Chapter 5 Dominic

I observed her as she wrestled with her coat, struggling to free herself from its fabric confines while tugging down the cuffs of her ivory-colored blouse. The garment was a throwback to an earlier era, adorned with delicate lace and intricate ruffles cascading down the long sleeves. It had an unexpectedly alluring quality on her; there was something charmingly provocative in its vintage appeal. Her skirt, a sleek black, featured a daring slit that accentuated her shapely legs, leading the eye down to her bare feet. The stockings hugged her legs but bore tiny, conspicuous holes at the toes. I couldn't help but stifle a chuckle at the absurd mental image that popped into my head her darting around the office to evade Richard downstairs, only to rush up the steps like a whirlwind. I found myself surprised that Richard hadn't called up to announce a "security breach" or an "imminent attack" as she slid past him. But considering his age, his poor vision in his left eye, and the fact that he was probably oblivious to her antics, I wasn't too shocked. None of us had the heart to let him go, he was on the verge of retirement in a mere year. The "assistant" we had brought on to alleviate some of his workload typically handled most of the tasks. He must have been absent from his post when Ms. Fairchild decided to drop by unannounced.

With a decisive thump, she plopped down in the chair across from my desk, smoothing her skirt with a flurry of nervous energy. "Ready," she announced, her tone firm yet slightly breathless.

I knew instinctively that her feet were dangling above the floor, and the image struck me with a fresh wave of amusement that I struggled to contain. I refused to let a grin slip past my carefully maintained facade. "Why should I hire you? You're late, disorganized, and, to be frank, an absolute hot mess," I inquired, my voice laced with skepticism.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and she tilted her head slightly, a playful grin spreading across her face. "You think I'm hot?"

I blinked, momentarily caught off-guard, and once again battled the urge to smile. "I didn't say that you're hot. I said you're a hot mess. Look at you, torn shoes, a damp coat, and those ripped stockings. Honestly, you look like an orphan in desperate need of some serious help."

"I am," she responded softly, the weight of her words drifting like a feather before crashing down in the silence. "I have no one in this world. I'm all alone."

I paused, taken aback by the raw honesty of her statement, unable to find the right words. Just when I was at a loss, she broke into laughter, a light, airy sound that seemed to brighten the room. "Gotcha! Oh, the look on your face right now, priceless!"

She giggle-snorted, and despite my best efforts to maintain a serious demeanor, my lips twitched at the corners, almost betraying my scowl. "You're really wasting your ten minutes, you know."

"Ten minutes?" she echoed, feigning surprise. "I thought we were on a lifelong expedition to save my career here!"

With a determined effort, she straightened her shoulders and adopted a more professional posture. "Listen, I assure you, I'm normally very organized. Admittedly, my knowledge of plants leaves much to be desired, but I can transform your calendar into a well-oiled machine, keep your days flowing seamlessly, and ensure your files are nothing short of perfection. I can also guarantee an amazing cup of coffee and a gourmet lunch each day without fail."

She paused, taking a breath that I suspected was necessary for her pacing thoughts. "I'm available to work late if required, and I can accompany you on site visits or out-of-town business trips anytime you need. I excel with numbers and spreadsheets. I consider myself an Excel wizard! And believe me, no one will get past me if that's what you want me to handle."

As she spoke, her eyes roamed the room, contemplating how she could make a mark. "Also, I can operate a 3-D printer with finesse, and I'm well-versed in CAD. I mean, think of the possibilities! I could turn our office tech into a dream team. Just picture it, my organizational prowess coupled with your vision! It's like the perfect blend of chaos and order."

Her enthusiasm was palpable, a contagious energy that forced my cynicism to recede, if only momentarily. "And if you had to sum yourself up in one word?" I challenged, feeling a glimmer of intrigue.

"Spunky," she replied without hesitation, her confidence twinkling in her eyes. "A little chaotic, a lot creative, and always willing to dance with disaster if it means achieving something great."

I leaned back in my chair, profoundly amused yet strangely impressed. "Well, 'spunky' might just be the understatement of the year."

I was captivated by the remarkable qualities she possessed, a unique blend that set her apart from the rest. While her knowledge of botany was an added bonus, it wasn't essential for my needs as a landscape architect. What I truly required was someone adept at seamlessly managing the daily operations of my office.

"Who says I need to adjust my calendar or that there's anything amiss with my files?" I asked, adopting a tone of feigned nonchalance, though intrigue tightened my voice.

"Why would you be searching for an assistant again so soon?" she countered, her curiosity edged with a hint of assertiveness.

"So soon?" I echoed, incredulity creeping into my tone. "I've applied for this position four times. This is my very first chance at an interview! It seems none of your previous hires have quite met your lofty standards for perfection."

She lifted her chin defiantly, the light catching the rich hues of her hair, rendering it almost ethereal. "You've been waiting for me," she declared, a hint of mischief lacing her confident demeanor.

Though I appreciated her assertiveness, I instinctively longed for an assistant with a less pronounced flair. To test her analytical skills, I retrieved a document from the clutter on my desk and presented it to her. "You have one minute to identify the flaw in this budget."

Her eyes sharpened as she absorbed the details, her lips moving soundlessly while they quietly haunted my thoughts. An inflection of concentration danced across her features, and before I knew it, I was mesmerized by the way her brow furrowed in thought so expressive, so genuine.

