Dreaming Of… Italy. Alison Roberts
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href="#uc707857b-1521-5a95-abb8-f4ec3f261d51"> CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Susan Meier
The magic of the Mediterranean…
When accountant Olivia Prentiss joins Tucker Engle’s company, she’s unceremoniously demoted—to stand in as his PA! However, Tucker’s not in for an easy ride. Olivia’s worked hard to get where she is now, and refuses to bow to her gorgeous boss’s commands—however fearsome his reputation.
But soon Olivia begins to see there is far more to her boss than meets the eye. And on a business trip to Italy, she sees straight through Tucker’s hard and proud exterior to a man with a far more vulnerable edge….
“I’M OLIVIA PRENTISS, here for my first day in Accounting.”
The gray-haired Human Resources director glanced up with a smile. “Good morning, Olivia. Welcome to Inferno.” She happily flipped through the files in a box on her desk, but when she found the one with “Olivia Prentiss” written on the tab, she winced. “I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans.”
Vivi’s stomach dropped to the floor. “I’m not hired?”
“No. No. Nothing like that. You’ve been reassigned temporarily.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Tucker Engle’s assistant was in an accident last week.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” She knew Tucker Engle was the CEO and chairman of the board of Inferno. Before she’d interviewed for this job, she’d researched the company and his name had popped up. But the company’s annual statements had said little about the reclusive billionaire. When she’d searched the internet, she’d only found an interview with the Wall Street Journal and a Facebook rant by a former employee who had called him the Grim Reaper because the only time he came out of his ivory tower was to fire someone. Still, none of that information gave her any clue what his assistant’s accident had to do with her.
“As the newest employee in the company, it falls to you to stand in for Betsy.”
Her already-fallen stomach soured. She had to work directly with a guy called the Grim Reaper by his staff?
She gulped. “An accountant stands in for a personal assistant?”
“You won’t be a personal assistant.”
Following the sound of the deep male voice, Vivi swung around. A tall, dark-haired man leaned against the door frame. Her gaze crawled from his shiny black loafers up his black trousers and suit jacket, past his white shirt and sky-blue tie to a pair of emerald-green eyes.
Wow.
“Or even an administrative assistant. You’ll be an assistant.” He pushed away from the door frame and walked over to her. “The assistant to the chairman of the board. The assistant who must be able to read financial reports and change things I need to have changed. An assistant who has to be able to keep up.” His lush mouth thinned. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Intimidation