Alphas on Top(181)

Just a few weeks after I had started working, Dante’s longtime executive assistant, Helen, got engaged to the head designer at the office in Greece. She then very quickly relocated to be with him. Other assistants within the company started being called up to try their hand at Helen’s job. Seven had the chance, but they all quickly returned to their original jobs.

The building was abuzz with gossip from disgruntled would-be assistants who claimed that Dante was too difficult to work for. "Too demanding," they all said. Normally, that was followed by, "He's so cold and impersonal." They made him sound like a machine; old before his time.

Another twenty assistants above me had found ways to defer having to try out, which is how I wound up as an executive assistant to the head of the company within a few months of starting. The morning that I met him will be etched into my memory forever.

I’d seen his photo before, of course, but I'd never met him. Hart was a Fortune 500 company so he was regularly featured in business publications, and every picture of him showed a man who was crazy beautiful. I say beautiful, but I should add that he also looked hard—dominant, even. It was almost impossible to believe that he was so young. After hearing all the gossip from the would-be assistants, I assumed that what the pictures actually depicted was an uptight killjoy. With everything I’d heard about how difficult he was (to everyone except Helen) I knew it was expected that I’d be number eight of the assistants that were not up to his standards.

None of the previous seven had lost their jobs at Hart, and all claimed to be relieved to go back to their original assignments, but I didn’t want to end up like that. I wasn't sure what I could do to ensure that my experience with him would be different than the others, but I knew I had to try. Not having the tenure the other assistants had, I felt that I couldn’t afford to fumble in my first months on the job. I was certain that, if I could show that I could do it, I’d be able to assure longevity for myself within the company.

I'd arrived on my first day as Dante’s trial assistant wearing a pale gray suit, gray heels and my hair pulled back into a tight chignon. I looked the part, and was ready to “Swing for the fences” as my dad used to say. Although I was thirty minutes early, Dante was already there. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I’d gone to the door of his office and looked inside.

That morning he had a newspaper spread out in front of him and he was engrossed in whatever article he was reading. Honestly, I was thrown off kilter by how incredibly gorgeous he was. Pictures didn’t do Dante justice, and that’s saying something since I’ve never seen a lousy photo of him. I’d been prepared for handsome. In actuality, handsome was an understatement. Dante was stunning.

I drank in the sight of him like I’d never done with anyone before, and that alarmed me. His dark hair was tousled, which is something I later came to find was his default hairdo no matter what style he started with in the morning. He runs his hands through his hair when he is thinking, happy, stressed or tired, so it's totally unavoidable. Having mussed up hair didn’t diminish his initial appeal to me. If anything, it added to it. Later on I would find out that the office gossips referred to the style as “the freshly fucked look.” I have to admit that there’s something to that assertion, because his hair has always looked like some lucky woman just had her hands in it.

That morning, his shirt sleeves were rolled up to reveal tanned arms with a steel watch at his wrist, his shirt stretched across what was obviously a beautifully muscular chest. I got tingly in my stomach just looking at him that day, which is something that hasn’t changed in the year I’ve worked for him. If anything, it’s gotten more extreme.

I took a few deep breaths to center myself and gave myself a stern warning to be professional before clearing my throat quietly. It was extremely fortunate that I’d had time to compose myself and school my expression, because when Dante looked up and our eyes met for the first time, I felt a jolt of energy travel through my body like a remarkably strong static electric charge. I felt it everywhere, from the top of my head to my toes, and most shockingly in my sex, which clenched in response. It took everything I had not to swoon or blush, but somehow I managed it. I wanted him from that very first moment, but I had priorities that didn’t include genuflecting at my bosses feet.

We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Somehow, I maintained a professional façade, even though in my mind I was ripping my clothes off and throwing myself on his desk begging for him to touch me. He raised an eyebrow at me, assessing me quizzically for a moment, as if he were waiting for something. Eventually, I came back to earth and stepped forward to offer my hand. Deciding that being forthright was the way to go, I introduced myself. “Good morning Mr. Hart, I’m Sabrina Tyler, otherwise known as assistant try out number eight.”