T H R E E

IN NO WAY DID I THINK MY BIGGEST MISTAKE WOULD SOMEHOW LAND ME A JOB.

But in the strangest sense, that's exactly what had happened. I found myself working as a personal assistant at Baldwin Industries, a tech giant whose main headquarters were stationed in downtown Philadelphia. It was an international company, grand, luxurious, and I could feel my heart fall into my stomach every time I realized how I'd somehow went from a caterer to this.

And what a startling transition it was. My job was to take calls and emails for my boss as well his schedule, as per the description, but I realized how much harder this would be when he leaned in closer to my face to whisper, "and some extra things." Especially when considering that said boss was the man from the party and the elevator, in other words: Ashton Baldwin.

He was smart, ruthless, and rather eccentric - a lethal combination that scared me into assuming what I believed to be the worst things when he told me that. But once again, I was surprised when he stopped by my desk and dropped a pencil, an envelope, and a stationary card in front of me.

I looked up from the computer in clear confusion, wondering what exactly was happening here when he grinned. "Could you write this letter out to Emilie Standifer," he said, "I want to thank her for last night, but she's never seen my handwriting and it's bad to say the least."

I was deeply puzzled by his request, but before I could ask for a follow-up, he was already leaving and I was left alone to figure it out for myself. I didn't even know what to write, especially since it was a love letter to a woman I did not know in the slightest. All I knew was that she must've put him in a good mood last night.

After running my fingers through my hair as I mulled this over, I came to realize that I at least had one resource I could depend on. My hands flew from my head before grabbing the phone on my desk and dialing the reception desk.

It took only two rings before Elijah answered, his voice a crisp "Hello, Baldwin Industries" that was somehow perfectly transferred from his microphone on the first floor to my speaker on the forty-fifth.

"Hi," I said, "this is Fiona, the new personal assistant, calling."

"Oh," he said with a bit of a gasp, all of his complacency seeming to have thrown itself out of the window. "You got the job, then. Congratulations."

"Don't congratulate me yet," I said with a wry chuckle. "Your boss wants me to write a love letter, thanking one of his love conquests for a good time last night. I, however, am clueless as to who this woman is and I'm guessing he wants me to make a lasting impression on her for him. Or well, one that scores him another night."

"Our boss," he corrected, but I could tell he was laughing too. "Who is this woman? He gave you the name, right?"

The way that was even a question made me think back to Kelsey and I wondered how good of an idea this actually was. Here I was playing his wingman and yet I had a crush on him, something I haven't had on many people in a long time. I was used to keeping my head down and staying out of big crowds, and that helped me avoid catching feelings for anyone, but now I was working at one of the biggest companies in the city. There were plenty of good looking and affluent men working here, not to mention my boss who allegedly was the devil.

I used my shoulder to hold he phone up against my ear as I withdrew a hair tie from my purse and did my hair up in a ponytail. "Of course. I hope that was obvious."

"I worked here for five years," he returned cheekily, "it's not obvious. I have some callers on the line, so I have to put you on hold, but I'll be back."

I sat there, on my computer as I searched the internet for anything I could find on the Emilie Standifer woman in question. They didn't provide me with a picture of her, but under current events, their were details of her brother, Nolan's wedding being held in New Delhi because his fiancée hailed from there. He was a famous actor apparently, staring in some action movies that came out over the past three years. It made me realize how long it's been since I've seen a good thriller, usually going to send romantic comedies whenever I did go to the theater.

"Okay," Elijah's voice said on the end of the other line. "So tell me who this woman is." And when I told him, he was surprised. "Really, Emilie Standifer, huh? She's hot as hell, that's all I can say."

"Figured, I'm sure Ashton Baldwin would only sleep with the cream of the crop," I said sarcastically. Checking in the timed-out screen of the laptop that sat before me, I checked my reflection. I still had an "enviable rack" as Katie had told me once before, my long black hair was glossy, and my green eyes complimented my olive skin well. As idiotic as it was, I felt self-conscious by how Elijah had described her to me, like if she were sex on legs and I was too plain for him.

At that, he described her to me: tall frame, long blonde hair - that in his words, cascaded down her back like waves - and sharp cheekbones that - once again, in his words, could slice an apple. She was definitely competition, whether I was playing the game or not.

"Also, she's rather leggy," he said, "be sure to include that in there."

I rolled my eyes. "Sure thing, pervert."

He scoffed in indignation, starting off his defense, but I hung up on him evilly, not letting him get the satisfaction of explaining himself from me. We would have to talk another time in order for him to get that, something I was looking forward to because of Elijah's easygoing personality.

