Julia

It is going to be a good day. 

Fantastic even, I grin at myself foolishly while drawing the curtains open and letting the sun flood my room.

It's quarter to seven, and I'm already in a bubble of excitement. I pull my hair into a high ponytail and then step into my black pumps. Today's outfit consists of a skin-tight, maroon, long-sleeved business shirt and black, high-waisted business pants. I keep my jewellery and makeup to a minimum.

Apart from the shirt, the only other splash of colour is my matching lips.

I bump into Marissa while exiting my room, who is rushing to get ready after waking up just fifteen minutes ago. Robin is still dead to the world, her arm hanging off the sofa after she'd stayed up all night proofreading.

"You ready, Mar?" I ask with a sheepish grin.

Marissa hops on one foot, tugging on the back of her heels. She holds up two fingers. "Give me a second."

"You're going to break your neck jumping around like that," I sigh and grab granola bars and smoothies we'd prepped the night before. "In case you don't die, I've got your breakfast with me."

"Hey, Jules."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

I bite my lip and keep the shit-eating smile off my face.

Marissa suggested we carpool to work. The underground parking apparently fills up before eight, and it's a nightmare to find any street parking. I make sure everything is turned off and tuck a pillow under Robin's bent neck.

"Time to go, girl!" I shout out, opening the door while forever being surprised by how deeply Robin sleeps. A tornado could tear apart the room, and she'd still be snoring.

"Coming." She calls back.

I shake my head as she tugs her arms through her blazer while moving out of the apartment. Locking up, I lead the way to the basement.

Slipping behind the wheel, I begin driving while Marissa pulls down the visor and inspects her face in the mirror. With a grunt of disbelief at her dishevelled state, she pinches her cheeks and applies makeup.

Because I find her ire entertaining, I make sure to hit every traffic life and corner a little bit harder than necessary.

"Do it one more time, Julia and I'll burn your underwear." Her voice is deceptively calm. "Especially those lace ones you love."

I chuckle. "That's evil, Marissa. Messing with a woman's underwear is a crime." However, in favour of my prized possessions, I ensure the remainder of the drive is smooth.

We find a spot on B2, and I reverse into it. Killing the engine, we exit the vehicle and walk to the lift. We both press our respective floors and settle in the elevator.

"I'll meet you out front for lunch," Marissa says while rushing out on level fifteen.

I don't bother replying, knowing she's too preoccupied and well out of hearing range. People fill the elevator, exiting on random floors, and by the time I reach the top, I'm alone in the metal box.

The same lady from the other day is behind the front desk. Her name tag reads Katrina. She stands with a gentle smile as I approach her. "Good morning, Ms. Williams. Congratulations on the job."

"Julia is fine, and thank you." I return her bubbly smile.

Katrina leans forward, "You must have made an impression. There was a bit of a debate. Mr. Alfonsi himself overruled Jenkins's decision." She speaks as if she's telling me a secret, which I suppose it is, given her closed-in posture. "You better head in now... he hates tardiness."

"Thanks for the heads up. I'll see you later." I offer gratefully. She sends me a wink, and I know we are going to get along well. I pause at the frosted doors, hands on either handle. "Would you like to have lunch together with a friend and I?"

"I'd love that." Katrina grins and then nods towards the doors.

I push through, and instantly, the soft, melodic reception music falls silent. There is a large lounge area that leads into hallways with a few additional office spaces, which in turn end in another set of doors. These are completely misted over.

My phone buzzes in my purse, but I leave it unattended as I continue forward. The plush carpet beneath softens my steps. Light streams in from all the glass windows, and I put on my big boy pants as I knock on the final set of doors.

A few seconds of silence later, a low, muffled voice trickles through the partition. "Come in."

I push through the doors and step inside the ridiculously oversized office. The doors swing back heavily behind me, locking me in the room with my boss.

Scanning the room and coming to a stop on the large profile standing at the wall-to-ceiling window, he's facing away from me, and he's muttering curses into the phone pressed to his ear. I take a moment to appreciate just how tall, muscular and attractive his broad back is. I thought CEOs were meant to be old, overweight and definitely not a delicious six-foot-five.

He doesn't acknowledge my entry, and this lights little nervous fireflies in my stomach. Even without his attention on me, his presence alone is enough to cause my palms to sweat. I break my perusal of his tight ass and long legs.

