His Assistant Obsession: An Age-Gap Romance (His Obsession), page 1
His Assistant Obsession
AN AGE-GAP INSTALOVE
GIA BAILEY
Copyright © 2022 by Gia Bailey
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
His Obsession Series
1. Eden
2. Khan
3. Eden
4. Khan
5. Eden
6. Khan
7. Eden
8. Eden
9. Khan
10. Eden
11. Eden
12. Eden
13. Khan
Epilogue
Gia Bailey
Also by Gia Bailey
His Obsession Series
His Obsession series features obsessed heroes who will stop at nothing to win the object of their obsession. If you love OTT possessive heroes chasing the bad-ass, sassy women who torment them, then you’ll love His Obsession series. Extra OTT, extra spicy and always HEA.
His Student Obsession
His Au Pair Obsession
His Assistant Obsession
His Beauty Queen Obsession
His Ballerina Obsession
CHAPTER 1
Eden
Ok, so maybe my roommate’s stripper heels weren’t the best choice for my first day of my new temp job, but it was these or battered sneakers. As I wobbled into the elevator, heading for HR, I wasn’t sure sneakers wouldn’t have been the wiser choice.
After a ten-minute meeting, and finding out my assignment, I was sure I’d made the wrong choice.
Twentieth floor.
Mr Aslan’s office.
The CEO’s office… and I was wearing stripper heels.
Hey, at least they were black.
In the year that I’d been temping, I’d worked in a whole lot of fancy, high-rise offices right in the heart of the city. They were all interchangeable after a certain amount of time, minimalist, sleek, facelessly corporate. Aslan Securities was different. For one, it wasn’t all glass and white walls inside. The hallways were decked in rich, vibrant colours, and the floors were warm, polished wood. Art lined the walls, and not boring, office art-lite, but real paintings. Evocative and even thought-provoking, I found myself stopping to stare at more than one. In my long past days of being a fine arts student, I’d have loved to linger over the interesting choices, but today, I had a job to do. The time in my life for wandering around art galleries was long gone.
By the time I reached the top floor, the shoes were already pinching my feet. It was terrible timing. For a year, I’d had a trusty pair of black flats to wear to work, which while being ugly as sin, had been totally serviceable. Last night, I’d discovered the prominent hole in the toe.
“All that money you saved walking to work instead of taking the bus and now you have to buy new shoes. It’s a false economy, I’m telling you!” Margot, my roommate, and friendly personal critic had remarked, before handing over the torture chambers currently strapped to my feet.
I reached Aslan’s end of the office. I say end, as from the entryway to his assistant’s desk, outside a huge wooden door, was enough space for another department altogether. When I got there, the assistant desk was busy, with a young guy about my age packing things into a box.
“If you’re wondering why there’s so much space to tramp through between the elevator and here, you’ve not met your new boss yet,” the man remarked. “I’m Luke, the ghost of your future,” he deadpanned, holding a hand out to me. He looked me up and down and pulled a sympathetic face. “Oh honey, Mr Aslan is going to eat you alive. You might even last less time than me, and I set a record,” he said.
Ok, so this wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear in the first few minutes of work, but I was used to people underestimating me.
“I’m sure it’ll be ok, if not, hey, at least you don’t have to put up with him,” I said with a bright smile. Terminal cheerfulness was my go to in times of trouble. Nothing annoyed people more than an intimidatingly cheerful disposition. Luke narrowed his eyes at me.
“Don’t get me wrong, I wish you no ill will. I’m just bitter,” he said with a sigh, clearing the rest of things into the box. I softened toward him a fraction.
“I get it. I’m just a temp though, so I don’t expect much,” I told him, sinking onto the edge of the desk to take the pressure of my toes.
“That’s good. Keep your expectations low, and Aslan will still terrify you,” Luke muttered, and then seemed to pause, thinking a moment. “In fact, grab a notepad and let me help you out. We don’t have long, quick.”
I dug one out of my bag, intrigued.
“So, he likes his coffee hot, scaldingly hot, and his minutes need to be on his desk twenty to thirty minutes before he tells you he needs them. Do not, under any circumstances, put through a call from someone he doesn’t want to speak to. That includes random press, friends, family, dates… anyone who isn’t on his list for the day. It doesn’t matter how urgent it sounds.”
I scribbled away as Luke spoke. Most of this seemed like common sense, but it was good to know how much of a stickler the boss would be, before learning first hand.
“Don’t bring private issues into work, don’t cough, or look sick around him, or smile too much,” Luke finished.
“Smile too much?”
“Yeah, he hates it.”
“I’m a smiley person, and I’m pretty sure that isn’t a fireable offence,” I said, folding the notepad and tucking it into my bag.
