Steele Hearts

“W you?” I jump, startled out of my reverie. Bang!!! My knees connect to the bottom of my desk. Still need those thank you. “Ow, ow, owie, owie that hurts like a mother...!” I look up into the face of the hottest man I’ve ever been face to face with, scowling at me. I try standing but nd myself falling back on my chair. is deathtrap of a chair will not allow me to stand. I feel my ass sliding of the chair now and me peddling back, as I struggle to regain whatever decorum I have left, is not helping. My skirt gets legs of its own moving in the opposite direction of my ass, one is going up the other going down. I’m now struggling to get a grasp on the chair as well as my skirt and failing miserably. I know within the next couple of seconds my ass is going to hit the oor as I continue to slide of the chair. is is going to be an epic fall and there is nothing I could do to prevent it. I feel the death trap glide out from under me and my ass hits the oor. I instinctively push my arms back to break my fall but my knees jerk back up and again BANG!!! Right at the bottom of my desk again. So much for decorum, I think to myself as I fall back at on my back. “Excuse me.” I turn to the right and my eyes connect on a pair of expensive looking shoes. ey dart up to the steely blue eyes that are staring down at me. “Hi,” I say with a weak smile, hoping he would take pity and help me up. “Who. e. Hell. Are. You?” he roars. Gentleman? I think not. “A little help here please?” My utter humiliation does not want to end. “First who are you and what are you doing here?” Okay denitely not a gentleman. My body nally seems to understand the concept of coordination my brain tried submitting before and in one of my most unladylike acts, I haul my ass of the oor. “anks for the help,” I snort. “Okay, one more time, who the hell are you? And what are you doing here?” “I work here!” I snap at the rude yet incredible handsome man. God, he has an absolutely sinful face. He belongs on the cover of a magazine or in movies. He’s like a photo-shopped God standing before me. Tussled blonde hair that belongs on a bad biker boy rather than someone wearing a business suit, deep blue eyes that remind me of the mysterious yet intriguing depths of the ocean, eyes I could loose myself in, chiseled jaw accentuated by the most beautiful, pouted, red lips I have ever seen on a man. “Get a grip lady, he’s only a man!” my inner voice chides. A knock interrupts my perusal and simultaneously we both yell come in. Mr. Steele walks into the oce, a huge smile on his face. “I see you’re here early,” he greets me kindly. Before I could respond, Mr. Sinful butts in. “Dad,” he barks Dad? Did he just say “Dad”? “Care to explain dad?” He gestures to me. Yep, there it was again “dad”. Mr. Sinful is the boss’s son. “Did you forget son, I told you I hired the executive assistant.” “You told me you hired a Mr. Matthews dad. I came in here expecting to nd a Mr. Matthews not some collage kid. You assured me you were going to nd someone with the experience this position demand,” he barks at Mr. Steele. “Son...” Even Mr. Steele cannot get a word in edgewise. “I knew this was a bad idea,” Mr. Sinful continues, “e last thing this oce needs is some inexperienced little tart.” I have heard enough. e arrogance of this man is unbelievable. Now anyone who knows me knows that my mouth tend to have a mind of it’s own, regardless of the situation or the consequences and right now its about to explode on the boss’s son, without consideration for the fact that my new boss is standing right there. I turn and stand directly in front of Mr. Sinful and give my most intimidating look as my mouth launches into a full attack. “Listen here buddy,” I poke him in the chest. Yes, I cannot believe it myself but I poked him in that rm, steely chest. My inner voice giggles at the apt description, “Mr. Steele’s steely chest”. “From all your hollering I get you’re my boss’s son, but you’re very rude and arrogant. Unless you’re hearing impaired, and only then you should be forgiven for your shouting, then you owe your father an apology for shouting at him.” He stares at me, his magnetic blue eyes lled with shock. My guess is this is a man who answers to no one and expects answers whenever needed without demanding them, but it still does not give him the right to shout at people, especially when they’re standing right next to him. I look at Mr. Steele, who looks equally as shocked as his son does but somewhat intrigued by my outburst, before focusing on Mr. Sinful again. “Your dad didn’t hire a Mr. Matthews he hired a Ms. Matthews, that’s me and even though you may assume I’m just out of collage, I can assure I’m not, neither am I some little tart. If your dad didn’t think I was qualied for this job then I wouldn’t be here and if he doesn’t think I’m capable of doing my job then I’m sure he’s going to do the right thing.” Mr. Sinful’s eyes open a little wider now and I’m sure at any moment now he’s going to demand his father res me. I hear Mr. Steele clear his throat and I look at him, a sincere apology bursting from my lips before he speaks. “Mr. Steele, I apologize if anything I said oended, but your son is very rude and I don’t appreciate being called a tart.” “No Ms. Matthews, I’m the one who would like to apologize to you on behalf of my son,” he ashes his son a warning look, “but I’m afraid there’s also been a little misunderstanding. You were not hired as my Executive Assistant, I don’t even work here, I just occasionally help my son,” he pauses for a second. I am a little bit confused now. “You were hired as my son’s, Connor’s, executive assistant. He owns this company.” Realization dawns on me. Oh, this is so not happening. Double crap on a cracker. I really stuck my foot in my mouth this time. I slowly turn to Mr. Sinful, whose actually smirking. Extending his hand towards me he says, “Welcome to C. Steele Industries Ms. Matthews. I’m Connor Steele, your new boss.” I carefully accept his handshake, electricity shooting through me at his touch, time suspended as he holds my gaze. rough the fog that covers my brain, I hear Mr. Steele, the dad says, “I’ve got to run. Connor talk to you later, Ms Matthews, again I apologize for the misunderstanding but I do hope you have a good rst day.” Yeah, some rst day this is turning out to be. “Bye guys.” “Bye dad.” “Bye Mr. Steele.” My errant voice decides to rejoin me. “I’m sorry,” I say rather sheepishly. “No you’re not,” he retorts. “Maybe a little, but you were very rude.” “I agree and please accept my apology. I felt like I was ten again having my dad apologize on my behalf, but don’t get use to it, I rarely apologize.” “Does that mean I’m not red?” He smiles “No, denitely not red!” Be still my barely beating heart, but the man has a smile that eclipses the sun. “I trust my dad’s judgment and he was very impressed with you.” “ank you.” Relief washes over me. ank God, I was not red within the rst hour of my new job. “Anyhow, I have a lot to get through this morning so join me in about thirty minutes and we can both get started.” at was denitely more of a demand than a request. Now this Mr. Steele is the controlling Mr. Steele.