To Whom it May Concern Page 7

  “I wanted to apologize to you,” he said smoothly as he touched my arm. “I can see that I’ve upset you, and that wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to make it clear that while you’re welcome to pleasure yourself in any way you want, maybe it would be best if—”

  “Just stop.” I interrupted him. “Stop talking about me in that way. Do you really think that’s appropriate?”

  “Maybe not.” He stared at my lips. “But this entire situation is just a little different to the norm, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but that’s on you, not on me.” A thought struck me. “Oh god, this job isn’t some sort of sex thing, is it? Did you hire me to be your sex toy or plaything or something?”

  “My sex toy?” He chuckled. “How would you be my sex toy?”

  “I don’t know, but if you think I’m here to be your sexual playmate, you’re in for a huge surprise because I am not a whore, or a slut, or a hooker.” I was almost shouting now. “I came here for a professional job. And I’m here to work as your assistant, not to fulfill any of your sick fantasies!”

  “Who said my fantasies are sick?” He winked at me. “Or are you a mind reader?”

  “I’m not a mind reader, but I’m pretty sure I could guess.”

  “You have a pretty face,” he said abruptly. “You could have sent me a photo.” He looked me over. “You don’t look much like a dog at all.”

  “And you, sir, don’t look like a gentleman.”

  “Did I say I was one?”

  “Are we going to work or what?” I walked back to the chair so that I could get away from him. “And where’s this uniform that you said you wanted me to wear?”

  “I’ll have the uniform ready for you tomorrow.” He walked back to his side of the desk and sat down. “Looks like these people are never going to get back to me.” He frowned and then pressed a button on the conference phone on his desk. “You can call them back for me later this afternoon, introduce yourself as my assistant, and let them know you need the numbers for the graphite project.”

  “Okay.” I quickly added that to my notepad and watched as he lightly tapped some numbers into the phone and pressed the speaker button. His fingers were long, with neatly trimmed nails, and I wondered what they would feel like against my skin. The phone rang three times, and then a very polite woman answered the phone.

  “You’ve reached the office of Minister Akello, this is Dembe speaking. How may I help you today?”

  “Dembe, good to speak to you, this is Wade Hart on the phone, calling from New York. I have a call with Minister Akello and some local politicians in Gayaza. Can you put me through?”

  “Oh, nice to speak to you, Mr. Hart. Would you mind holding one minute? I will tell Minister Akello you’re on the line.”

  “That’s perfect, have a great day, Dembe,” Wade said politely, and I could feel the shock spreading through me. So he could be a normal respectful human being, then?

  “Close your mouth, Savannah, you don’t want to catch any flies—or maybe you do?”

  “Are you going to give me the laptop to take these notes?” I said pointedly, ignoring his comment. I wondered if our working relationship was going to continue this way, with each of us only answering half of the other’s questions. I’d never met anyone like him before. The men I’d known could only be classified as boys when compared to him. They even looked like boys in comparison to him. I could still picture his half naked body by the pool, and the way the water had glistened as it ran down his chest.

  “Yes, I suppose I should get that for you now before the call starts.” He stood up and walked past me to a file cabinet in the corner of the room. He opened the bottom cabinet and pulled out what appeared to be a brand-new MacBook Pro. He handed it to me and I opened the screen. I pressed the power button as he went back to his seat and then he grinned at me.

  “The password to get in is The Wade Hart.”

  “You’ve got to be joking me.” I couldn’t believe it, but I quickly found out that he wasn’t joking as I typed in the letters and gained access to the desktop. “You really are full of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “No, but I like that you think I am.”

  “You really like that I think that?”

  “Would I have said I did if I didn’t?”

  “Are you always this difficult?”

  “Are you?”

  I just glared at him and sighed. What the hell was his problem? And why was he smirking at me as if he’d found our whole exchange extremely funny? Nothing about this situation was funny. Absolutely nothing at all. “I’m sorry, but when I went to school, we were taught to respect our elders, I will watch what I say from here on out.” I smiled sweetly.

  “You consider me your elder?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m thirty.”

  “And your point is?”

  “No point.” He shook his head. “You don’t have to cook dinner tonight. Not sure if I already mentioned that or not. But we will grab a pizza.”

  “Okay, cool.”

  “Ham and pineapple.”

  “Gross.” I wrinkled my nose. “I’m not okay with pineapple on a pizza.”

  “You know what they say about pineapple on a pizza right?”

  “No, what?”

  “If you don’t know, I can’t tell you.” He winked and I was about to press him to tell me what he was insinuating, when his expression suddenly changed. “Okay, my call is about to start. Open up a Word doc and get ready. You might not understand everything, but type out everything that you can.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You sure do act like someone that doesn’t want to keep her job.”

  “And you act like someone that doesn’t want to keep his assistant.”

  “Touché.” He cocked his head to the side and then laughed. “You do know that I can easily get another assistant, right? You might find it a lot harder to find a new job.”

  “Why are you saying I’m not a good assistant?”

  “I’m not saying you’re bad, but I’m definitely not saying you’re good, either.”

