Chapter 1 1

ROBYN

"Robyn!" The angry voice was coming from my boss, which startled me.

My heart jumped into my throat as I looked straight into the deepest abyss of his icy blue eyes, surrounded by thick black lashes, as he threw suffocating weight questions that I couldn't answer. At least, not right now. If I did, the response would not have made any difference because he was already furious.

Did I mention that he never called me by my first name?

I knew him. For the last six months, I'd been working for him as his executive assistant, and he didn't give a damn who lost jobs as long as he made money.

That's Spade Kolby. The cold-hearted, boorish, ruthless capitalist and co-founder of Zacc & Kross Ventures. He also owned and ran Emergence Capital as the president and CEO, the company I was working for.

"Did you hear me, or should I call HR for a more competent assistant?" His gaze was so focused on me with startling intensity that he didn't move or blink.

Appalled with the unfolding sense of dread, I nodded.

"Get the fuck out before I change my mind." He slumped down into his chair, picking up the coffee I had placed on his desk earlier.

"Thank you, sir." I was surprised my voice was steadier than I anticipated. I placed the folders on his desk and turned around.

I couldn't afford to lose a job now that I had more bills to pay. It was my fault anyway. I was late. Five minutes late or one minute, it didn't matter. For Spade Kolby, who had never been late in his life, it was tardiness. It was unacceptable.

I hadn't reached the door, he cursed, "This is not my coffee." Oh, shit. How did he even know that? I didn't know what James, the barista, put in his coffee when I ordered the same black coffee every morning from the same cafe.

I stood straight. "That's what made me late, sir." Though it wasn't. "James had an emergency. He wasn't there when I arrived. I waited-"

"You're lying. I don't wanna hear more excuses. Own your mistake, Miss Sharpe. You're late, then you're late." He dropped the coffee into the bin unapologetically.

I wanted to berate him for wasting food when there were millions who slept hungry and who couldn't afford a cup, but he was an asshole and didn't give a shit.

"I'll call if he's back and bring you another cup."

"No need." He picked up the folder. His nose was still flaring.

I managed to get out of his office without swearing at his face. I received phone calls, prioritized his meetings and appointments, organized his travels, detailed itineraries for the next month, and forwarded important emails to him.

If there was one thing I liked about my job was that he never contacted me on weekends. He didn't demand that I pick up his dry cleaning or send me to do his personal errands. Someone did it for himself.

I was never even called to his penthouse. If he needed something from me, he asked his driver slash bodyguard, Haddon Wave, to fetch it from me. He never asked me to arrange his personal lunch or dinner unless it was business-related.

At lunch, Piper, my redhead co-worker and best friend, joined me and placed a taco into my bowl. "You need to eat."

"I'm eating," I answered through a mouthful of salad.

"You're late again," she said between chews. "And you're losing some weight. I'm worried about you."

"I'm not." I took a huge bite of the taco while checking my phone for some messages, but there were none. "And I'm fine."

"You always came twenty minutes earlier than us, but you were late twice this week. Is your mom okay?"

I finished the taco, and Piper was still waiting for my reply. Halfway to my salad, I shrugged.

"Hey. Call me if you need my help." I felt her hand, squeezing my wrist. "I mean it, Rob. I don't have any experience taking care of sick people, but I can throw dirty laundry into the machine, I can vacuum the floor and wash dishes, you know."

"Thanks." I smiled tightly at her and breathed deeply. "Mom had a fever last night. I had to get up in the middle of the night and drive to Mom's. I came from her house this morning. I should get an update, but maybe Mom is still sleeping."

"About Barbie. It's been two months, and she has never come back or called you again?" She was talking about my best friend since college, my ex-roommate, Barbra Wilson, who left me with only a note.

"Nope. I hope she won't come back. She's a bitch." I drew a deep breath as my chest ached in anger. "If she had problems, why couldn't she open up to me?"

"You're right. How could she do that to you while you were dealing with your mom's health? I hope she didn't run away with another man. God, she's selfish." Her lips curled up in disgust.

"It's fine. My problems are my problems." My stomach dropped. Mom and I had talked about it. She knew I was left to pay the apartment alone. Since Barbie's things were still in the apartment, I couldn't just throw them away and look for another roommate.

"Have you contacted her?" Her green eyes watched me carefully.

"No. She's the one who left. Why should I?"

"Maybe you should start, Rob. So you can throw her things out into the dumpsters." She made an evil grin.

"Maybe I should throw her things away."

I went back to work after lunch. I hadn't touched the mouse, and the phone rang. The number appeared to be my boss.

I answered it right away. "Mister Kolby."

"In my office."

His office had a spectacular view of the Manhattan skyline, and he was standing at the window, a hand in his pocket. His gaze focused on the file in his hand.

What did I do this time?

"How long have you been working for me, Miss Sharpe?" Crap. I had a bad feeling about this kind of question. I could already hear the next words that would come out of his mouth.

Despite his eyes narrowing at me, I replied politely because I didn't want him to fire me. At least, not now. "Two years in marketing, six months as your assistant, sir."

"Then what the fuck is this?" He raised the file. "Do you proofread your work?"

"I do, sir."

When he turned to face me, I held my breath.

Spade was tall, in incredibly physical shape. Handsome was an understatement to describe him. He was stunning. The scarred slit on his left eyebrow made him extravagantly beautiful. He was the definition of hostile and hot, and made you tense in excitement. And the longer you stared at him, it made a flush of heat crept up your neck as your mind lingered on dirty, naughty thoughts about what those full lips could do to you.

But he was also cold. It made you shiver and breathe vapor.

"One more mistake, and you're done," he said through gritted teeth. "There are thousands of more capable applicants, so what made you so special, Miss Sharpe?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but he cut me off.

"None." Our eyes locked. There was so much darkness in his gaze- it was frightening. "So do your job or you're fired!"

"I apologize, sir. It won't happen again." I took a step closer to get the file from him. "Um, my-"

"I don't care what excuses you have. Your personal life stays outside this building. This is not a support group, and I'm not a psychologist to listen to your bullshit." Damn, he's cold, inconsiderate, and insensitive. But he was right, though.

"I'll have it done by the end of the day, sir." I dashed out of his office before he could throw more insults.

I checked the file on my computer and proofread it, which made me laugh. No wonder he was so pissed off.

"What the hell?" I blinked rapidly. There was a line in a paragraph of the report where I wrote something that made my cheeks burn in embarrassment. "My boss is hot, but a selfish prick? No way." Did I really write this?

I wanted to laugh so hard, but I still needed the job.

I didn't do this, did I? If liking a boss wasn't cliché enough, then I didn't know what to call that.