His Secretary: BBW Romance (Her Second Chance Book 1) (3 page)

“No. I don’t think so, but this is not my money were dealing with, so I want to make sure the contract is water tight.”

“It means a lot to you, that your uncle has asked you to do this?” He looked at her, and she knew she shouldn’t have asked, before he could answer she said, “Sorry. None of my business. I’m so used to listening to other people’s problems I forgot.”

He looked at his watch. “That reminds me, I have to call him to check in. Why don’t you go and get started on typing what you have so far, we can pick up with this later.”

She tried not to let the relief show, instead she clambered unsteadily to her feet. Her legs had gone numb, and she swayed slightly, his hand shooting out to catch her, and stop her from falling.

“Sorry. You’d think I’d be used to crawling around on the floor like this with two young girls.”

His hand stayed where it was, his fingers gripping her firmly, but his touch light. Helen looked into his deep brown eyes, and wanted to melt right into him. He was the sexiest man she had ever met. And that’s when it hit her how stupid she was, and how out of her league he would always be. She was a poor, downtrodden, deserted housewife, and he was some kind of gazillionaire.

“Thank you,” she said, pointedly lifting her arm to release herself from his grasp.

“I’d hate for you to fall and mess up all the papers,” he replied, his voice deep, his expression unfathomable.

“Of course. The papers.” She stepped very carefully over the neat piles, and reached for the door handle.

“It does mean a lot to me.”

She turned around to look at him, once more his face was soft, his eyes deep pools of emotion. But she didn’t speak, not trusting her voice to come out as anything other than aroused. The hours shut in this room with him had given her a sense of his moods, of his body language, and right now the rich businessman was gone, replaced by a young uncertain man.

“He gave me a chance to make something of myself, he believed in me, when many other people would have cast me into the trash.”

“But he’s your uncle.”

“It doesn't give me the right to demand he help me. And I didn’t do so well at school that there was much promise in me. But he nurtured what he saw, and now I try my hardest to live up to that. If I can repay him in some small way by getting the bank through this deal without him at the helm, then I’ll feel in some way less obligated to him.”

“I think you’re going to need that coffee. I’ll bring some back with me. How long do you think you’ll be?”

He looked at his watch. “If I don’t come and find you first, come back in an hour. We’ll finish up this box and then call it a night.”

She looked rather despondently at the box, only the top few papers had been removed. “An hour,” she repeated, and went out to find Max.

***

“I’m not going to make it home until late,” Helen said to Max. She hated interrupting her when she was obviously busy.

“Do you want me to speak to Mr Pierceson for you?” Max asked, putting her pen down and coming around the desk to stand next to Helen.

“No. This was supposed to be a real glimpse at what life would be like if I went back to having a career rather than a job. It won’t be right if you have to keep stepping in and saving me.”

“I feel so bad getting you into this. I really thought you would come in and do some simple office work, not get embroiled in a multi million deal.”

“Listen, I’m not here to lay blame, I agreed to the job remember? What I really came to ask you was whether you could check in on the girls, and take them home if it’s too much for my mom.”

“Sure. Of course. Dan is coming around after his shift, we’ll go straight over.” She rubbed Helen’s arm reassuringly. “Hey, are you sure you’re OK?”

“Yes. Honestly,” she answered, but turned away from Max so she didn’t see the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. “I should go and get on with these notes. Thanks Max.”

“No problem. Don't let him keep you too late. If you need to go, tell him.”

“I will. But I don't think it will make a bit of difference, he’s trying so hard to get this deal right for his uncle.”

“Just remember it’s his deal, not yours. This is not your problem.”

“I can’t walk away. If I do he’ll be so far behind. It’s just five days, right?”

“Right.”

Helen went to the restroom, grabbed more coffee, and some junk food from the machine, and then headed back to the dreaded typing. Always trying to look for a positive in any situation, she realised that her typing speed was definitely picking up. Once she relaxed into it her fingers found the keys with less effort, and for the first time in years, she began to feel like a grown up in a grown up world, rather than simply a mommy in her children's world.