  I had to resist the urge to slap the smirk off of his face. He sure wouldn’t be laughing then. But then neither would I. He would surely fire me if I slapped him, and for all I knew he would call the cops and I’d be taken to jail. I certainly didn’t need to get a criminal record just to make a point.

  There was a beep on the line, and Wade pressed a finger to his lips. “Okay, shh, the call is starting.”

  “Hello, Mr. Hart, Minister Akello here along with Minister Opio and Minister Adong.”

  “Hello, Ministers Akello, Opio and Adong, this is Wade Hart on the line. I also have my assistant Savannah Carter listening in as she will be taking notes for me, I hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course, Mr. Hart. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Carter.”

  “Hi, it’s miss and nice to meet you as well,” I said quickly. Wade was still smirking.

  “So, Mr. Hart, we understand that you have taken our needs into consideration and come up with a plan?”

  “Yes,” The tone of Wade’s voice changed, and I listened in awe as he began talking about investing in the farming industry in Uganda and helping to set up distribution centers for export. I typed as quickly as possible, but I couldn’t help glancing at him in amazement once in a while as he discussed investing millions into training and infrastructure, all from his own bank account. I wondered why he was doing it. Granted, it was a worthwhile and needed project, but from the looks of him, Wade had no connection to Africa from what I could see. Why would he want to invest so much money into a continent and country that was so far removed from his life?

  “Well, Mr. Hart, that all sounds very good, but what guarantee do we have that the equipment you bring into the country will last? And also, we will need to train up our farmers and engineers on how to fix these new products. Money will also be needed for education. Our people know their current systems and current processes. We don’t want to fix something that is alread
y working.”

  “I respectfully disagree with you, Minister Akello. The number of people in poverty in those regions shows us that the current systems aren’t working. You also stated on our last call that you rely far too much on imports when you have the capacity and workforce to manufacture a lot more domestically.”

  “That is true.” Minister Akello paused. “You give me a lot to think about, Mr. Hart. The other ministers and I will discuss your proposal, and then we will reconvene next week with any questions.”

  “That sounds perfect. Have a great evening, Minister Akello.”

  “You too, Wade. Savannah, do not let him work you too hard.” The minister chuckled and then hung up.

  I stared at Wade, my stomach growling as I realized we’d been on the call for three hours. I finished typing up the last sentence, hit save, and then looked up at him.

  “How would you like me to send you the notes I just typed up?” I asked him as he furiously scribbled something on a notepad. His face looked serious, and I realized that he wasn’t paying any attention to me. I watched as he stood up and quickly grabbed a file from the shelf next to his desk. He opened it up and pulled out some papers, muttering under his breath. I stared at him as he worked. I wasn’t hating it. In fact, I was a little impressed and a lot hot. He might be conceited and full of himself, but he wasn’t just a self-obsessed prick. He was a businessman who seemed to care about more than just maximizing profits. “Wade?”

  “Sorry, what did you say?” He looked up at me, a pen in his mouth and a slight frown on his forehead.

  “I was just asking if you’d like me to email you the file? I can put it directly in the email or send it as an attachment or upload it to Dropbox ...” My voice drifted off as he stared at me with a small smile. The look on his face disconcerted me. He looked amused, and I had no idea why.

  “You can email them for now. As an attachment.” He paused as the phone on his desk started ringing. He looked at it and frowned. “Answer that, please, and let them know I’m not available.”

  “Uhm, okay?” I leaned over and picked up the phone. “This is Wade Hart’s office, Savannah speaking. How may I help you?”

  “Savannah who?” An airy female voice inquired.

  “Savannah Carter?”

  “And who are you, Savannah Carter?” The light voice was questioning and not as sweet.

  “I’m Wade Hart’s assistant, can I help you?”

  “This is Louisa, I need to speak to Wade.”

  “Sorry, Ms. Louisa, but—”

  “It’s not Ms. Louisa, but Mrs. Thiefton.” She paused. “I want to speak to my son.”

  “Your son?” I couldn’t keep the shock out of my voice as I responded to her comment. I’d thought Louisa was his girlfriend or some woman Wade was seeing. Her voice sounded so young. I looked over at Wade to see if he wanted to take the call after all, but the expression on his face had changed from amusement to hostility. He shook his head and waved his hand in front of his neck. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Hart, but Wade is not—”

  “Are you an imbecile?” Her voice was sharp now.

  “Sorry, what?”

  “I told you my name is Mrs. Thiefton.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Thiefton, but Wade is not—”

  “Listen, girl, I know my son is there with you. There’s no way he would let you in his office without him there, put him on the phone.”

  “Mr. Hart is not available. Can I take a message?”

  “No.”

  And with that she hung up. I held the phone in my hand and looked over at Wade. “She didn’t sound too pleased.”

  “She’ll get over it.”

  “I don’t think your mom likes me.”

  “Don’t feel bad, she doesn’t like anyone.”

  “Not even you?” I teased him.

  “Barely.” He grinned. “Which is a shocker, I’m sure. She loves Henry, though.”

  “Well, he’s perfect, so I can see why.”

  “You want in my brother’s pants badly, don’t you?”

