamming doors like a teenager really necessary? I grabbed my blazer from the back of the chair and began making my way to our satellite office a few buildings down.