Читать книгу The Boss's Inexperienced Secretary - HELEN BROOKS, Helen Brooks - Страница 9

CHAPTER FOUR

ALL evening Kim was on edge. She didn’t regret saying what she had to Blaise’s daughter—in fact, she thought Lucy had got away lightly—but at the same time the fact that the episode might have soured her future at West International had shown her just how much she wanted to work for Blaise.

She’d had no idea the job would prove to be quite so fascinating before she had started. She had imagined being the personal assistant of a multimillionaire wouldn’t be boring, but Blaise wasn’t even your normal run-of-the-mill mogul. He was larger than life in every way, a high-profile personality who mixed with others of the same ilk.

She had already seen that he was implacably businesslike, very level-headed and more than a little cynical, but he had a wicked masculine charm that he used to great effect on occasion when all else failed. Altogether he was formidable, physically and every other way, and she still wasn’t really sure if she actually liked him or not because she had the feeling Blaise only let you see what he wanted you to see. The real man was an enigma. And she didn’t like that. After David, when she’d had to face the unwelcome truth that she had been all set to marry a man who was nothing more than an image he had projected which wasn’t the real man at all, she had steered well clear of anyone her instinct had dubbed mysterious or a conundrum.

But she was only working for Blaise. She had comforted herself with that numerous times. And the job was, without a doubt, a peach.

It was a little later, as she lay relaxing in a warm, bubbly bath with a glass of wine at her elbow and a candle filling the air with the scent of magnolias, that it dawned on her the reason she was so unsettled tonight wasn’t wholly due to the possible outcome of her confrontation with Blaise’s daughter; it was seeing Blaise in a different light. A more…human light. She could barely equate the word vulnerable with her aggressive, dynamic boss, but he had certainly been different.

She sighed, wriggling her toes and then reaching for the glass of wine. She was going to pamper herself tonight; do a facial and paint her toenails and make sure she was perfectly groomed and on the ball when she went into work tomorrow. With Pat gone, Blaise needed her more than she needed him at the moment, she had to remember that. He couldn’t abide disorder or any hint of confusion; his office had to run like clockwork. And she wasn’t going to think of him or his brat of a daughter any more either. Tomorrow would come soon enough.

The next morning Kim strode into the office looking every inch Blaise’s personal assistant. Her classic tailored suit, neat court shoes and immaculate appearance stated she was competent and proficient, and no one would have guessed she had a stomach full of butterflies doing the fandango.

She hadn’t even reached her desk when the interconnecting door opened.

‘Good morning.’ As ever Blaise’s tie was loose and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone. Kim had schooled herself to take this in her stride over the last four weeks. Just. ‘Thanks for helping out with Lucy yesterday.’

She eyed him warily. The deep, smoky voice hadn’t carried any hint of sarcasm or annoyance but you never could tell with Blaise. ‘That’s all right.’

‘She’s going through a bit of a troubled patch at the moment and yesterday wasn’t a good day. Her grandmother, my ex-wife’s mother, called round and Lucy is always unsettled after she’s gone.’

Considering that not once in the last month had he said anything remotely personal, Kim didn’t know how to react. But it wouldn’t do to show that. Quickly, she said, ‘It must be difficult knowing how to handle things at times. One of my close friends is in the same position. She says what she misses most since her divorce is being able to talk out a problem concerning one of the children at night and get a balanced view.’ She immediately felt she’d said too much. Hastily, she added, ‘Of course, every situation and every child is different.’

He was looking at her intently now. For a moment she thought he was going to make a dismissive remark and turn round and go back into his office. Instead he nodded slowly. ‘She has something approaching a phobia about hospitals; it all dates back to the accident, I guess. Normally I wouldn’t have dreamt of bringing her with me but I was already in the car when she insisted on coming. She was getting upset and it seemed the lesser of two evils.’ He shrugged. ‘She’s approaching that awkward age when she needs a mother to talk to.’

And from what Pat had revealed there was no chance of that. ‘Couldn’t she talk to her grandmother or someone else in the family?’

‘If you met my ex-wife’s mother you would see why that is impossible,’ he said shortly. ‘And there is no one else.’ His tone suggested he felt he had said way too much and the blue eyes had iced over. ‘The Massey file. Bring it in, would you? And I shall need those notes on the Brendan contract by ten o’clock.’

The brief glimpse of the real Blaise had gone; it was now very firmly work mode. Kim nodded. When the door to his office had closed she continued to stand for a moment, her thoughts racing. Did she assume the child hadn’t repeated what she’d said to her? It would seem so.

She walked over to her filing cabinet, unlocked it and took out the Massey file. When she tapped at his door and walked in he was seated at his desk, his head bent over the papers spread out in front of him. He did not look up. She quietly placed the file on a corner of the desk but didn’t speak, and when she was in her own office again she let out her breath in a whoosh.

So. It looked as though this day was the first one where she would be working as Blaise’s personal assistant without any back-up. She so hoped it was a good one.

It was, all things considered. There were a few teething hiccups and Kim realised just how much Pat had helped when she was still ploughing through the last of the day’s work at six-thirty, long after everyone else—except Blaise—had gone home. She finally finished a highly confidential and extremely interesting report on a company Blaise was considering taking over in Paris at seven o’clock, printing off a hard copy and then massaging her temples with weary hands.

‘Tired?’

The voice from the doorway, soft though it was, made Kim jump. Her head shooting up, she saw Blaise watching her with a half-smile twisting his stern mouth. ‘A bit,’ she said with magnificent understatement. ‘But I’ve finished the report on Delbouis you wanted.’