“You’d be surprised. Good luck, you’re going to need it,” Luke said, gathering up his box, and saluting me. He wandered away down the endless hall toward the far away elevator and I turned my attention to the empty desk. As I sat down and adjusted my chair, I heard a commotion coming from the hall. A deep voice spoke, a rapid fire monologue. The next moment, a dark head appeared, and then the rest of him. Hot damn. This was Khan Aslan? The man who strode through the space before me was tall and broad, his black suit fitting his powerful build perfectly. He walked with a confidence that I’d never seen before. It was reserved only for mafia dons in TV shows and billionaire athletes. He looked like a man who knew his place, his worth, and he’d show you, if you dared question it. I couldn’t focus on his words. They were rattling out his stubbled lips, ten to the dozen. He turned his head toward me as he strode past and stopped mid-step. His skin was a warm gold, and his dark eyebrows drew down in a slash of curiosity, over eagle like grey eyes. He was handsome in a way that punched me in the gut. I sat up straighter as he lowered the phone from his ear and stared at me. I felt completely laid bare by that look. He took in my hair, and face, my neck, and down, my shoulders, across my arms. A scowl remained in place on his impressive brow the entire time.
“You are not Lewis,” he said finally, once his eyes had inspected every inch of me in sight. Lewis?
“Erm, I think you mean Luke,” I offered, unsure of what else to say. His frown deepened. “Yes, you’re right. I’m not Lewis. My name is Eden Davis. I’m your new assistant,” I said, standing up to offer him my hand. He stared at it like I had offered him a coiled snake to hold. Slowly, with deadly grace, he approached. Up close, the man was even more beautiful. He had a scar across his eyebrow, and one white line bisecting his top lip, very faint, and old, and yet, it gave him an air of danger. He held out his hand to shake mine, and I spied the hint of black ink hiding just up his cuff.
“Eden Davis,” he repeated.
“Yes, you can call me Eden if you’re so inclined,” I babbled away. Once more, that frown flashed across his expressive features. “What should I address you as?” I asked, knowing it was always better to handle these things up front.
“Mr Aslan will suffice,” he said, in that deep, low voice that was made of pure alpha maleness. Right, well, that put me in my place. I nodded, keeping a pleasant smile on my face. His hand gripped mine, and it was warm. Hell, his skin was downright hot, and his palm enveloped my hand entirely. This man was big all over, and I was sure that these hands were going to feature in some extremely unprofessional fantasies later. Too bad he was king asshole, according to his former assistant.
“Of course, Mr Aslan. Is there anything you need me to do for you just now?” I asked, plastering on my most professional veneer. Bounce your bad mood of that, you grinch.
“Your job,” Khan Aslan said, before dropping my hand as if I’d burned him. He turned and strode into his office, and the door banged unceremoniously behind him. Well, that was that. A great first meeting, if I’d ever had one. It was so quiet in the wake of his violent energy that I could have almost believed I’d imagined him, if not for the subtle scent of his expensive cologne suffusing the air in his wake. I tried not to breathe it in too much as I sat down and turned on the computer on the desk. I took a deep breath, my temper rising at being so summarily dismissed in the first few minutes of meeting my new boss, and forced it out through my nose, holding my rictus smile in place. This was temporary, a month at the most. Kill them with kindness, Eden. Kill him with kindness.
CHAPTER 2
Khan
“Who is the new assistant?” I nearly barked into my phone, safely out of earshot in my sound pr
“Why? Did she quit already? Damn it, Khan,” Estie complained. Estie had been with me from the start, and because of that, she had earned privileges that few others held. For one, I didn’t fire her every day, as I was usually tempted to.
“Not yet, but I want to know who she is, where she’s worked before… everything,” I said, turning my attention to the glass wall that separated us. Miss Davis was looking through emails, clicking efficiently on each, and either marking them as important, or deleting them. She was already getting more work done than Luke.
“And why is that?” Elaine wondered.
“I don’t need a reason,” I reminded her. She sighed dramatically again and hung up. Insolent brat. I put down the phone and opened my laptop. The urge to look out the glass at the assistant station was nearly overwhelming. I should fog it, remove the temptation. Despite knowing that, I didn’t. No one had prepared me for coming to work this morning, same as usual, and being assailed with a woman like that first thing in the morning. She was lovely. Simply lovely. I was no stranger to beautiful things. I surrounded myself with them in the office and at home. After years of ugliness, growing up in the poorest, most grey and desperate places, I had longed for a way to remind myself every day that I was no longer that desperate street kid who had looked through the windows of department stores and wondered if there was really anyone who lived liked those displays. Art fed the mind and soul, and I wanted my employees to feel that electricity and creativity. I needed it.
Eden Davis looked like she belonged in one of those window displays. I watched her as she stood up, wobbling slightly on her ridiculously high heels. She smoothed down the plain jane black dress she was wearing, shook her long, dark hair back, and turned toward my office.
She knocked. It wasn’t hesitant or shy. It was surprisingly forceful. That was unexpected, and I liked it.
“Come,” I called, and sat back in my chair to watch her. She entered on those overly high heels.
“Mr Aslan, I just wanted to run through your schedule today. You have a nine o'clock with marketing.”