  “More than I want in yours,” I retorted before I could stop myself. I groaned inwardly. Why had I said that? I could see that I’d amused him by the way he stared at my lips and raised one single, questioning eyebrow “But no, I’m not interested in him at all.” I stood up. “Are we done? I want to go over these notes and then email them to you. I’d prefer to do it in my own space.”

  “Running away from me? I’m not the big bad wolf, Savannah.”

  “I’m not quite convinced of that,” I said with a quick lick of my lips. “I wouldn’t exactly call you a little piggy.”

  “Yeah, there’s nothing little about me.” He winked, I blushed, and the room went quiet. It was an odd situation to be working for a man who both annoyed me and turned me on. Half the time I didn’t know if he was actually flirting with me or if he was trying to get a rise out of me. “So, are you going to your room to finish typing up your notes or are you just going to sit there looking pretty and gaping at me?”

  I gave him my haughtiest look. “Now I know why you had to offer so much money to get an assistant. Someone has to be a saint or really in need of the money to put up with your assholery.”

  “Is that a word, then?” He tilted his head to the side. “May I have the Oxford Dictionary definition?”

  “No, you may not,” I huffed and walked out of the room, ignoring the sound of his laughter as I went. Just when I was starting to think he was okay, he went and said something that made me dislike him all over again. I couldn’t wait to get to my bedroom to type up my notes and call Lucy. I was going to need all the talking down she could give me because right now even the money wasn’t making this job seem worth it.

  “So, this is Herne Hill Village. It’s not much, but I like to think it’s a little slice of heaven.” Wade beamed with pride as we stopped outside of a small organic grocery store. “This is where you can do your shopping for the week. If there are any ingredients you need that they don’t have, you just have to let them know and they can get it in for you.”

  “Okay.” I nodded, hoping he wasn’t expecting me to prepare gourmet meals. He hadn’t said he required me to be a Michelin-starred chef, or and he’d never asked me what my cooking skills were like. I just hoped he liked a lot of scrambled eggs on toast.

  “Is there anything you wanted to have a look at before we figured out your desk?”

  “No, not really.” I was a little overwhelmed and wanted to explore the village at a later date when I was by myself.

  “Okay then, so I figured you could see if you like any of the desks in the store on the corner.”

  “But that’s not a store …” I stared at the dark building with the shuttered windows.

  “It’s not a traditional store, no, but it is a carpenter’s studio. Chuck makes pieces out of reclaimed wood. He can make you up a nice desk, you just need to let him know the style that you like.”

  “A custom desk? For me? Won’t that take forever to make?”

  “He can most probably have it done in a week. And I want you to have a desk you’ll love. Especially seeing as you’ll be sitting at it most of the day.”

  “Would it be possible to have it be a sitting/standing desk?” I asked shyly, feeling a bit embarrassed by asking for something special. “I have a cousin who is a chiropractor, and he always says that if you’re going to be at a desk most of the day, at least try not to be sitting the whole time.”

  “A sitting/standing desk?” Wade looked thoughtful. “We can ask what Chuck can do to make that happen, but aren’t you a bit young to be worried about sitting for too long? You literally just entered the workforce.”

  “That doesn’t mean that I don’t care about my health and my back.” I shook my head. “Prevention is better than cure.”

  “I guess you don’t want to create any issues for your back. You don’t want it to be uncomfortable when you’re lying on it …” He winked at me and I glared at him.

&nb
sp; “What is that supposed to mean? What are you insinuating?”

  “I’m not insinuating anything. Don’t you lie on your back when you sleep?” He shrugged. “Forgive my assumption, maybe you’re a side sleeper. I couldn’t imagine you sleep on your stomach, though.”

  “And why is that?”

  “It doesn’t seem as though it would be comfortable.” His eyes fell to my breasts, and I blushed. “But what do I know?”

  “I sleep on my back,” I said finally. “And I sleep just fine, though sometimes I do like to change up my position.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I’m pretty versatile as well.” He grinned. “I actually like to be on my back as well. Nothing like someone on—” He held up his hand as I glared at him. “Okay, I’ll stop, let’s go and chat with Chuck and see what he can do.”

  “Fine.” I pursed my lips and followed him across the road. We passed a pub called The Half Moon, and he turned to look at me.

  “If we get done in time and you’re willing, we can grab a drink in there. You can meet some of the locals.”

  “Some of the locals?” I raised an eyebrow. “This really is a small village, isn’t it?”

  “Do you not like small villages?”

  “I can’t say if I like or dislike them.” I shrugged. “I’m from the suburbs and live in New York City. I like the hustle and bustle of living in a big place, where no one knows my name and I can be whoever I want.”

  “And here everyone knows your name.” He smiled gently. “You can still be whoever you want, though. No one can stop you from that.”

  “I am who I want to be.” I shrugged. “Well, I am who I can afford to be in this moment,” I conceded.

  “If money wasn’t an issue, who would you be?” He looked at me as if he really wanted to know the answer.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “A world-famous author?”

  “I don’t know.” I shook my head. “I’d love to be an author, but it’s more than that. I don’t actually just like writing. It’s too solitary for me. I want to be out in the world. I want to interact with people.” I shrugged. “I would need more than to just know that people were reading my books. I want them to feel my books through me.”