There's a black frosted glass table opposite the door I'm standing in front of, with thick wooden legs and gold accents, and behind it, a luxurious chair that I'm sure costs a small fortune. Across from the windows is a seating area, and behind that is a bar with another door beside it.

I wait patiently for him to finish his call. Keeping my spine straight and my eyes on him like he might suddenly detonate.

Seconds tick into minutes, and finally, he ends the call.

Not many things cause me to become speechless... but my boss turning around and looking me dead in the eye with familiar emerald irises has me gobsmacked. My eyes enlarge, and I release a breath.

What. The. Fuck.

His expression remains flat and cold. "Ms. Williams." He walks towards me and holds out a hand. I look at it like it'll bite me.

"It's good to see you here early. We never got the chance to introduce ourselves properly last night."

I hesitantly reach out to shake his hand. His fingers curl around my fist entirely. "You're Red Alfonsi."

"Yes." That one word, husky, purred in that exotic accent has my knees buckling.

Don't you dare fucking faint, Jules! Get it together. If he can play it cool, so can you. A flashback of my word vomit in the elevator the first time we met hits me. Oh my god! "About what I said-"

Red cuts me off. "Don't worry, Julia. I'm not as strict as you imagine, guessing by the paling of those cheeks."

Can the earth just open wide and swallow me now?

I flush. "Oh."

He shows me mercy. "Take today to familiarise yourself with the workload, Julia." Red releases my hand, and instantly, it feels cold.

I snap out of my daze and try not to drown in his scent. Looking up, I realise the top of my head barely meets his chest. "Thank you for the opportunity, Mr Alfonsi. I won't disappoint."

His dark eyes scrutinise me. He makes no move to hide his blatant starring. A very unprofessional current of desire makes its way to my toes. Thankfully, he turns and walks towards his desk. Long strides kill the space.

Sitting down, he grabs a pile of items. I take note of them. Laptop. Dairy. Phone. "These are yours. The laptop is already set up, and the phone has all the contacts you'll need in it."

I waste no time in moving forward and accepting the supplies he is holding out to me. "Breathe, Julia, I don't bite." He comments as our fingers brush. "Katrina will help you settle in." He dismisses me while intercomming Katrina.

I take the hint and book it out of the room. Once I'm safe behind the glass doors, I lean against the wall and close my eyes. My body is burning. My brain is mush. The reaction to Red is new, unfamiliar and inconvenient.

What kind of name is Red...?

It's enticing.

Unique. It rolls off my tongue like a gentle caress.

I force the thought out of my mind. I need this job. Fantasies and daydreams will not pay the bills. Ignoring the tingling of my skin where he touched, I walk back down the hall in time for Katrina to enter the space.

"You survived!" She teases. I nod. "The office next to Mr. Alfonsi's is yours. Let's put your things down, and then I'll take you down to Mrs. Jenkins for orientation."

* * *

I try to act neutral as Fiona Jenkins looks up at me from her desk. I remember what Katrina had told me. This lady wasn't going to hire me.

"Miss. Williams, welcome to the team. Have you met Red?"

I nod politely. "I have."

"Great. I'll show you all the departments first. In your office, I've left a folder with your job description, expectations and upcoming calendar." I nod and trail after her.

Fiona remains calm and emotionless as she introduces me to different groups of staff, and I try to memorise everything she says furiously.

An hour later, I'm walking back through the large glass doors into my office.

I found the brief she left.

My job is straightforward: taking calls, scheduling appointments, filtering correspondence, and assisting Mr. Alfonsi as needed. Seems easy enough. I practice with the landline, ensuring I know how to make and transfer calls. Then, I familiarize myself with the company programs.

By mid-day, I'm completely famished and thoroughly educated on Alfonsi International Architecture & Design Group.

I type a letter to one of Red's clients and schedule a meeting with another. Feeling more comfortable with the job, some of the unease and butterflies fly away. At twelve-thirty, I push up to my feet and knock on Red's office twice.

After a moment, I step inside. He looks up from his folder expectantly.

"I'm about to head out and grab lunch. Do you have any specific tastes?"

He seems surprised, cocking his head slightly, he says. "Yes, Miss. Williams, but I'll be fine with having whatever you are getting."

Don't secretaries grab lunch for their bosses?

I nod and leave him, feeling that itching burns under my skin. Clearly, I cannot stay in his presence for longer than a few minutes. It's not exactly ideal, being his EA and all.

