Owned by the CEO

Distractions in Blue

♥ Jethro ♥

The first thing I noticed when I stepped into my office wasn’t the stack of reports on my desk or the unread messages on my phone. It was her. Chloe Samuel was sitting neatly in the chair across from my desk, her tablet balanced on her lap and a pen twirling absentmindedly between her fingers. The morning light caught the soft waves of her honey-colored hair, turning it into liquid gold. She was early. Again.

“Good morning, Mr. Jotham,” she said, her voice quiet but steady.

“Miss Samuel,” I loosened my tie as I crossed the room. “You are early,”

“I thought it best to prepare for your schedule today,” she replied, as she lifted her chin slightly. Of course she did. It irritated me, and impressed me all at once. Most new assistants floundered in their first week. Chloe didn’t flounder. She observed, adapted, and showed up earlier than I asked her to. A small, competent flame wrapped in soft-spoken elegance. I shrugged out of my coat and laid it over the back of my chair.

“Very well. What’s first?”

“You have a briefing with legal at nine, but before that, we need to discuss the trip to North Rynfield,” she said, and her fingers danced over the tablet screen as she pulled up a color-coded itinerary. North Rynfield. The mountain city where quiet power players went to disappear. I had a meeting there in two days with investors looking to build a vacation home. A foothold for their kind of wealth. People who liked to play king and queen in places no one could see them.

“Go on,” I said, as I lowered into my chair. Chloe straightened her back and started listing off details. Flight times. Accommodation options. Profiles on the investors, Elias Thorn and Beatrice Wren. Power couple. Old money. Dangerous in a way that was smooth and elegant, like the edge of a champagne flute. I was listening. Mostly. But my focus kept drifting to her lips as they shaped each word. The soft pink curve of them. The delicate line of her throat when she tilted her head to glance at her notes. And, damn, the faint, intoxicating scent of her perfume. Something floral. Clean. Alluring. She didn’t realize what she was doing to me. Or maybe she did. That was dangerous in itself.

“Do you have a preference for the flight?” she asked, and she broke my train of thought. I forced my focus back to her screen.

“Private. No commercial nonsense. Make sure catering includes Valdaine wines, they are partial to them,” Chloe nodded briskly and made the note.

“Shall I book accommodations at the summit resort, or do you prefer the villa by the lake?” she asked, and I leaned back in my seat. I watched her closely for a minute.

“Which would you choose?” I asked, and her fingers stilled on the screen.

“Sir?”

“Answer the question, Miss Samuel,” I said firmly. She blinked once, then glanced down at her tablet like she needed the numbers to speak for her.

“The summit resort is more convenient for meetings, but the lake villa offers better privacy. Given the nature of the investors, I would say they would appreciate the exclusivity,” she finally answered, and I smirked.

“Not bad,” I said. Chloe’s cheeks flushed faintly, but her gaze didn’t waver. “Book the villa. And make sure the staff are vetted. I won’t tolerate leaks,”

“Yes, sir,” she began typing again, and I watched her fingers move across the screen. Slim, graceful hands. I wondered, briefly and inappropriately, how they would feel tangled in my hair. This was madness. She was my assistant. Off-limits. Necessary. And yet every time I looked at her, I wanted to break my own rules. “You are unusually quiet today,” she said softly, surprising me.

“I’m thinking,”

“About the meeting?” she asked. No. Not about the meeting.

“Partly,” I lied. Her brows furrowed just slightly.

“Would you like me to prepare a preliminary report on Elias Thorn and Beatrice Wren? Something more in-depth than the profiles?” she asked.

“Yes. And prepare talking points for their environmental demands. They will use that as leverage,”

“I’ll handle it,” she said. Well, of course, she would. She had handled everything else. Efficient. Precise. Calm under pressure. But she didn’t know how good she smelled. Or how distracting she looked in that pale blue blouse tucked into a slim black skirt.

“Miss Samuel,”

“Yes, Mr. Jotham?”

“Tell me…what made you take this job?” I asked curiously. My question seemed to catch her off guard, and she shifted slightly in her seat.

“I wanted a challenge,” she stated simply.

“A challenge?” I leaned forward and rested my elbows on the desk. “Well…you certainly got one,”

“I believe I can handle it,” she said quietly.

“We shall see,” I said, and her lips parted like she wanted to say something more, but the sound of an incoming call on my desk phone broke the moment. “Excuse me,” I said curtly as I answered. It was Hank from HR, rambling about something that barely required my attention. I cut him off mid-sentence. “Handle it yourself. I’m occupied,” when I hung up, Chloe had gotten to her feet and was getting ready to leave. “Where are you going?” I asked. I tried to keep the curiosity out of my voice.

“You have a meeting in fifteen minutes. I’ll go prepare the conference room and print the documents you will need,”

“Sit,” I ordered softly, and she hesitated. “I said sit,” I repeated, and she obeyed, as she perched back on the chair like a bird ready to take flight. I wasn’t finished with her yet. “You have done well so far,” I said, my voice low. “But working for me is more than schedules and itineraries. It requires instinct. Discretion. The ability to think two steps ahead,” Chloe met my gaze, her brown eyes steady.

“I understand,”

“Do you?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, and her voice wavered ever so slightly. If I hadn’t been so focused on her lips, I would have missed it. I leaned back again and studied her in silence. I could practically feel the tension thickening the air between us. If I didn’t break it soon, I might do something reckless. Like close the distance between us and see if her lips tasted as soft as they looked.

“Dismissed,” I said abruptly. She stood and hurriedly gathered her tablet and files.

“I’ll confirm the villa and prepare the reports for North Rynfield,” she said, and I nodded.

“Good,” but then she paused at the door. Almost as though she wanted to say something more. Her gaze met mine, and I was awfully tempted to claim her. In every way possible. “Dismissed,” I repeated. I needed her to leave. Immediately. She finally walked out and shut the door. The scent of her lingered behind like a challenge I wasn’t sure I could ignore. And for the first time in years, I felt my focus slipping.

♥ ♥ ♥