His Secretary: BBW Romance (Her Second Chance Book 1) (5 page)

Helen ducked her head. “That sounds like me.”

“Well don’t be. All my uncle ever wanted to do was see us happy and safe. It tore him up inside that my mom, his own sister, wouldn’t accept any help.”

“I never looked at it like that. My brother Dan, is always trying to help me out. I never let him, especially now he’s marrying Max. I guess that’s why I’m here, it’s the only way they could think of helping me without actually giving me money. Max helped me earn some money once, when I was really stuck.”

“And that’s all I’m trying to do. My mom should have taken the help she needed, she only did when my brother got sick. We would have been so much better off if she had been just a little less proud. At the time it didn’t register, I was too busy getting into trouble at school. I guess I hated the fact that my dad had deserted us and it felt like my mom had too, she worked so hard. I resented it.” He shook his head, his face solemn. “I can’t believe I was so stupid and selfish. It was only when my brother got sick that my uncle sat me down and told me I had to help them rather than making it worse.”

“I cannot imagine you being a bad boy.”

“You never know people, Helen. Not really.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your help, and your honesty. It doesn’t feel that you’re simply pitying me any more. That’s what I feel most of the time when people offer to help me, that I’m a failure who can’t do this on her own.”

“I never pitied you, Helen. I think you’re incredibly brave to pick yourself up and try to better yourself.”

“Even if I decide this isn’t for me?”

“Even then, but I hope you give it some real thought.”

“I will.”

“Right. Back to work. This has to be finished tonight.”

It was true, his motives stemmed from watching his mom struggle with bringing up two boisterous boys. When you’re in the middle of something like that, especially as a child you don’t see what’s going on. His uncle, looking in, could tell exactly how much his mom struggled.

It was Bob who picked Oliver up, dusted him down and told him his family needed him to pull himself together and stop being a drain on his mom’s energy. She was stretched to breaking point, he could see that with hindsight. And then he had found her crying over some stupid bill. Looking back at it now, it wasn’t even a big bill, a couple of hundred at most, but it was a couple of hundred that she didn’t have.

From that day on he worked hard to make it up to her, to take away money worries, he eventually persuaded her that it was OK for her to accept help off him, he owed it to her. She objected, he insisted. He won, he learned to always win.

As they worked he mused about what it would be like to win Helen over, to bend her to his will as he had with so many other women. And they always bent, he would find their weakness, and use it, so that they never got to know the true Oliver Pierceson. That man could never be allowed out, because he was not the man Oliver needed to be in the business world.

The years of helping his mom, and helping taking care of his brother had softened him, but he couldn’t allow that softer side to show itself to his colleagues and employees. So he wore a mask, one that slipped every time Helen Draper moved close to him, every time she smiled, and every time that small movement in his direction gave her away to him.

But she would be too easy, her weakness was obvious, it was her family. In so many ways they were similar, and for her sake he had to keep away from her. The last thing she needed was a broken heart. And he knew he wasn’t capable of offering her what she deserved. Stability.

His life was elsewhere, at the end of the week he would jet back home and pick up where he had left off. Helen would never know how he felt. All he could do was give her a chance to make a better life for herself, it would ease his conscience. The many nights he lay awake with only guilt as company, going over all the times he had hurt his mom and caused her stress. If he could spare Helen just one ounce of that, then he might not hate himself quite so much.

Yet it was this anger and hatred for himself that drove him to be successful.

In many ways, Oliver Pierceson was still a boy, in a man’s world. A boy who couldn’t learn to love himself, because he had never experienced real love at all. Not for the man he truly was.

Another long exhausting day. Not physically, but mentally. She tried to keep up with him, and more than once she knew he struggled to keep his temper. But at last the final box was emptied.

“I know it’s late,” he said as she looked at her watch. “But can you get as much done as you can before you head home? ...Please.”

“Sure,” she answered, hiding her true feelings. It was already six o’clock. Max and Dan would be picking the girls up once more, and taking them home. She would miss dinner, and she only hoped he would let her leave in time to get them into bed.

“This is the last day we’ll be finishing at this time. Tomorrow I’ll work on the presentation, and we’ll finish at five. OK?”

“Of course. You’re the boss.” She tried to smile, but her back ached and her fingers were feeling stiff from typing, it reminded her of how out of practice she was. But it would be worth it, the more she thought about his offer, the more she liked the idea. He was right, maybe it was time to stop being so independent and take the help her family and friends wanted to give her and the girls. Perhaps the one thing she had realised after her conversation with Oliver, was that she might just be being a little bit selfish. It was harder to take the help people offered her, than it sometimes was to give it.

Yes, the promised job would be fantastic, and when she was ready perhaps she could get promoted within the bank. Going out of his office she summed up her options. One more late night here with him, and then work through the rest of the week. Afterwards, she would be able to settle down into a better routine, and the extra money would be fantastic. But those happy thoughts for the future were tempered by one bitter-sweet thought; at the end of the week Oliver Pierceson would walk out of her life forever.

Sitting down at her desk she began to type, her fingers becoming more nimble as they loosened up. Half an hour, and then an hour, passed. She tried not to keep looking at the clock, but finally she saved her work, sent it to Oliver, and got up to go and find him.

She had hoped he would take her home again, but it looked as though she would have to find the money for a cab instead. Feeling a little cross at having been forgotten by him, despite reminding herself she was only a temporary employee, and he had already been very good to her so far, she went to his office.

He was sat with his elbows on his desk, his head in his hands. Oliver had no idea she was there, and she was so tempted to go to him and rub his back, soothe away his worries, just as she would if he were one of her children. It was not her place to do so, instead she made her hand into a fist, and knocked on the door.

“Oh, Helen. Sorry, I was miles away.” He looked tired, and worried.

