“Hello,” I call out, hoping not to catch him in a compromising position. Again.
“Oh, it’s you,” he growls.
Okey-dokey, it looks like his mood hasn’t gotten any better. That tone of voice he’s taking with me stings a bit.
“I have your coffee.” He turns and looks at me, then takes the offending mug out of my hands. “I guess you can do your job, after all.” I let that barb go over me and channel my mantra of ‘I will not kill my boss’ take over.
“Yes. It’s amazing what you can achieve when there aren’t any hazards on the floor.” Those blue eyes flare over his coffee cup, but he doesn’t say anything. “Actually, I need to grab some new pictures for your social media. Your fans are wanting more of you.” I give him an enthusiastic smile hoping it’s not going to turn into an argument.
“No.”
“Yes,” I reply back.
He raises an eyebrow, surprised that I dare to disagree with him.
“No,” he says the word more forcibly this time.
“Yes. And I can do this ping-pong match of words all day if you like. It’s no problem for me, but I’ll get what I want.” He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Can you pretend to be painting, and I’ll take a couple of snaps now. You won’t even know I’m here.” I shake the phone in my hand.
“I do not pretend to paint.”
Oh my God, I internally roll my eyes at him so hard I’m sure they are lodged in the back of my skull. “Well, then just paint, and I’ll snap away.”
Louis doesn’t move, he simply sips his coffee, slowly, in silence, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.
I will not kill my boss. I say this mantra over and over trying to keep calm.
I don’t cope well with silence, and I’ll always want to put an end to it. “So, what have you been working on?” I try to take a look at his canvas but can’t really see past him.
“Nothing of importance.”
Ugh, this man is infuriating. He takes another sip of his coffee, slowly.
Okay, two can play this game. I pick up my cell and take a snapshot of him sipping his coffee.
“What the hell? Emily!” He glares at me.
“I need a candid picture, and now I’ve got it. I can leave you in peace. Thanks.” I give him a smile and waltz out of the studio, and on the way out, I can hear him cursing in the background while I do a little happy dance.
There’s more than one way to skin a cat.
13
Emily
Tonight is Louis’ first social event since I started working with him a month ago. I’m quite nervous because I’m not sure what to expect. Well, I know what to expect from Louis—no double he’ll be a dick, probably drinking too much, maybe trying to bring home some kind of skanky woman—it will be no different to any other night at Casa la Groupies.
I pleaded with Daniel to come with me because I don’t trust Louis, but he had business in Dubai or something, which is kind of convenient but couldn’t be helped. As Louis’ assistant, I have to keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t mess up by making the front page of a gossip magazine again for all the wrong reasons. Basically, I am babysitting a full-grown man, and I’m hoping, no praying, that I’ll be able to control him.
I even asked Gabriel if he wanted to be my plus one for the evening. Unfortunately, I couldn’t even pay him to accompany me. So, I’m all on my own tonight. I can do this. I’m overthinking it. It’s going to be fine. How much trouble can Louis seriously get into at a private party?
What the hell am I saying? That man can get into plenty.
The party is at some rich guy’s home. I’m not sure what the party is for as nothing was mentioned in the invitation. Maybe they’re celebrating being rich or some other indulgent rubbish. Daniel assured me there would be influential art collectors there tonight, and he believes it will be a good way to reintroduce Louis back into society, slowly.
“What the hell are you wearing?” Louis glares at me as I make my way down the stairs.
“What?” I look down at my dress. I’ve chosen a chambray shirt dress with a cute pair of cream wedges. My strawberry blonde hair is pulled up in a messy bun, and my makeup is natural. I think I look cute. Louis is dressed in a pair of dark denim jeans and a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up showing off his tanned arms. He looks effortlessly casual. Damn him.
“You look like you’re wearing a tent.”
I look down at myself again. I guess I could put a belt with it. What the hell am I thinking? I don’t give a stuff what a man thinks about my clothes. I feel good. Toby used to do that to me all the time, and I’d immediately change into something that made him feel good.
“What does it matter to you?” I pull the strap of my bag up over my shoulder.
“Because you work for me.”
“Exactly, I work for you. I most certainly don’t dress for you.” I ignore his asshole stare.
“You represent me and this…” he waves his hands in the air, “… isn’t how I want to be represented.”
“I’ll remember this conversation when you’re obnoxiously drunk tonight because people are going to be talking more about that than what your assistant is wearing.”
He lets out a frustrated huff, turns on his toes, and stomps out to his car.
Emily - 2
Louis - 1
We arrive at the luxury home, which juts out and hangs along the rugged coastline. The driveway is filled with every man’s dream car. There are millions of dollars’ worth of ostentatious wealth laid out before us. I can