She tried not to feel guilty. That would come later when Mr Pierceson made it clear their work was going to go on for a few hours more.

Despite his outward arrogance, Oliver feared failure. He feared, above all else that he would disappoint his uncle. The conference call had done nothing to ease his worries. This was going to be a long night, they would need to get through the box they had started. Before he got any sleep tonight, he would then go over the notes Helen had typed up until he knew the deal on the table inside out and upside down, and sideways if he needed to.

His uncle’s health was hanging in the balance, and he didn’t want this to cause him any more stress. The whole situation made him edgy, and unfortunately it was Helen that took the brunt of his bad mood.

“I thought we’d gone over this?” he asked sharply.

“No.” She tried to keep calm, but an edge of frustration had crept into her voice. She flipped back through her notes. “You never mentioned an investment from anywhere in Switzerland.”

“I’ve asked you to make complete notes. I can't believe you haven’t written it down.”

She flipped back a few more pages. “Here, the loan was from a bank in Spain.”

“You’re absolutely sure?”

“Yes,” she said, her tone sounding as though she were trying to appease a five year old. “Look, you need to take a break. I need to type these notes up. I do have to go home tonight.”

She sounded tired and exasperated. A state he could quite empathise with.

“We need to get through the rest of this.”

“Mr Pierceson, we are both tired. And I do need to get home. My kids haven’t seen me all day.”

“I’m sorry about that, but one day with Daddy instead of Mommy is surely not going to hurt.” His voice held more than a hint of sarcasm.

She paled, and her bottom lip trembled. “I need to step out for a minute.”

She got up and he watched her leave. All thoughts of their work disappeared. He had upset her, and he wanted to know why.

Following her out he found her by the water cooler in the now deserted lounge. It was so late everyone else had gone home. As he approached she filled a cup with water, and her hand visibly shook as she brought it up to her mouth.

“Are you OK?”

She kept her back to him as she answered. “No. I shouldn’t be here.” She lifted her hand and he knew she was wiping away a tear. “I should be at home with my kids. I thought I could do this. But I was wrong. Please don’t blame Max. I’ll type these notes up and then I’ll go. I hope you can find someone else to replace me tomorrow.”

“Listen, we’re both tired. And I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing.” Oliver Pierceson never apologised. He must be more tired than he thought.

She shook her head. “You have nothing to apologise for. I’m an idiot for thinking I was ready to get back to a career.”

“Why did you?” And why do you care? he asked himself. Let it go. Let her go. But he couldn’t, he had been drawn to her from the first moment. She was so different to any of the other women he met, both professionally and socially.

“I wanted to make a better life for me and my daughters. We’ve struggled along for the last few months, I managed to stall my house being repossessed, but if I don't do something soon, the only thing my children are going to grow up hearing is how we can’t afford luxuries. Do you have any idea how soul destroying that can be when their friends have fantastic birthday parties and Christmas presents?”

“Yes. Yes I can.”

“Really?” She turned to face him. “Because if you’ve never been there I don't think you can. Your suit is probably worth more than my monthly income.”

“And your husband?” The voice in his head yelled at him to leave it alone. While she was married she was out of reach, otherwise she would become a distraction he didn't need, least of all at this moment in his life. His time and energy had to be channelled into his work one hundred percent.

“He left us. I have no idea where he is.” She wiped her eyes once more, and then turned to look at him defiantly. “So there you have it, I’m a failure. No marriage and no career.” She moved to push past him, but he put his arm across to stop her.

“You’ve kept your family afloat. That is not failing, that is surviving. The fact that you are still here, when all you really want is to go home, tells me you will succeed with whatever you set out to do.”

“I think I preferred it when you were being nasty. It’s much easier to handle than being patronised.”

