Second Hand Waitress

The rest of the day was about to end well when Tesah called Kira to his office, he kept talking about business until he mentioned the contract they'd signed.

" I think we're already good with the confidential contract we signed, I hope you haven't spilt anything, good?" He looked at her.

"Good, because that's not even a choice for you," Kira said firmly.

Tesah scoffed and gave her a slow, critical look from head to toe, taking in every detail of her messy appearance.

"This was different," she defended herself. "You never asked for anything I wasn't willing to give."

"I would never ask for something you're not willing to give because, luckily, I already know exactly what you want." His arrogant confidence was so typical that it took all her self-control not to throw something at him.

"I don’t think either of us tried very hard to resist today," she admitted. He nodded in agreement. "But as of this moment, whatever this thing between us is, it's over. And if I'm really not just here for your convenience, prove it by letting me start at Mr. Whitman’s office tomorrow, sir."

Tesah took his time responding. He adjusted his tie and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. Then he grabbed the phone on his desk and dialed.

"Whitman," he said sharply, keeping his eyes locked on hers. "Kira Samia will start in your office tomorrow morning. Have your current secretary show her how things work."

He hung up without another word, still holding her gaze.

"Happy?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Good. Now, before you leave, you need to find a proper replacement for Megan—someone who will last the full six months. Start by looking within the company, but if you don’t find anyone, contact a temp agency. You are not leaving this office today until you have a replacement ready for tomorrow. Understand? If she’s not good enough, you'll be responsible for that."

She raised an eyebrow at his short, demanding instructions.

"Yes, sir."

She finally pushed herself up from the chair, her frustration killing any lingering feelings she might have had for him. It wasn't exactly romantic to go from the most intense moment of her life back to discussions about office rules, contracts, and his inflated ego. From the look on his face, he felt the same way. She had just reached the door when his voice stopped her.

"Kira."

She paused, hand on the doorknob, waiting for him to continue.

"I’d prefer someone older. Someone less like you."

What was that supposed to mean? Someone less like her?

"You know," he said awkwardly when she turned to face him, looking as confused as she felt.

"No, I don’t," she replied coldly.

"Someone with more experience. Less personality."

"What?"

"You talk too much," he stated. "Your attitude is too familiar and too sarcastic."

She opened her mouth to respond, but he lifted a finger to stop her.

"And that was before everything that happened in Tokyo. You're too informal, and your sense of humor is… odd. I also don’t want to hear about reality shows, pop music, manicures, celebrity gossip, Star Trek, or whatever is trending on Twitter—not even through whispered phone calls when my assistant thinks I’m not listening."

Well, he had clearly been paying more attention than she’d thought. But one thing caught her off guard.

"Star Trek?" she repeated. She liked the new movies but hardly ever talked about them.

"You’re always complaining about the Cardassians," he added awkwardly.

Her eyes widened before she stifled a laugh.

"Kardashians, not Cardassians," she corrected. Trying to explain the difference to him was pointless—especially since he claimed to dislike pop culture but constantly surrounded himself with models and actresses. Still, she was oddly impressed that he even knew about the Cardassians from Star Trek.

"So, you're looking for someone who's the complete opposite of me?"

"It shouldn’t be hard to find someone totally different from you. You are quite…" He hesitated, searching for the right word. "Unique."

"Thank you," she said, feeling flattered until she saw his serious expression. Clearly, he hadn’t meant it as a compliment. Her small smile disappeared, and—like many times before—she had to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

"Okay, so you want an older, boring, but capable assistant," she summed up. He pressed his lips together but didn’t argue. "I’ll take care of it right away, sir."

Any trace of passion from earlier was completely gone, replaced by frustration and annoyance. She would make sure to find him the best assistant possible—because she never wanted to see him again.

Tesah watched her leave, waiting for the door to fully close before leaning back in his chair with a deep groan. What the hell had he been thinking? Sleeping with her in the office was unacceptable—and completely unlike him.

He had been perfectly calm when she walked in that morning, but her overly polite "sirs" had started to get on his nerves. Then she had come around the desk to hand him his coffee and mail, and her scent—shampoo, soap, perfume, and her own natural fragrance—had hit him like a drug. Add to that the way her skirt hugged her curves and how her blouse lightly clung to her figure…

He had gone from indifferent to completely aroused in under thirty seconds.