Hero(9)
Author: Samantha Young

It sounded nice on his lips. Very, very nice.

“Yeah?” I whispered.

“From now on you will refer to me as Mr. Carraway and only Mr. Carraway.”

Ouch. Talk about putting me in my place. “Of course.” I took another step toward the door.

“And one other thing.” This time I halted at his dark, dangerous tone. “You never mention your father or my mother, ever again.”

My heart practically clenched at the pain I heard in his voice.

With a careful nod, I slipped out of his office, and despite the way he threw me off balance, I was more determined than ever that this was the right decision. Somehow this was where I was meant to be.

CHAPTER 4

The hot water sluiced down over me and I waited for it to wake me up. So far, nothing. In fact, I was so tired I couldn’t even find the energy for first-day-on-the-job-jitters. I washed the conditioner out of my hair and stumbled from the shower.

Coffee.

I needed coffee.

I groaned and leaned back against the cool tiled wall of my bathroom and closed my eyes. I must have drifted off, because the next thing I knew I was jolted into full consciousness by the sounds of Rush’s “Working Man” blaring from my cell. It took me a minute to realize I’d made it my ringtone the night before.

I sleepily made my way into my bedroom and snatched the cell up off my bedside table. “ ’Ello?”

“I’m just checking if you managed to haul yourself out of bed,” Caine’s voice rumbled down the line.

It was like a double shot of espresso, shooting through my blood and waking me up.

“Of course I am,” I said, proud that I actually sounded alert. “I’ll be at the office at six thirty sharp.”

“I’d like a decaf latte macchiato on my desk when I get in.”

Uh … I glanced at the clock. I had not factored in coffee-buying time. “Okay, but I’ll probably be a little later, then.”

“No.” Caine’s voice suddenly lowered in warning. “You’ll get your ass in the office at six thirty with a latte or don’t bother coming in at all.” He hung up.

I sighed and threw my phone on the bed. Caine had warned me he was pretty much going to be an asshole, so I couldn’t be surprised by this. I also didn’t have time to be annoyed. If I was going to get him his damn latte and get into the office on time, I was going to have to forgo blowing out my hair. Instead I hurried around my room like a frantic person. I gave my hair a quick couple of blasts with my hair dryer and then coiled it up into a neat French knot.

The whole time I dressed I frowned, and it wasn’t just because of my cranky tiredness. It was because of the stockings I’d had to pull on, and the tight, ass-cupping black pencil skirt I was wearing. Rachel had accompanied me on a shopping trip to Newbury Street that weekend so I could find “appropriate” clothing for my new job. We’d barely made it two blocks before I dropped a small fortune on stylish, expensive suits and blouses so I could fit the image of a Carraway Financial Holdings employee. This meant I was heading to work in that darn figure-hugging pencil skirt with a blue silk blouse tucked into it, a black peplum jacket to match the skirt, and black three-inch Prada heels I already owned but had rarely worn.

I’d even swiped on a little mascara.

I stared at my reflection in my full-length mirror and nodded. Stylish but conservative.

I wrinkled my nose.

I missed my boy shorts and flip-flops.

There was no more time to glower at my reflection. I had coffee to get! I jumped in my silver-blue Miata, flew through the streets, and got to International Place in less than fifteen minutes. After parking in the underground garage of our building, I ran inelegantly in my Pradas to the coffee place around the corner since the one in the courtyard of our building hadn’t opened yet. When I got to the coffee place, I was surprised by the lack of a line.

And then I realized that not everyone was an obsessed businessman who started work at six thirty in the freaking morning! I glanced at my watch as I pushed into the coffeehouse.

I was fifteen minutes early.

All that panic for nothing.

Once I had Caine’s latte and my own double espresso, I strode into the building, mentally preparing myself for being pushed to my limits by my unyielding new boss. I flashed the ID Ethan had set up for me on Friday at the security guard and hopped on the elevator all the way up to Carraway Financial Holdings.

There was no one in the office except a cleaner. The sense of stillness in the place initiated those first-day jitters I’d been waiting for.

I took the key out Ethan had also given me and unlocked Caine’s office. It was immaculate. Not a thing out of place. It was kind of cold, in fact, and although there were a few plants in there, there was nothing personal. No photographs, no nothing. There was a painting of the Boston skyline that was pretty cool, but it was the only thing in the office that had any personality or color.

I placed his latte carefully on his desk and eyed the large L-shaped sofa by the window.

It needed cushions.

Eyeing the uncomfortable-looking sofa as I passed it, I decided a throw wouldn’t go amiss either.

I finally allowed myself to relax a little as I settled at my glass desk outside his office. I looked down at it and grimaced. There’d be no hiding a tabloid magazine I wasn’t supposed to be reading under this thing, then, huh? Caine was a stick-in-the-mud. Even his furniture prevented me from having fun.

Booting up my computer, I sipped at my espresso and sighed with relief.

Coffee.

Sometimes I thought it might be better than sex.

According to Rachel, I didn’t know what good sex was, though, so apparently I was unqualified to make that comparison.

I was only sitting at the desk a few minutes when I heard footsteps approach. I looked up, my stomach doing that flippy thing again when Caine appeared around the corner. This morning he was wearing a light silver-gray suit that fit him to perfection and carrying a black leather briefcase. A white gold cuff link winked at his wrist as he reached up to straighten the thin dark blue tie that didn’t need to be straightened.

He stopped by my desk with one eyebrow raised.

It was really appalling that any man could look that good at this time in the morning. Or anytime, for that matter.

“You made it.”

“Yes, sir,” I said breezily. “And your latte is on your desk.”

Caine gave me a short nod, his eyes dropping to my torso. “Stand up.”

I attempted not to bristle at the clipped demand and slowly rose to my feet. He waved his hand to the floor in front of him and I took that to mean he wanted me to go there. Although blood heated my cheeks, I pretended I was completely unaffected by this demeaning crap, because I could tell by that gleam in his eyes that he wanted me to be pissed off. Once I was standing in front of him for inspection, Caine’s face remained blank as he appraised my appearance. He made a circling motion with his forefinger and I spun slowly around for him.