Katrina is already waiting for me, a young man in his twenties sitting behind her desk. We head downstairs and find Marissa waiting in the lobby. Stepping out into the busy street, Marissa takes us to her favourite Greek restaurant.

I order my meal and then get the same in a takeaway container.

The girls bombard me with questions, asking me if I like the job, and I give them a very boring recap, leaving out my ridiculous attraction to our CEO.

Lunch ends, and I grab the takeaway bag filled with a steak wrap, salad and fresh tropical juice. "Who is that for?" Marissa questions as we walk back to the office.

"Red," I reply. "Don't give me that look. It's literally in my job description."

She wiggles her eyebrows, "First name basis, hey... Aren't you such a giving employee?"

"I'm going to shave those damn things off if you keep moving them like that," I bite back before running into a closing elevator and shooting her a look.

She grins manically in response.

The flush doesn't leave my body. If anything, it intensifies when I stop outside Red's office. I brace myself, but before I can knock, I hear something crash. Politeness goes out the window, and I barge in.

"What happened!? Are you okay?" The words are panicky, and I tell myself this is a normal level of concern. In my rush to see if he is okay, I miss the second person in the room. But once my brain catches up to my surroundings, I blanch. "Oh my god, I'm sorry," I mumble and then spin on my heels and practically run out of the room.

Shoving into my office, I place the takeaway bag on the desk and then sink into the chair, covering my face as what I just walked into runs like a movie behind my eyelids.

A literal model—and I mean a real model who I recognise from a famous lingerie brand, hell, one of my favourite brands—sitting on Red's desk. Her hand trailed down his chest while he leaned back in his seat, clearly comfortable with the gorgeous woman's attention.

The smash must've been a cup or something knocked over in their heated interaction. Sheer embarrassment, along with something else I couldn't quite name, hit me. I plan to bury myself in work, but moments later, a lean, tall, feminine figure stops at my open office door.

Maybe they'd been finishing up... Should he really be fucking a woman in his office in the middle of the day? Not that it matters. He's my boss and one of the wealthiest men in the country. He can do whatever the fuck he likes.

If she's leaving, why is she stopping in on me?

Carmen fucking Price walks into my office and stops in front of my desk. She straightens her skirt, giving me a practised smile. "Sorry about that."

She doesn't seem sorry.

"It is none of my business, Ms. Price." I return her fake-ass smile and stand. "Did you need anything else?" I ask her politely as I walk her to the door.

Every bit of me craves to let the heavy piece of glass hit her on the way out, but I grip it tightly and wait for her to step into the hallway. "Oh no, darling. I'm in a rush. I just wanted to apologise for what you saw. I always tell Red to lock the door."

Well then, off you trot, you perfect, no fat having, gorgeous specimen.

My smile hurts my cheeks because it's so forced. "Oh, that, forgotten."

Bitterness contorts her sharp features, and she doesn't give me any more ammunition. Her heels dent the carpet as she strides away, extra swing in her hips and fist clenching the leather of her clutch.

I grab the damn food off my desk, and this time, I knock loudly on Red's office. I don't move until he calls out.

When I step inside, Red is messing around with his tie. Unable to make eye contact, I walk forward and place his lunch on the black glass. I notice the broken glass beside his laptop and begin collecting the pieces.

"What are you doing?"

Designer shoes stop next to me, his shadow falling over mine and the tie long forgotten. "Cleaning this up."

"Stop, you'll cut yourself."

"It's fine. I'm almost done."

As I go to pick up another piece, his large, strong hand wraps around my forearm. "I said stop." This time, it's an order, a forceful one. The shock of his touch causes the glass to slip, and on its descent, it slices my index finger.

"Ouch!" I hiss, looking down as beads of blood leak out of the minor laceration.

"Fucking hell, Julia!" Red tugs me into his arms unconsciously. He probably has no idea his chest is pressing into my back, and my body feels like it's an inferno being doused with gallons of fuel.

My mind muddles, and I try to bring space between us. "I'm fine."

Red ignores me. Instead, banding one arm around my waist and using his free hand to hold my injured one captive. He analyses it. Then he walks us to the door beside the bar. Pushing into an ensuite, Red directs us to the beautiful marble basin.

He places my hand under the tap. His large muscular frame remains flush against my back as he stands behind me, holding my cut finger under the stream of cold water. "If I tell you to do something, you do it. Understand?" His chest vibrates against my back, and something stirs in my stomach. "Do you understand, Julia?"

I nod. "Yes."

"I'm serious."