“Is everything OK? I’ve typed up about half the notes, but wondered if I could go home and finish them like last night.”

He glanced at his watch. “I’m sorry, the time got away from me. Of course.” He stood up. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”

“No, there’s no need, I’ll get a cab.”

“I insist, it wouldn’t be right expecting you to make your own way home when I’ve kept you so late.”

Relieved, she said, “Thank you. I’ll grab my coat.”

When he came out of his office he still looked worried, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate tonight if she didn’t ask him what was wrong. Yet she shied away from it, they were strangers at best, employee and employer for only a few days. There was no reason why she should feel compelled to talk to him, to ask him about his problems.

However, she reminded herself of his kind words earlier, of the fresh start he was willing to give her.

“Want to talk about it?” she asked, simply, leaving the question open for his reply.

He dragged his hand through his hair, and shook his head. “I shouldn’t.”

“I’m good at keeping confidences.”

He looked her in the eyes, weighing her up, and she forced herself not to turn away. At last, reassured on some level, or perhaps he simply did need to talk to someone, he answered, “It’s this deal. Something is nagging me.”

“OK. Something in the notes I’ve taken?”

“No. It’s the bigger picture. We’re touting for business with Clarkson Holdings. It’s a big loan.”

“Then I can understand why you’re worried. In case you let your uncle down.”

“That’s not exactly what is bothering me.” He paused. “I had a call from my uncle’s PA, she flew out to be a mediator while he’s in hospital, the old goat doesn't want to take his finger off the pulse. Well, she said the CEO of Clarkson Holdings is pushing for my uncle to sign the deal, says he isn’t too concerned with the presentation, he’s made up his mind already.”

“And why does it bother you? Because they don't want to deal with you or that the time you’ve spent on this is now wasted?”

“No. I’ve learned to rise above things like that. If they wanted to wait and sign the deal when my uncle was better I wouldn't mind. But they’re pushing to fly out there and see him on Friday. The bank will email the documents, and his PA will print them off for them both to sign.”

“If they’re in a hurry to get things moving and the loan is an important part of their business plans, I can see why they would want to push ahead.”

“So why not go ahead with the meeting here? Why fly out to my uncle when they could simply come here and deal with me?”

“That makes you feel insecure?”

“Not for myself, I’m thicker skinned than that.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not a satisfactory answer, Mr Pierceson.”

He turned to her, and half smiled. “I am quite aware of that, Mrs Draper.”

They walked across to his car, and as he opened the door for her, she was reminded of the way he had touched her yesterday. She slipped inside, and he shut the door, too preoccupied this evening to talk to her in his sexy way. Sighing she did her seat belt up, and waited for him to start the car.

“You know what you should do?”

“No, that’s why I have my thinking face on,” he answered sarcastically.

Ignoring his tone she said, “You need to find out their tell. You know. You said everyone has one. So surely this big shot CEO does.”

“That would be easy if I had a meeting with him, but he doesn't want to see me, remember.”

“And is that going to stop you?”

He fell silent while he reversed out of his parking space and exited the building, turning into the evening traffic. Most of the way home he mulled over her words, and then he switched to small talk, and she guessed her idea had been abandoned. Oh well, what did she know about his business, she was a temp. Nothing more.

“Here we are. Have a good evening, Helen. I’ll still expect you to type up these notes.”

“Of course. Thank you for the lift. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She got out, but before she shut the door she leaned down and said, “Try not to worry. You’ll end up with wrinkles.”

He laughed, a proper laugh that made his shoulder shake, and his eyes dance. “I’ll take that advice on board. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Good night, Oliver.” She loved saying his name, but hardly ever had the courage. The realisation had hit her that if the CEO of Clarkson Holdings went directly to Oliver’s uncle, then this might be the last time she saw him, and worked for him,. There would be no need for the presentation, his job would be done and he would fly home to wherever he had come from. Her heart sank a little as she walked up the drive, feeling his eyes on her back.

When she reached the door, she turned, and couldn't help herself. She lifted her hand and waved, for one moment allowing herself to sink into the fantasy that he was dropping her off after a date, that they had spent a wonderful evening together. But in her fantasy he wouldn’t be driving away, he would be coming inside with her so they could make love in her big empty bed.

Driving to his hotel, he went over her advice. She was right, the only way to get to the bottom of this, and make sure he didn't let his uncle down was to go and meet this CEO himself. It would be easy to arrange, but he would have to get his uncle’s go ahead first. The last thing he wanted to do was step on the old man’s toes. After all the bank was not Oliver’s responsibility, he was only here to help because he had been asked. If his advice wasn’t needed, he would have to swallow his concerns and return home.

He parked his car, and wearily went inside. Another night of room service, whilst waiting for Helen to send over her notes. During that wait he would try not to picture her at home, with her kids. Because that often led to him wondering what it would be like to have those responsibilities, to enjoy the love and warmth of a family.

That wasn't to say his mom and brother didn't love him. But he had slowly become more distanced from them, they needed each other more than they needed him. Accept for his money. Medical bills often mounted up quickly, and now his mom took it for granted that Oliver would cover them, and he always did. No complaining, no disgruntled murmurs, they had been through a lot together, and the bond remained tight.

He mused over his decision not to have a family. His life stretched long and lonely before him. For once it hit him that his life was empty, nothing but business filled it, and at some point that wouldn't be enough. There had to be balance in his life. A thing he had shied away from. Watching Helen and the way she was pulled between family and work made him understand, for the first time, that without something or someone, to work for, his life would become empty and meaningless. He would lose the edge he had cultivated for so long.

A knock on the door brought him back to the present. Opening the door, he allowed his food to be brought in. “Thank you,” he said, tipping the waitress, who eyed him appreciatively.