“What’s the occasion?” I took off my jacket and sat behind my desk.
“Three things, actually.” He poured two glasses and walked over, handing me one. “For one, the most obvious, you’ve had the best year for any publisher in the country.”
“Two, you’ve gone an entire year without appearing on the cover of a tabloid or getting involved in any sex scandals.”
“That shouldn’t be an accomplishment, Brad.”
“It is when it comes to you. Trust me.”
I tried to think of the third thing and beat him to it, but I didn’t have a clue as to what it could be.
“And three...” he said. “You’ve seemingly done the impossible. You’ve kept the same executive assistant for over a year. You can thank me a million times later for finding Mya London.”
I tossed back my drink at the sound of her name and rolled my eyes. I was considering walking right back into that boardroom and telling her to bend over the chair.
Or maybe I should fuck on her the table...No. The floor...
“Um. Hello?” Brad waved his hand in front of my face. “Are you there, Michael?”
“My apologies. What were you saying?”
“I was saying that it’s quite ironic that the one time you find an assistant who lasts a year, she decides to leave.” He laughed. “Crazy, right? I’ll make sure we find someone half as good when she leaves.”
“What? What do you mean when she leaves?”
He tossed back his drink. “She put me down as a reference for a few jobs she’s received interviews for and they’ve left voicemails requesting me to call and answer a few of their questions.” He pulled out his phone. “Speaking of which, I need to schedule those at some point tomorrow.”
“Which companies?” My blood was suddenly boiling.
“The usual thieves of great employees.” He laughed again. “Apple, Microsoft, and Amazon.”
“And why the hell didn’t she—” I changed my tone. “Why didn’t she use me for a reference?”
Or even fucking tell me she was leaving?
He shrugged. “Probably assumed you’re busy enough and you wouldn’t have time to call the people back. Or, maybe she rightfully assumed that I’m the better choice.”
He changed the subject and started talking about our next quarter projections, but I could only halfway listen. I was furious at the audacity of Mya to even think about leaving.
I was paying her more than double what I paid any of my previously EAs—deservedly so, and her benefits package was specifically tailored for her: The day I found out she loved and preferred the hardback version of novels, I added a mandate to her contract that she receive five hundred dollars’ worth of hardback books per month from any bookstore she wanted. The day I found out she didn’t have her own car and was taking a cab back and forth to work and conferences? I added a mandate to her contract that gave her unlimited access to her own private town car and driver. (No other executive assistant in the building had ever had his or her own town car, and I’d made sure no one else in the company knew about this arrangement. Even Brad.) And the day I found out she’d actually wanted to be a professional assistant and eventually rise to the ranks of CEO of a company someday, I thought I’d found a highly potential business partner for the future.
But now, I wasn’t so sure. Add that to the fact that she wouldn’t even tell me that she was considering quitting?
This was fucked up.
This was war.
“So, I’m thinking.” Brad was still babbling. “If we put more of an investment into the audio production for the second quarter of next year—”
“How much are the other companies offering her as a salary?” I cut him off. “Are they paying significantly more than we are?”
“What?” He stepped back. “Did you hear any of what I said over the past five minutes?”
“Not at all.” I didn’t even try to pretend otherwise. “How much are they paying her?”
He blinked.
“Actually, don’t even answer that,” I said. “Forward me those company inquiries, and any other new ones you may get. I’ll be her reference...”
THE BOSS
Michael
Manhattan, New York
“Here’s every report you requested, your print out of next month’s front-list, and your coffee.” Mya set down a mug and a stack of folders in front of me the following afternoon. She was wearing a bright blue dress that clung to her hips and exposed the top of her breasts, and my cock had been hard the second I saw her this morning.
Even during her presentation to the interns hours ago, I’d sat still in the boardroom and tried to focus on anything else while words left her alluring mouth, but it was no use. The thoughts of bending her over every surface in my office were only getting worse by the day.
“Would you like anything else, Mr. Leighton?” She adjusted her exposed bra strap, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“What about the Danbury report?” I asked.
“Did it.”
“The Porterfield files?”
“Did it weeks ago.”
“Have the backlist titles from—”
“Faith Sarandon been contracted and signed?” She cut me off and crossed her arms. “Yes. As have all of the remaining backlist catalogues from the other twenty-two authors you asked me to acquire. They’re very happy with your so-called generosity. Anything else?”