I bite the inside of my cheek, "I understand, Mr. Alfonsi."

"Good." He keeps hold of me, and I feel my legs turn to jello.

I'm giving reprieve when, a few minutes later, he moves away, pulling something out of the cupboards. I turn to face him, and he gives me a very unimpressed look. "Sit," he orders, looking at the closed-lid toilet.

I don't argue.

The ice melts from his expression, and for one blazing second, I see his fury. He drops to one knee and shuffles through the medical kit. Cleaning my wound, he wraps a small dressing around it.

"Thank you," I mumble.

Red doesn't respond. His thumb strokes my palm before he releases my hand like it's offended him. Standing, he leaves me in the bathroom. I don't waste any time, as I dislike the sudden awkwardness. "Enjoy your lunch," I say, passing him and hiding back in my office.

It's two in the afternoon and Red's next appointment is here.

I greet him in the lounge, "Mr. Alfonsi will be ready in a few minutes. Would you like a tea or coffee?"

Wyatt Ashford is around the same age as Red. Mid-thirties with a bit of salt in his pepper hair and stubble, giving his polished look a little edge. He stands at six feet two inches, and it doesn't go unnoticed that he's devilishly handsome.

The smirk on his lips tells me he knows this fact all too well. "You're a new face?"

"This is my first week," I reply. "Would you like something to drink, Mr. Ashford?"

He shakes his head. "No, thank you, beautiful." I flush at his compliment, and his smirk deepens. "Call me Wyatt. What's your name, sweetheart?" He leans against the sofa while I lean against the beverage bar.

"Julia Williams," I fidget with the ring on my uninjured index finger.

Just then, the glass door to Red's office opens, "sir." I straighten up from my relaxed position and turn to face him.

Red expression wilts as he looks between Wyatt and me. His glare intensifies, taking in Wyatt's flirtatious grin. "Wyatt." He grunts the greeting with heavy annoyance. He turns to head back into his office and Wyatt throws me a quick wink.

"Would you like any refreshments?" I trail behind them.

"No." Red lets Wyatt enter his office and then looks at me, "he won't be here long."

Is this a serious meeting?

From my notes, Wyatt is an old friend of Red's. They've been in partnership for almost a decade.

"Okay." I watch his door close and then sit down at my desk and continue with the summary I was creating before Mr. Ashford's arrival. I've only begun the second paragraph when Red's door opens.

He wasn't kidding. Only seven minutes have passed. Wyatt walks out and pauses at my office with Red on his heels. I stand up and move to them. Wyatt holds his hand out, and I politely shake it.

"It's been a pleasure meeting you, beautiful."

"The pleasure is all mine." I smile up at him professionally.

Red clears his throat. "You should hit the road. Traffic is a nightmare around this time." And then, for good measure, he places a palm on Wyatt's shoulder and directs him to the exit.

Before Mr. Ashford leaves, he lingers long enough to say, "I've known Red for quite some time. Don't let his cold exterior get to you."

With that, Wyatt grins wolfishly and leaves me with a very brooding, very irritable boss.

"Don't get too comfortable with the clients, Miss. Williams." Red's deep voice has me turning around real damn fast. His fists are clenching at his sides, and an arrogant glint shines through his eyes.

I step back in shock and intimidation. "My apologies, Sir. But I can assure you my interaction with Mr. Ashford was professional and polite." There I go ago, quick-lipped. I instantly bite my tongue.

Way to go, Jules... Snapping at the boss that's one way to get fired!

Red glares at me for a moment before he shakes his head, confusion in his eyes. "Very well." He runs a tired hand across his jaw, "can you please make me a coffee, Julia?" He sighs.

"Of course."

Red moves to his office, and I release a thankful sigh. I prepare a simple concoction and then create a design with the frothed milk and powdered chocolate.

I move from the small beverage kitchen after placing the cup on a tray with some shortbreads. Holding the tray carefully, I make my way to him.

Red doesn't look up when I enter.

The buzzing in my blood intensifies, and I feel jittery. As my fortune will have it, just as I am about to reach the desk, my heel catches, and the tray slips from my hand.

Red moves quickly. His body blurs as I brace for impact that never comes.

Thick, muscular arms wrap around me, and I feel the hot coffee burn through my shirt and probably his, too. I cling to him for a moment, but before I can do anything, he's already tugging at my shirt and trying to pull it off.

"Merda! Take this off!" He curses in his mother tongue, commanding me to remove the blistering blouse.