Under His Obsession - A Steamy Workplace Romance - Cathryn Fox Page 0,3

weren’t so anxious, my stomach roiling, I’d love to curl up and have a nap. Although I’m not sure why I’m so tired. I get enough sleep most nights, and it’s not like I could be pregnant—unless it was immaculate conception.

“There is something I think you should know.”

He walks up to his bar and picks up a brandy decanter. “Drink?”

After the morning I’ve had, I sure could use one, or two, but I politely decline. I’m not sure I’d be able to keep it down. He pours a generous amount into a crystal snifter, swallows it in one smooth motion, and refills his glass.

I wait as he slowly makes his way to the sofa across from my chair. I take stock of the room, my gaze going from the colossal desk in front of the window to the Polaroid camera on the side table. I note the stack of what looks like wedding photos beside it. I cringe, knowing they’re not happy photos of Will’s wedding, considering he never had one. While a part of me is mortified about the terrible invasion of privacy, I can’t help but think his fiancée had a right to know what was going on. I sure as hell would have wanted to know. But I’d have to have a fiancé before he could cheat on me. Aren’t I a real catch now? Jobless, penniless and soon to be homeless. I can’t understand why men aren’t lining up.

“You still work for Starlight?” James asks, like he’s reading my mind.

I fold my hands in my lap. “As of today, no.”

He straightens. “You quit?”

“Fired, actually. That’s why I’m here.”

The lines around his eyes deepen as he squints at me. “What is it you want me to know, Khloe?”

“First, I’d like you to know I had nothing to do with the exposé on Will. I had only just started at the magazine and had no idea they were doing a story on him.”

“Never thought you were involved, child,” he says quickly, and my shoulders relax slightly.

I lean forward and put my hands on my knees. “I was asked to do a follow-up today because I had connections.”

He nods slowly and takes another swig. “And you were fired because you refused?”

“That’s right.” Yeah, the man is still sharp. “But I wanted to warn you and Will. I might have said no, but the next reporter won’t.”

“I appreciate you coming to tell me this.” He sets his glass down, and his curled fingers adjust the gray cardigan around his shoulders. His eyes shut, and at first I think he’s deep in thought, but he goes quiet for so long, I fear he’s fallen asleep.

I’m about to rise and tiptoe to the door so I don’t disturb him when his lids open and his blue eyes pin me in place.

“Do you have work lined up?” he asks.

“No, it just happened, but I’m about to start pounding the pavement.”

“I have a job for you.”

I shake my head fast. “While I appreciate your kindness, I—”

“As stubborn as your father.” His chuckle is deep and raspy. “But you see, Khloe, you’d be doing me a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” I ask, settling back in my seat.

“Will needs an assistant for his upcoming trip to Saint Thomas.”

Oh God, a trip to Saint Thomas sounds heavenly right now. A Caribbean beach, sand, water... But I suppose if I’m in some boardroom taking notes for Will Carson, I’ll see none of the island. Still, getting out of New York for a while does sound nice.

“It’s a temporary job, until you find something in your field, of course.”

I consider my meager savings. I’m adamant about making my own way in life, but a paying job until I can find something else, well, that would cover next week’s rent and put food in my belly—once it stops churning. Plus, James did say I’d be helping him out.

“What would I have to do?” I ask.

“You can write, can’t you?”

“Of course.”

“I must warn you. He’s not always an easy man to work for.”

“I’ve dealt with worse, I’m sure.”

James chuckles. “I’m sure you have. Will, however, is very regimented and has high expectations of those who work for him.”

“I have high expectations of myself,” I assure him. After Steph telling me Will was pretty much an ogre, I’m not sure why I’m working so hard to sell myself. Oh, right... I like having a roof over my head.

“He also has a strict dress code.”

“A dress code? Really?” From what I know about