Fated to My Alpha Boss

#Chapter 5: The New Assistant

I looked around at the stunned faces. Craig's was beginning to turn purple. Even Charles' assistants looked confused, giving each other quick glances, but then looking to their boss for instruction.

"Do you think you'll need help packing up your desk?" Charles asked.

"I ... I'll be fine."

He nodded. "Great. Then I'll be by to get you in a few minutes."

I went to my cubicle in a daze. People were giving me a wide berth, looking at me with open confusion as I passed.

I looked around at my things.

There was very little. A photo of me and Cathy. A small mint plant I used to clear my nose when things got overwhelming, (an old werewolf trick).

I put an external drive into my computer and began to make sure I had back up files of any work I wanted to keep, then opened drawers and began to pull out office supplies and paperwork.

There were a few awards for pieces I'd helped work on, and articles I'd written for other journalists with their names still as the byline. I wanted to keep these for my portfolio.

And then I smelled it. Vetiver.

I looked up and Charles was standing at my cubicle, an arm casually propped on the dividing wall, a cardboard banker box in hand.

"You make quick work of things," he said, holding out the box.

I took the box and put my few belongings into it. I was confused, and his presence wasn't helping.

I shook my head and took a deep breath.

"Can you clarify for me how I'm qualified for this position? I'm grateful, obviously, but..."

He raised a hand to cut me off. "Let's talk privately."

He gestured for me to follow and went quickly through the quiet cubicles to the breakroom where he shut the door.

Without the free flow of air, his vetiver scent quickly filled the room, becoming stronger as he moved around, going first to the cup dispenser and then the coffee machine.

I watched him move, graceful and powerful, and experienced an odd mixture of euphoria and anxiety. His familiar smell filled my brain in a way that was comforting, something cherished from my past, but also brought back the old longing.

I had to shake my head to think properly again.

He finished dispensing the instant coffee and inhaled over the dark liquid. He frowned.

"Obviously, the quality of the coffee is going to have to change. Would you like a cup anyway?"

"No, thank you. I'm shaky enough today."

He smiled at my candor and poured himself a cup. He took a sip, made a face, and poured it into the sink, refiling his paper cup with water and rinsing his mouth out.

"That was unpleasant to say the least," he said, and for a moment the carefree teenager looked at me.

I couldn't help smiling back, but I also was having trouble putting thoughts into logical words.

I wanted a job, of course I did. But I didn't know how I fit the profile of his assistants. Judging from his assistants, I would need another level of education as well as a stylist.

"It's refreshing to see you again," he said, waving this cup at me.

"I can't believe you even remember me."

"Are you kidding? Of course I remember you."

I blushed, thinking about our last interaction.

"Probably because no one else embarrassed herself so badly in front of you the entire four years."

His face looked slightly pained. "That's not it. I loved sitting next to you in Mr. Sellers' class. Your scent actually helped me do better in that class than the others."

I frowned.

"Right," I said with as much sarcasm as I thought was decent for an employee to boss interaction. "The smell of nothing? Or flat-out air?"

"I'm serious." He put down the cup and waved his nose toward me. "You're slightly sweet, but all together elusive. I mentioned it to my friends once and was surprised they were certain you were scentless."

This took me by surprise. "I had no idea."

We stood, staring at each other for a moment. And then a horrible thought occurred to me.

"Oh." I said. "You're keeping me on because you feel bad, because we have this school connection. Seriously, it's okay. I understand business is business."

"Is that what you think?" He dashed the remainder of his water in the sink. "Please, give me more credit than that. I saw that HR report. I knew it was you and that you wouldn't lie."

Thank you. I didn't, as a matter of fact. But I don't see how you'd know that from the few classes we had together where we barely spoke more than two words."

"Four."

"What?"

"We had four classes together. Mr. James freshman year, Ms. Harrington sophomore year, Ms. Tate junior year, and Mr. Sellers senior year."

He smiled as my mouth dropped open.

"Obviously, I was watching you more closely than you imagined."

I felt my breathing quickened.

"I can't imagine you had time with all your activities and friends. But even so, that doesn't mean I qualify as your assistant. Those ladies..."

"Amy and Jessica."

"Amy and Jessica. They're extraordinary."

"And you're not?" He smiled, seeming to enjoy watching me. "You really haven't changed since high school."

"I know my resume. I'm good at what I do. I want to expand on that and become a journalist. It fits my particular skills," I said, waving at my scentless self. "Please believe I want a job, but I'm not convinced I'm right for your inner circle."

He looked suddenly serious and took a step toward me, crumpling the paper cup and tossing it into the trash.

I took a step back without realizing it. The power radiating off him made my eyes widen.

"You are questioning my judgment on how I choose to run my businesses?"

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

"Elena, I need someone with integrity, and I need someone who will speak truth to power, even at the risk of their job. You proved you can do that. Need I say more?"

My mouth snapped shut. He had a point. From this distance, his scent was strong, and if his argument hadn't been so good, his scent would have sealed the deal.

He looked into my eyes, read my thoughts, and smiled wolfishly. "Good."

*

I followed behind the three of them, carrying my half-full box, avoiding the stares and whispers that followed us as we went into the elevator.

We got out on the next floor up, the marketing department. Charles began to walk, Jessica and Amy in step behind him. It was silent as they went, the employees of the department standing when they realized who had just walked onto their floor.

I tried to follow at a discreet distance, hoping no one would notice me in the wake of this powerful threesome, but Charles suddenly stopped. He waved me to his side.

I could see employees craning to look, their heads popping up from their cubicles. Word had obviously gotten out quickly.

"Please walk next to me and show me around, Elena," he said.