Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 84219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I take call after call while typing up reports and letters, and when I come up for air, it’s to see it’s past six already.
Getting up from my chair, I stretch my body before I grab all the documents from the printer. I grab my stapler off my desk and head to the empty boardroom so I can use the large table.
Stapling all the reports and contracts, I set them down in neat piles before double-checking all the letters for any errors I might’ve missed when I typed them.
Happy with my work, I gather everything and carry it to Mr. Vitale’s office.
Just as I take hold of the doorknob, it twists beneath my hand. I’m yanked forward as someone opens the door, and I slam into a hard wall of muscle.
Hands grab hold of my arms, and as the documents fall to the ground, my eyes lock on Mr. Vitale’s face.
It only takes a second before it registers that his hands are gripping my biceps.
He’s touching me.
Before I can start panicking, he lets go of me and takes a couple of steps backward.
Feeling rattled, I suck in a deep breath of air before I look at the documents scattered on the floor.
“Why are you still here?” he asks in his usually grumpy tone.
My voice is tight from the shock as I answer, “I wanted to get all the work done.”
I crouch down and gather all the papers.
I didn’t have a panic attack.
In the past, something like this would’ve set me off.
It means my meetings with my mystery man are really working.
Intense relief fills my chest, and it makes me overemotional.
I stand up again, and rushing past Mr. Vitale, I place the stack of documents on his desk.
When I turn around he mutters, “Go home, Miss Blakely.”
Geeze, the man really doesn’t want me at the office today.
“Have a good evening, sir.”
I head back to my desk, and as I switch off my computer, I hear male voices rumbling from the elevator’s direction. Just then, two men come down the hallway, and the sight of them makes a shiver race over my body.
Dear God, they look just as intimidating as Mr. Vitale.
They’re both tall, and the expensive suits they're wearing are clearly tailor-made for their bodies.
One of the men notices me, and a smile spreads over his attractive face. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the infamous PA.”
What does that mean?
“Shut up, Dario,” Mr. Vitale snaps from where he’s standing in the doorway to his office. His eyes flick to me. “Why are you still here?”
“I was just about to leave,” I say.
I grab my handbag and wait for the men to pass my desk, but Dario stops in front of me.
With a playful grin, he holds his hand out to me. “Dario La Rosa. Just let me know when you’re tired of his bullshit. I’m looking for a good assistant.”
Oh shit.
My eyes drop to his outstretched hand, and unable to be rude to Mr. Vitale’s business acquaintance, I place my hand in his.
As if a switch is flipped inside me, a fine layer of sweat beads over my skin, and fear floods my veins.
My breaths burst over my lips, and they’re so loud it’s all I can hear.
Every muscle in my body locks up, and my feet refuse to move.
‘You call this a meal?’ Todd roars as he shoves my face into the plate of spaghetti and meatballs. ‘Then you fucking eat it!’
I can’t breathe, and placing my hands on the table, I try to push against Todd’s brutal grip around the back of my neck.
Suddenly, I’m yanked away from the plate. Before I can catch my bearings, he slams me against the wall, and the blow to my head makes my vision go black.
“You’re safe….No one’s going to hurt you…Jesus fucking Christ… Samantha, you’re safe…”
I manage to suck in a breath of much-needed air, but then the panic attack has me bursting out in tears, and it becomes harder to breathe.
Hands frame my face, and Mr. Vitale’s face appears before mine. “Look at me, Samantha!”
His harsh tone rips me out of the terror I’m stuck in.
“Take a deep breath,” he orders, and like a good little PA, I obey.
“That’s good,” he praises me, which is all it takes to make me come to my senses.
Pulling his hands away from my face, he takes a seat on the chair next to me and it’s only then I realize we’re in his office.
There’s no sign of the other men.
Forget about that and focus on calming your emotions.
It feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest, but as the seconds pass, the pressure eases until my breathing returns to normal.
With my head bowed, I wipe the tears from my face.
When I feel semi-normal again, the realization sinks in that I just had one hell of a panic attack in front of my boss.