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“No I do not want a wilting flower, Ms Miller Nor do I want a ‘chick chasing the millionaire CEO’ I’ll end that perception immediately”

“It’s not a big deal,” I say, softening with his vow

He, on the other hand, see, the hardness returning “Actually,” he corrects, “it is I’one”

“I will,” I say, certain he needs to hear this, though I don’t knohy “You can trust et the job done”

There is a slight tensing of his jaw that I read as skepticisht in , “I have concerns about you, Ms Miller”

Cotton lines my throat “Concerns?”

“You’re a reporter”

“By trade, yes”

“You’ve never worked as a secretary,” he comments, and it’s not a question

“Do you want just a secretary or so to the table?”

“Clearly, you excel at asking questions and not answering them”

“You didn’t phrase it as a question, and zipped lips should be one of my job requirements anyway”

His cell beeps and he pulls it froe for what see a reply, he sets the phone on the seat and his gaze goes to the

Seconds tick by, and I can al the air until I can barely breathe I wonder how he can “Everything okay?” I ask softly

His gaze shifts to me, and his eyes are steely hard and iamble, Ms Miller?”