With a delicate precision, she traced her finger down the spreadsheet's columns, engrossed in its contents. The gentle tapping of her finger against her cheek pulled me from my thoughts. Her complexion was smooth and creamy, reminiscent of the soft petals of a lotus blossom.

Charmed by her beauty, I noted her minimal makeup, which highlighted her natural allure. Her long, straight hair shimmered with chestnut tones, an enchanting reddish glow under the sunlight that deepened into shadows. And her eyes rich, dark brown, held depths that seemed to invite contemplation.

My attention wandered once more to her lips. They looked inviting, yet I reminded myself of my resolve, shaking off the fantasy. It wouldn't lead anywhere. Yet, I could not help but take note of the delicate band of gold freckles on the bridge of her nose, perfectly symmetrical and perfectly delightful. I envisioned those freckles lighting up with vivid color whenever she felt a rush of emotion, a testament to her vibrant personality.

Some might call her enchanting. I preferred to remain grounded. Enchantment wasn't part of my narrative, nor was flirtation with sassy, vibrant women who aimed to work under my direction, however captivating they might be.

A firm line had been drawn long ago in my professional life, and I had resolved to keep my personal desires tightly leashed. In fact, I didn't engage in dating at all, particularly not with someone like her. The idea repulsed me, and I felt a wave of determination wash over me. I would let her complete this interview, pat her on the back for a job well done, and bring in Laura next week to launch another search for the ideal assistant. She could enjoy this moment in the spotlight; I would adhere fiercely to my commitments to myself.

A delicate clearing of her throat pierced my reverie, anchoring me back to the present. I realized I had been gazing at her a touch too long. She smoothly slid the paper back towards me, her finger landing firmly on the third column. "While I may not be an expert on pricing, this plant's listed value seems off. It's significantly lower than the others, that could derail the entire budget."

Impressed, I felt a spark of admiration for her insight. No other candidate had noticed that particular inconsistency. As she pointed it out, I reached for another document, a spreadsheet I had been informed she excelled at and handed it over with a slight grin.

"Error," was all I managed to say in response.

Settling back, I focused on her as she scrutinized the columns anew. In less than thirty seconds, she looked up with confident clarity. "There's an incorrect sum in the fifth column."

I nodded, approval blooming within me. I leaned back further, intrigued by the unexpected dynamics of this encounter, a fine line drawn between admiration and professional boundary sketched by an enticing candidate who had surprised me more than I had anticipated.

She had shown up late, which, at first glance, painted a picture of someone who might be a bit of a disaster. Yet, despite that shaky first impression, I couldn't shake the feeling that she was the strongest candidate among the entire pool. Dammit, it was a perplexing situation to be in.

"The salary isn't negotiable," I stated firmly, trying to maintain a level of authority in this already tangled conversation.

"I didn't expect it to be," she replied, her tone unwavering, as if she anticipated my words. She leaned back slightly, a glimmer of mischief dancing in her eyes.

"A month trial period," I added, feeling the need to establish some boundaries.

"I won't need it. You'll be lost without me after the first week," she declared, her confidence catching me off guard. I lifted an eyebrow in a mixture of skepticism and intrigue.

"Is that so?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"Absolutely. I know my worth and what I can bring to the table. It's practically a buffet," she quipped, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips.

A moment passed, the air thick with unspoken challenges. "I don't do Sundays," she said suddenly, breaking the tension.

"Off to church, are you?" I quipped, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Actually, I spend my Sundays with my dad at the home. I wouldn't dream of throwing his schedule out of whack. If something urgent comes up, I can adjust, but I'd rather not disrupt our time together."

"Noted," I murmured, making a mental note as I processed her words.

I paused, considering the dynamics of the position. "There may be some travel involved. And I can assure you there will most certainly be overtime," I added, gauging her reaction.

"That's fine. I'm used to it," she replied confidently, a slight smile playing on her lips, as if embracing the challenge.

A silence descended upon us, thick with the weight of my impending decision. "You start Monday. Be here at eight sharp. You'll work until five. You'll have an hour for lunch along with scheduled breaks at least, that is what your employment contract will claim. However, you'll receive what I give you, and I expect you to say thank you for it." I locked eyes with her, and I could see the spark of excitement dancing within her lovely eyes, an energy I hadn't anticipated. "I work hard, and I expect you to—"

"Work harder," she interjected, completing my thought with an infectious enthusiasm that both amused and intrigued me. "I know the drill, trust me. I promise I won't let you down."

I couldn't help but smirk. "Just so we're clear, you answer solely to me and no one else. You work for me. I don't do the friend thing. I'm your boss. I say jump, you jump."

She flashed a playful grin. "I'm kind of short, you know. I hope you don't expect much height from me. And just a heads-up, my backside is kind of round, so that might not help me out much with the jumping."

I chuckled at her boldness, realizing her confidence was matched only by her charm. "Well, as long as you can leap over hurdles, we'll be just fine."

"Practice makes perfect," she replied with a wry smile. "Let's just say I'm no stranger to leaping into the unknown. I make it look good," she added, tilting her head slightly, a challenge in her gaze.

I raised an eyebrow, thoroughly entertained. "Is that so? You might just be the wild card I've been searching for."

"Or the ace up your sleeve," she countered, her expression turning serious for a moment. "Either way, I'm ready to play."

It would surely be an interesting journey ahead, whether I liked it or not.