Chapter 4

DAMIEN POV

I walked to my desk, unbuttoned my suit jacket, before I sat down behind the massive desk. I make myself comfortable and then trained my gaze on my executive assistant of three years... and the longest by count.

My last two assistants were women too. They could have kept their jobs but they were too superficial. They dressed to impress and seduce. My single male clients and even the married ones were entrapped in their web of sophistication. It was a distraction my business didn't need, so I fired them.

My other assistants were either incompetent or couldn't take the brunt of working for me. Six of them sent in their resignation letters before I could even say 'shoot'.

But Cheryl Chastain? She's making an exception. Not only has she broken the record by making it to three years, but she is also technically the best assistant I have ever had... not I am ever going to admit that to anyone.

I ran my gaze down her outfit today, she is dressed in a loose-fitting black gown which was quite professional by the way but did nothing for her shape. The black gown was paired with an equally neat and well-ironed black jacket which came to a stop several inches below her ass. Cheryl puts very little effort into her appearance but still manages to pull off that look between sophisticated and professional.

"How has your day been so far, Mr. Heron?" she asked as she came to a halt in front of my desk. Her singature smile already in place.

"Fine." I answered, curtly. Picking a random file off my desk, I began to flip through it.

"And the meeting? How was that?"

"Fine," I repeated, leaving it at that.

She doesn't expect me to elaborate on my answer and certainly doesn't expect me to ask her anything. I know everything there's to know about her. She is twenty-four, has a degree in business, and also has a pretty high I.Q which was some numbers below mine.

I discarded the file to the side. "I want a coffee in–"

"Your coffee will be ready in ten minutes," she said and swiped her fingers across the tablet in her grasp. "I've emailed you a proposed schedule for the remainder of the day. Your appointment with Mr. Smith is at 2 pm today which is an hour from now by the way."

I nodded, my fingers drumming lowly on the desk.

She stared over my shoulder for a moment before she cleared her throat and glanced down at the tablet in her hand. "And I've also contacted Mr. Moore for his appointment tomorrow morning. He'll be here by 10 on the dot and–"

"Cancel it," I intercepted without missing a beat.

"Excuse me, what?" she exclaimed clearly thrown off guard.

"I said, cancel it. I had rather not spend time with greedy, opportunistic land developers who claim to care about the needs of the community when all they really care about is fattening their own pockets," I gave her a look. "I already have low tolerance for people like that, I'd rather skip meeting with this one."

"But, Mr. Moore has been on the waiting list for over two months. He simply can't be put off any longer," she said, with that blinding fake smile still in place. If she's frustrated or annoyed, she doesn't show it. She never does.

"Then put him back on the list. I've got important people to deal with first."

Her jaw clenched so hard I thought she might gnash some teeths to pieces. "In that case, I'll set up a meeting with the electrical engineering students which has been long over due."

Her tone was sweet and endearing but was lightly laced with that long over due annoyance and that was my proof that the all–sweet–loving–cheerful Cheryl might have some dark sides too.

"You do just that," I told her and went back to accessing the files on my table.

From the corner of my eye, I caught her shifting on a foot, uneasily. It was a small movement but one I caught all the same. She was nervous about something.

I waited her out.

She opened her mouth as if to say something but, instead pressed them together in a firm line. "Ok, Mr. Heron."

I nodded. "Have Mr. Smithfield turn in the budget that I asked for last week and forward the report from yesterday to my email now."

She blinked thrice as if somewhat flagger basted. "Of course, sir."

"Hmm," I hummed, silently dismissing her.

A confused look filtered across her face but she immediately smoothered it with another fake–as–fuck smile.

"Alright, I'll be in my office if you need anything." she said and turned to go.

I just got comfortable in my chair instead. Well if that's how she wants to play it. I will play.

Few metres away from the door, she spun right back. "Isn't there anything you would want to talk to me about, Sir." she winced slightly as soon as the words left her lips.

Feigning ignorance, I merely cocked my head to the side. My fingers going up to rub my lower lip gingerly. "No. Is there anything you would want to tell me, Ms. Chastain?" I arched a brow at her inquisitively.

Blinking rapidly, she choked out a no and bolted right out of the door.

A smirk appeared on my lips... Well if that's not entertaining.

I certainly needed humour in my life.