“I’m not patronising you.” She was so close to him, his eyes drawn to the rise and fall of her breasts as she struggled not to cry. His hand itched to touch her, to draw her into his arms and comfort her. He knew exactly what it was like to grow up with no father, to watch your mother struggle to keep her family together, too proud to ask for help. “I’m glad you told me.”

“I should go.”

“Will you let me drive you home?”

“No, thank you.”

“Mrs Draper, please. I don’t want you making your own way home when you are upset. I apologise for keeping you here so late.”

“No... I mean I’m not ready to go home yet. I have to type up your notes.”

“Leave them for tonight. We’ll start again in the morning.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You’ve reminded me that there is more to life than work. Get your coat, I’ll meet you by reception.”

“Thank you,” she said, and brushed past him, totally unaware of what that lightest of touch did to him.

She felt more than a little foolish. In fact, as she fetched her coat and purse, she knew she didn’t belong in this kind of world. Disappointment with herself grew, she had blown her chances of getting a good reference and being able to update her CV.

‘Mommy who threw her toys out the pram’ did not look good for potential employees, she would have to stay in her dead end job until the girls were older and she could go back to college to study. It all left her feeling rather subdued, and even the thought of sitting in a car next to the most attractive man she had ever met did not raise her spirits. There was no way a sophisticated man would fall for a woman like her.

She laughed ironically at herself. Fantasies were something she had given up on a long time ago, even before this emotional meltdown he wouldn’t have looked twice at a woman with so much baggage. And that was for the best, her daughters were her priority, and always would be. Their happiness always trumped her own wishes and desires. But, oh my, did she desire Mr Pierceson.

It hit her once more when she saw him standing waiting for her. Never had she felt so self conscious of the way her body moved, of the few extra pounds of pregnancy weight she had never been able to shift. Her clothes clung too tightly to her, her breasts seemed to swell and strain to be released into his capable hands. Her skin would not remain evenly toned, her embarrassment resulting in a flush of pink, making her look red and blotchy. Attractive. Not.

“Ready?”

“Yes, although I still feel bad about not completing your notes.”

“Ah, well I have an idea about that.” He pushed a laptop forward towards her. “Here. Use this, and then email it to me.”

She smiled. “And I thought you were letting me off.”

“I’m a hard nosed business man, Mrs Draper. I don’t let people off.”

“You think what you like, it’s very kind of you to let me go early.”

He looked at his watch. “This is not exactly early is it? It’s nearly seven o’clock. What time do your kids go to bed?”

“Between half seven and eight. So I’ll get to give them a kiss goodnight, and hear about their day.”

“Don’t you wish we could go back to the days when the worst that could happen was someone stealing your favourite crayon.”

“Sometimes. Life gets so complicated doesn’t it? Although surely for a man like you there’s not too many bad things that can happen? All that money. I bet the hardest thing you have to do is choose which colour tie will match your shirt.”

“Do you know the responsibility I carry on my shoulders. The amount of people who depend on me for their income?” He looked at her, his face so serious. She couldn’t keep hers straight. “Oh, now you’re joking. Funny. Very funny.”

“Sorry, I thought you wanted to remember what is was like to be a child. I don’t suppose many people dare to joke with you now you’re so important.”

“No. No they don’t. You are a refreshing change, Mrs Draper.” He picked up the laptop, and they headed for the elevator.

While they waited for it to open, she turned to look at him now, all seriousness. “Could you do me a small favour?”

His face darkened just a little, and she heard him sigh, “I thought letting you go home to finish your work was a small favour.”

“It is. But this one is much smaller than that.”

“Go on, ask.” They stepped into the elevator, and he pressed the button for the ground floor.

“Would you mind not calling me Mrs Draper. It makes me think of my mother-in-law every time you do.”

“And that’s not a good thing?”

She shook her head. “No. She’s awful, blames me for my husband leaving.”

“I see.”

“It wasn’t my fault.” She quickly added, blushing. “I tried everything to keep us together, but he wanted his freedom back.”

“Your personal life is none of my business,” he said shortly.

“Of course not. Sorry.”