Chapter 3: Craving Danger: Chapter 3

Picking up my third slice of pizza, I eat it while looking at my bank accounts. With all the overtime I’ll probably be working, I’ll be able to pay the credit card off in no time.

I would’ve had enough money for the fridge if I hadn’t paid the membership fee for Paradiso, a taboo club in the heart of Manhattan.

I joined the club because I want to spend time with a man in a secure environment. I’m hoping it will help me work through my issues with men.

Men. God, I’ve been unlucky when it comes to the opposite species.

With the pizza forgotten in my hand, my thoughts spiral down the dark hole Todd Grant ripped through my life. When I started dating him, I thought I’d struck gold. The neurosurgeon was charming and polite and went out of his way to make me feel special. All the female staff at the hospital envied me.

Then, everything came crashing down around me, and I was forced to flee Houston. I didn’t even sell the house I bought with the money I inherited from my grandmother. I just locked the front door and ran like the devil himself was after me.

Todd Grant.

I close my eyes, and even though it’s been a year since I ran away from my ex-boyfriend, the trauma is still fresh in my mind.

I tried going to therapy, but it didn’t help. I couldn’t bring myself to speak about what happened to me. I also haven’t told my family, because they’d lose their shit and demand I go to the police.

It was easier to run to New York under the pretense of needing a fresh start after breaking things off with Todd.

If only I could run from the memories.

Unable to move a muscle, I hear him come closer…

I dart up from the couch, letting the magazine fall to the floor. Needing to make sure I’m safe, I check all the windows and doors.

At first, I was scared Todd would follow me to New York, and even though he didn’t, I’m unable to shake the fear that he might appear at any moment.

Instead of letting the fear and memories overwhelm me, I think about work and the grumpy asshole I have for a boss.

Would it kill the man to treat his employees with respect?

Switching off the lights in the kitchen and living room, I head to my bedroom and climb into bed. I was beyond exhausted when I got home, but now that it’s time to sleep, I’m wide awake.

I can’t believe the asshole said I’m moody. Hah.

Turning onto my left side, I punch my pillow and let out a sigh.

I’m going to work hard and show him what I’m capable of. I’ll be the best PA the man has ever seen.

I’ve set my alarm for five so I can be at the office at seven. Even though Mr. Vitale pissed me off, I’m taking the man’s advice and have already packed a pair of comfy ballet flats to wear while I’m at my desk. I’ve also packed snacks, so I’ll have something to nibble on whenever I have to skip lunch or dinner.

Unable to fall asleep, I grab my phone and unlock the screen. I Google the printer at the office and read up on troubleshooting the most common errors, which works like a charm because with every sentence I read, my eyelids grow heavy, and before I know it, I drift off to sleep.

I rearranged the folders on my computer so they’re easy for me to find, and I’ve mastered the printer. With the ballet flats on my feet, I’m preparing templates of the contracts and documents Mr. Vitale often uses.

I’m wearing a pantsuit and have my hair pinned up so it’s out of my face.

Today, I’m ready for Mr. Vitale.

My phone rings, and seeing it’s Charlotte from reception, I quickly press the button to answer. “Is he here?”

“Yes. He’s by the elevators,” she whispers as if we’re sharing state secrets.

I asked Charlotte to give me a heads-up in the mornings so I can get Mr. Vitale’s coffee ready.

“Thank you!” I end the call and quickly change the flats for my high heels. Wearing the wireless Bluetooth earpiece I installed this morning, I get up from behind my desk and rush to the kitchenette.

I pour Mr. Vitale a cup of coffee and place two shortbread cookies on the saucer. Carrying the tray to his office, I set it down on the side of his desk and quickly dart to the door. Just as I step out of his office Mr. Vitale comes stalking down the hallway.

Today, he’s wearing a gray suit, and I have to admit, he looks hot as hell.

Emphasis on hell.

Smiling the most professional smile I can muster, I say, “Morning, Mr. Vitale.”

His eyes sweep over my pantsuit and heels before settling on the wireless earpiece, then he mutters, “Morning.”

I wait for him to disappear into his office before taking a seat at my desk. Not even a minute has passed when the emails start coming through.

I’m almost done with all the emails when a new one pops up with a request to print the latest report from the sales department.

I carry out the request and smile from ear to ear when I gather the papers from the printer. Just as I step away from the machine, a call comes through, and I quickly tap the button on the earpiece, “Samantha speaking, how can I help you?”

“Print the report I just emailed,” Mr. Vitale’s voice rumbles over the line.

I walk to his office, and not bothering knocking, I push the door open. “Here’s the report, sir.”

His eyes widen slightly with surprise as I place the document on his desk.

Feeling triumphant, I turn around and walk back to my desk.

With a smile on my face, I work until twelve, then dial Mr. Vitale’s extension.

“What?” he barks over the line.

“Can I order you something for lunch, sir?”

There’s a moment’s silence before he says, “Anything but fish.”

The line goes dead, and I scrunch my nose while I wonder what to get him to eat.

Something that’s not messy and easy to eat.

I check the menus of nearby restaurants and decide to get fried chicken and bacon sandwiches.

After I place the order, I continue compiling a performance report from all the information the department heads sent me.

By the time our food arrives, I’ve already completed the detailed performance report and send it in an email to Mr. Vitale. I pay the delivery guy, then walk to the kitchenette so I can place the sandwich on a plate and add a bottle of chilled water to the tray. Feeling quite happy with myself, I head to Mr. Vitale’s office.

When I enter the chamber of wrath, Mr. Vitale’s head snaps up, and his eyes narrow on me.

I place the tray on the corner of the desk and smile at the insufferable man. “Enjoy your lunch, sir.”

His eyes narrow even more, and tilting his head, he says, “Explain to me why it took you two weeks to deliver this standard of work.”

Asshole.

Keeping the smile plastered on my face, I answer, “I just needed time to get into the routine.”

His gaze flicks to the report, then he mutters, “I see you took the initiative to consolidate all the departments.”

“I thought it would be easier for you, sir.”

The man only nods before getting back to work.

“I just want to let you know I have an appointment tonight, so I’ll only be able to work until six,” I advise him.

Without looking up, he makes the sound I’m quickly learning to hate.

“Hm.”

I suppress the urge to let out a sigh as I turn around and head back to my desk.

Taking a bite of my sandwich, I continue with my duties because I’m adamant to stay one step ahead of Mr. Vitale. Also, I have to leave work at six because I have my first appointment at Paradiso tonight. I’m both nervous and excited.

I really hope everything goes well tonight. I’d hate to have paid the membership fee only to be disappointed.