Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 84219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
You’re getting paid overtime.
I take a seat at my desk and switch on my computer. Opening my email folder, I see Mr. Vitale’s already sent eight emails, and I get back to work, determined to show him I’m a damn good PA.
Chapter 2
Franco
After ending the call with Salvador Castro, my contact for medical supplies, I get up from behind my desk. I grab my jacket, and while shrugging it on, I head to the door.
When I step out of my office, it’s to hear my PA’s stomach rumble.
“You can go home,” I mutter, and without another word, I stalk toward the elevators.
I hear her mumble something under her breath, and it has me stopping dead in my tracks. Glancing at the woman who’s been testing my patience for the past two weeks, I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Do you have something to say, Miss Blakely?”
She grabs her handbag and walks toward me with an unhappy expression tightening her features. “Next time you expect me to work until nine p.m. the least you could do is provide dinner.”
My gaze sharpens on her, and my tone is grim as I say, “I wasn’t aware you didn’t know how to order food.”
Her eyebrows draw together. “Of course, I know how to order food.”
“Then it’s no one’s fault but your own for not eating today.”
Christ, I’m going to fire her. Why the fuck is it so hard to find competent help?
She walks by me as she says, “I wasn’t aware I’m allowed to eat at my desk. It will make things so much easier. Have a good night, Mr. Vitale.”
Clenching my jaw, I follow her toward the elevators.
I swear the woman is just a pretty head with no brains. The first time I saw her, the breath was knocked from my lungs by her striking beauty. Her blonde hair is always styled in soft curls, and her green eyes look dark against her pale skin. The freckles scattered over her nose complement her features.
Not to mention, the woman has curves in all the right places and an ass that makes my palm itch. Especially when she fucks up or gives me attitude.
But the attraction has vanished over the past two weeks because she’s done nothing but aggravate the living shit out of me.
We step into the elevator, and I catch the soft vanilla scent of her perfume as she stands next to me. The top of her head reaches my chin, and I guess without the high heels she’s wearing, she’d reach my shoulder.
She keeps shifting her weight from one foot to the other, giving me the impression her shoes are hurting her.
The silence is thick and filled with a world of tension as we ride down to the ground floor.
As the doors slide open, and she hurries out of the elevator, I say, “Bring comfortable shoes to wear when you’re sitting at your desk. Maybe then you’ll be less moody.”
The sound of heels tapping on the tiles stops, and she swings around to face me with a barely contained glare. “I’ve been nothing but respectful, Mr. Vitale. Maybe you should take your own suggestion and wear comfortable shoes, seeing as you’re the moody one.”
She turns around, her hair flying over her shoulders, and hurries toward the exit with her spine stiff and her head held high.
My eyes burn on the woman who has more guts than brains for speaking like that to me because I’m her employer.
But if she knew who I really am – one of the heads of the Cosa Nostra, then she’d know just how brave or stupid she’s being.
My employees live in a different world where the closest they ever get to the mafia is when they watch The Godfather.
Shaking my head, I walk to the exit, where Lorenzo and Milo are waiting for me. They’re my guards, and whenever I’m at Vitale Health, my medical supply company, they work in the security room.
The two men have been with me since I was eighteen, and they’ve become family.
“You can’t fire her,” Milo reminds me. “You’ve already gone through four assistants this year, and a fifth will reflect poorly on you.”
Shaking my head, I mutter, “If she doesn’t get her shit together in the next two weeks, I’m firing her ass, and you can take over as my assistant.”
“Fuck, no,” Milo chuckles. “I’d much rather take a bullet than subject myself to that kind of torture.”
A frown darkens my forehead. “Are you telling me I’m a nightmare to work for?”
We step out of the air-conditioned building and into the hot evening air.
Christ, I can’t wait for winter.
Milo opens the backdoor to the G-Wagon and grins at me. “Only when you’re in the office.”
I glance at Lorenzo, who’s been quiet. “Do you agree with Milo?”
He holds up his hands in the universal sign for I-want-no-part-in-this. “I’m Switzerland.”