I finally put pen to paper, doing my best to flirt with the woman in place of Ashton, which was probably the most daunting part about the job. When I finally composed something I thought was up to his caliber, I was about to put it in the envelope when I realized I didn't sign the letter. The handwriting itself didn't need to be one hundred percent correct, but his signature couldn't be faked without causing suspicion. While we lived in a digital age where typing ruled, handwritten signatures as a show of endearment or validity never phased out.

So I got up from my desk, carefully pushing my chair in so as not to distract anyone who was working around me, and I made my way over to Ashton's office and knocked on the door.

"It's open," I heard his voice call out lazily on the other side, so I turned the lock and pushed the door open. I had no clue what to expect, so if I saw anything it would've taken my breath away.

But Ashton Baldwin's office was on a different plane of astonishing. It was spacious, organized, and he had a majestic view of the entire city from the large window that made up the far wall his desk was seated in front of. He was sitting at that desk, his feet up on top - his shoes on the floor so I could only guess that it was very expensive wood that even someone as seemingly careless as him wouldn't want to scuff. He seemed to be reading something and when I came closer, I saw that it was a newspaper.

"Ms. White," he said when he looked up from it and saw me there. As I came closer, his smirk that I was accustomed to became more wider and more devilish, making me subconsciously afraid that I had done something wrong or he had something wicked in store for me. He set down his paper, allowing me access to see how rough and calloused his hands were, and maybe what he had in mind wouldn't be so bad after - snap out of it.

It was no secret that he was breathtakingly attractive, so much that it should've been illegal. But I had just written him a love letter to one of his escapades inviting her for another adventure in the bedroom. Now was definitely not the time to get involved with him.

"To what do I owe the pleasure," he said as I stopped in front of his desk.

"Ms. Standifer, actually," I said with a forced smile. "I need to know your signature so that she'll know it's a genuine note."

Being a businessman himself, I guess he understood this, for he took the note from me and signed in his drastic scrawl at the bottom of it, not even bothering to read it, but instead setting the pen down on top of it and sliding it back to me. "Your penmanship is amazing, Ms. White. I wonder what else you can do with your hands. They must be rather skilled."

Most definitely, I wanted to assure him. But not only was he my boss, but he was my boss who happened to be in a relationship. Not to mention Kelsey, who ran away from him for reasons I were afraid to find out.

"Only the best would know," I said curtly, meeting his eye evenly.

"What exactly do you mean by that," he asked as he leaned in closer. "Hopefully that in due time, I will find out." He was so close, not exactly to my face, but to my waist and I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. "Now if you would excuse me, I have an important business call to make."

-

THE WALK HOME WAS EXCRUCIATING.

I was surprised that I could survive it, in all honesty. I would always miss the bus and I hated waiting at the stop because you never knew if the next one would come in two or twenty-two minutes, so I just preferred to hightail my way back home.

Thankfully this time, luck was on my side, for I could see the bus a block behind me and I was only steps away from the next stop. After getting on and paying my fare, I noticed how it was crowded; people leaning against the walls, all the seats filled, two wheelchairs causing the priority seats to be folded up so that the disabled people wouldn't slide away with the bus. All of the crowdedness and commotion all around me was enough to make me sick, and I was just about to ask for a refund when I noticed a familiar face, the hand that belonged to it stretching up to beckon me.

"Fiona," Elijah said with a grin on his face. "What are you doing here? Do you usually take the bus?"

I shook my head as I carefully made my way over to him, smiling at him gratefully. "No, everywhere I go to is in walking distance, and Baldwin Industries fits the bill, I guess, except a forty minute walk in high heels or any shoes is enough to murder someone."

He nodded, probably aware of the curious eyes that found their way to us. "Do you want to take a seat, I'm getting off in a few stops," he asked politely, but he was already getting up from his seat regardless.

"Wow, thank you. What a gentleman you are," I said before I took his seat. "This is a one-eighty from how you were earlier today in the office. Leggy Ms. Standifer would be happy to agree."

He chuckled. "We're in public, of course I'm nice. If you ask the ladies around the office, let's just say I'm naughty."

"I don't know anyone besides you and Mr. Baldwin, so my introductory line is not going to be about your infamy," I said. It was meant as a joke, but it was true that I didn't know many - or any - people in the office. I was like that new girl in high school who just made her first friend, someone who was as low on the totem pole as she was.

Maybe I had to take it to the top.