“That was cancelled yesterday,” I told her. A frown of irritation flurried across her face. No doubt Luke, my former lackluster assistant, hadn’t bothered to cross it off. She drew a line through it on her pad of paper and forged on.
“Ok, then there’s an HR meeting at eleven to talk about the new benefits package,” she continued. I nodded. She ran through my overloaded schedule and while her eyes were busy, I took my time looking at her. My entire body reacted to the sight of this woman. She would be a terrible distraction. She looked young. Too young for me, without a doubt, and yet, I couldn’t look away.
She was fidgeting on her feet, shifting her weight subtly from one foot to the other, her long, slim legs flexing as she did.
“Ok, if that’s all for now, I’ll leave you to get on,” she said, and turned, nearly twisting her ankle in the process. I fought the sudden, insane urge to lunge across the office and catch her.
“That’s all, and make sure you wear proper footwear tomorrow,” I bit out at her. “Waiting to see if you’re going to snap your ankle in half is a distraction I don’t need.” I turned to look at my phone.
“With all due respect, Mr Aslan, don’t look. I can take care of my own ankle and shoe choices,” she said quietly. My eyes snapped to hers. She was staring at me defiantly. So defiantly, I set down my phone and leaned forward on the desk, bracing my elbows on the smooth antique wood. I was transfixed by that look. No one spoke to me that way. No one.
“As long as you work for me, you represent me and my company. If your shoe choices are inappropriate, then I will look and tell you so. This is a company, Miss Davis, not a nightclub,” I told her firmly. Her nostrils flared and her fists clenched into balls at her side before releasing. I watched her with rapt attention. I felt a flare of excitement ignite low in my gut. What was this little firecracker going to do? I couldn’t wait to find out. Then, just when I thought she’d blow her top, and predictably move in a zig motion, she zagged. A smile with the sunniness of a supernova coated her lips, and she beamed at me.
“Of course, Mr Aslan. You’re the boss, after all,” she said sweetly, and turned on her precarious heel, and strode out the room, leaving me in my place, watching her go.
CHAPTER 3
Eden
The first day of any new job was exhausting, but today was worse than usual. Today set a new bar. I was no stranger to adversity, or getting along with difficult people. My mother was a prime example. We hadn’t spoken in nearly a year. Just the thought weighed me down even further as I walked down the street from the subway.
I headed home, weary and worn-out from the constant effort of smiling and acting like my new bosses’ exacting standards weren’t insane. The man was a monster. In my bag, I had wine, and a pair of cheap flat ballerina pumps I’d seen on sale on the way home. I trudged up the five-floor walk-up to the apartment I shared with Margot and sagged dramatically through the doorway, kicking off the offensive shoes finally. Then I headed straight for the kitchen. Inside, Margot was cooking, as she usually was, as a budding chef, and the room smelled of garlic and tomatoes, making my stomach growl. I pulled the wine out of the bag, cracked the screw top and took a glug straight from the bottle.
“It went that well, huh?” Margot commented, watching me down several long pulls, before pulling back and making a face at the acidic flavor of the cheapest wine in the shop. She reached out and grabbed the bottle when I went to put it back and turned to the salad she was making in a vast bowl. She shook the bottle over it.
“Hey! Did you just use my wine as salad dressing?” I demanded, sinking into a chair.
“I’m out of vinegar,” she explained, and sniffed it before coughing.
“Don’t be dramatic. It’s fine. I like my wine with a kick,” I told her, taking the bottle back and sipping it. Ok, well, she might have a point. It was vile, but it was calming.
“So, how’s Aslan Securities? Did your new boss notice your shoes?”
“He noticed, and he’s not a fan, apparently. He told me it’s an office, not a club,” I told Margot. Her eyes widened.
“Really? What an asshole.”
“You wouldn’t even believe what an asshole he is, and the worst part… he’s so pretty I want to die,” I complained at her. Margot burst out laughing at that. “You know, beautiful men are my weakness. It’s not fair.”
“You’ve just spent too long studying marble statues with impressive junk and calling it work. It’s an addiction. You need to detox and go on ten dates with some classic tinder bathroom selfie-guys. That will fix you.”
“Fix me how?”
“It’ll remind you that men are pigs, even the hot ones.”
“Margot, he’s not just hot, he’s beautiful. Then he speaks, and ruins it.”
“Yeah, that’s usually the way it is. What’s your strategy, then?”
“Strategy for what?”
“Surviving the job… beating him at his own game. I know you have one. Don’t act coy.” Margot said, nudging me. I grinned at her. Of course, I had a strategy. I always did. The best thing about an asshole was beating them at their own game.
“I do have a plan, in fact, I have several,” I told her, tapping my lip and thinking of Khan Aslan, and his judgemental, rudely sexy face.
“What are you going to do to him?” Margot asked, her eyes gleeful.
“I’m just going to do my job,” I explained. “I’m going to do it so hard, he won’t know what’s hit him.”
