Eden's Temptation

Chapter Nine

The day was a blur. A whir of excitement, of vocabulary I'd never heard, of places I didn't even know existed.

Not only was I glued to Silver's side—sometimes too close for comfort—but she formally introduced me to everyone we met. "Eden Meyer, my new personal assistant," she said, jutting her chin at me.

The big, fancy breakfast for the store employees was smooth. At Silver's behest, they all greeted me, and were made aware that I was their point of contact if they needed anything from her.

"She's my right hand," Silver said, after a toast to a strong collaboration. "Probably my left hand, too," she added to a shy chorus of laughter.

Most of these individuals were wary, but stars filled their eyes as they listened to Silver's speeches and acknowledged her expertise. She briefed them on her expectations, acknowledged and answered their questions, and spoke with them as if they were peers, not staff.

I didn't say much, but paid careful attention to how she addressed everyone around her. Her wardrobe exuded luxury and poise, but she never shoved her status in anyone's face. Never talked down to anyone. Never hinted that she was above anyone in the room.

In my opinion, she was. An experienced boss, a bad-ass female CEO, and though no one said it out loud, all those present felt it.

Due to lack of space at the table, I sat next to her. With the sexual tension still radiating between us, I opted to keep my distance for the remaining meetings. I needed space. Any moment beside her made my fingers twitch to touch her, and my mouth salivate for another taste of her.

For the walk-through of the first store, I trailed behind her and the manager, keeping to myself. They discussed textile-specific topics, which I knew nothing about. Silver often glanced back at me as if expecting me to say something, join in on the conversation.

"The place looks great," she said to me as we got into the car, headed to lunch with investors.

I didn't know what to add—she hadn't shared her expectations with me, nor was I qualified to interpret them. "It was huge," I said, buckling my seatbelt and keeping my gaze averted. Again, I sat across from her, unwilling to put us in a position of temptation.

Not now, not in the backseat of the SUV racing around New York City. Not ever again.

What happened that morning in her bedroom—it could not happen again. Not if I was expected to be attached to her all day like this. Not if I was supposed to remain professional and pretend like the energy between us wasn't spiked with sexual static.

Even without touching, I felt her, and the lower half of my body pulsed out of control with need.

"My L.A. stores are larger, believe it or not." Silver clasped her hands in her lap. I wasn't looking at her, but I sensed her gaze on me. "You were quiet in there."

I winced. "It wasn't my place to say anything."

"You're my assistant," she said, her voice taking a stern tone. "Take notes, ask questions, get involved. I'll often ask you for your opinion."

I cringed. "I...I'm not well-versed in all this." I tensed. "But I'll remember for next time."

It was true; I was completely out of my comfort zone with this gig. Being a personal assistant was my thing, but fashion? Store openings and fabrics and billionaire business? If I wasn't careful, it might all engulf me.

But while I was clueless about the fashion industry, I was willing to learn. For Silver. To impress Silver.

If I played my cards correctly, she'd keep me for a long time, and that'd be a lot of money to put aside for my future. All I needed was to create some distance while spending lengthy, stressful days with her. Easy, right?