Chapter One

Executive Administrative Assistant to Bryce Thompson.

That's what my placard says.

That's my job title.

I'm the glorified secretary to the country's youngest, richest, and most gorgeous asshole.

If I had known just what Bryce Thompson was like I never would have begged my professor to write that letter of recommendation for her brother. My heart stopped and my stomach heaved at the sound of his voice. He was gorgeous, mysterious, and utterly despicable. I don't know how the other women in the office didn't see it. I don't know why they all swoon at the site of him. He makes me want to vomit in the nearest waste basket.

"Troy!"

Ugh. Now what does the Lord of Liberty Avenue want?

"Troy! Where are you?" His baritone voice thundered from beyond the office doors.

"Be right there, Mr. Thompson." I took a few deep breaths and dragged myself up from the desk. I tugged at the bottom of my skirt and straightened my jacket.

Heaven forbid Master see a sloppy slave. Alright, Piper. Just go in and get it over with. What could the jackass possibly have to yell at you about today?

Bryce Thompson had to be the most pig-headed, pompous bastard that walked the face of the earth.

"Piper."

"Yes, Mr. Thompson?" I asked as calmly as I could.

"What time is it?"

"I believe it is eight o'clock, Mr. Thompson."

"You believe it is?" He folded his deliciously soft hands under his chin and peered up at me with piercing green eyes. He blinked slowly, cocking his head to the side. He was irritated, and I could hear that voice counting to ten inside his head.

"It is eight o'clock, Mr. Thompson." I clenched my teeth and balled my hands into tight fists at my sides. I wanted to deck him in his perfect veneered teeth. Instead I forced my best smile.

"Is there anything missing off of my desk, Piper?"

I shuddered at the sound of my first name. It was smooth as melted chocolate flowing over a conveyer belt of caramel. I could eat him up. I bit my lip banishing the thoughts from my mind.

I quickly scanned his desk for anything the horrible bastard could be missing. Everything he needed was right in front of him. "No. I'm sorry, Mr. Thompson."

"Coffee, Piper. Where is my coffee?" He arched his eyebrows, extending his arms in front of me.

I closed my eyes slowly and took a deep breath before opening them again. Six fucking years of college to be his coffee bitch? I'm fifty thousand dollars in debt to get that bastard fucking coffee? What the fuck?

"Please forgive me, Mr. Thompson. It must have slipped my mind."

"It must have. Cynthia never forgot."

Seriously? "Cynthia also had a mental breakdown after working for you for three months."

"Yes, well not everyone can handle the stress of working for a genius," he grumbled.

"Not everyone can handle working for a dick," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?"

"What kind of creamer would you like in your coffee?" I asked, faking my best smile.

"Almond," he snapped.

"Absolutely, Sir."

I closed the door and stood there for a long minute.

"Geez, Pipes."

"I forgot his Lords coffee."

"Uh oh. Did he give you the third degree?" Alyssa, the tall brunette who worked across the aisle from me, asked.

"No. He so pleasantly reminded me that Cynthia never forgot."

"Cynthia went crazy. Because of him."

"Apparently it wasn't his fault. She just couldn't handle his genius." I rubbed my eyes and walked toward the kitchen.

"Use his favorite mug."

"Yeah, yeah."

The office kitchen was empty. A mess but empty. I dug through the cabinets but of course Bryce's favorite mug was missing.

"Oh come on. Why? Of all days for someone to be a total prick and take that stupid, fucking mug!"

"You're talking to yourself, Piper," a familiar voice said off to the side.

"Robby! Do you know where that dumb, blue Harvard mug is?"

"Um, I think John from accounting has it."

"What? He did not go to Harvard. God, Mr. Thompson is in one of his moods and I need that mug."

"Use his number one boss mug. He'll get over it." He smirked.

"I doubt it."

"Did you forget his coffee again?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied, letting my head fall into my hands. "Today sucks."

"Sit down. I'll make the coffee." He grabbed my hand and led me to a small round table and handing me a stale donut that had been sitting out for who knows how long.

"Thanks, Robby." I picked it apart, watching the crumbs fall through the cracks to the filthy floor below.

"Don't think anything of it. Just let me buy you a drink sometime."

I sighed and wished I'd just gone to the coffee shop down the street. "I don't know. I really try not to mix work and pleasure. I hope you understand."

"Yeah."

I sat there watching as he scooped the coffee into the pot, continuing to pick at the stale donut. My mind was full of everything that needed done. My morning was turning into such a wreck already and it was only eight. I glanced up and watched as the brown liquid slowly dripped down into the pot below. Bryce was going to be pissed that it was taking so long.

At least he's getting fresh coffee.

"Why do you let him treat you like shit?"

"It'll look awesome on my resume," I said.

"It's not healthy," he replied.

"He's a career maker."

"He causes mental breakdowns." Robby arched his eyebrows as he turned to the hissing coffee pot.

The man has a point.

"Alright. Here you go," he said, handing me the mug.

"Thanks, Robby. Hopefully he'll be happy now." I took the cup, dumped sugar, and almond creamer in it and high tailed it back to the expansive office.

The walk back to Bryce felt like a ten mile hike. My stomach was in knots and I felt like I was going to vomit. He's giving me an ulcer. I know it. One morning I'm going to wake up vomiting blood.

"Did you have to grow the coffee beans yourself? What the hell took so long?"

"No. There was no coffee. I had to make it," I mumbled, making my way through the door.

"It's fresh. At least you've done something right today, Ms. Troy."

Asshole.

I reached for the door knob but stopped. I looked over my shoulder at him. He was antagonizing me. His arms were folded in front of him on his desk around his cup of coffee. He looked at me over the rim of his glasses. I could have sworn he was smirking at me.

Over a cup of coffee?

"I won't forget your coffee again," I said through clenched teeth.

"I know you won't." His stern replied sent a shiver down my spine. I wasn't sure if it was a threat.

I often fantasized about tying him to his chair and whipping him. Not hard, just enough to make him shut up and listen to someone else for a change. That website I was on last night had a nice selection of whips. Don't even start thinking about it, Piper.

"If you need anything else…" I started.

"You're not going just yet, Miss Troy."

Of course not.

"What else can I do for you, Mr. Thompson?"

"The board room needs set up for this afternoons luncheon with Sandpepper's Ceo and her board."

"Of course it does."

"Is that attitude?"

"No, Mr. Thompson."

"The spreadsheets need to be copied and bound."

"Of course."

"And I need the caterer called."

"When does this need to be done by?"

"One."

"I never got a memo or email about all of this yesterday."

"It wasn't decided until this morning," he replied.

I managed to get my hand on the handle this time. "Oh, and Piper?"

"Yes, Mr. Thompson?"

"Let's not forget the coffee this time? And not the shit from the office kitchen?"

Bastard.