His Personal Assistant

6. | Sleep

The rest of the week, Rhys has been jumping out at me, scaring me. It seems this is his way of revenge. It also doesn't help that he's got Mason on his side.

I sigh as I walk to the break room, grabbing a cup of coffee. Walking out, I sip on the newly made coffee. Mason jumps out of one of the conference rooms, yelling.

I roll my eyes. "Nice try, Mase." I walk away. As I walk toward the corner, I call over my shoulder, "You don't scare m—" I scream as someone jumps out at me in a clown mask. My coffee splatters as the culprit removes the mask. "Seriously?!"

"Whoops."

"This is my only clean shirt." I frown at the brown stain on my new blouse. I haven't been able to do my laundry since I've been trying to get that damn packet done. And it's my only nice shirt.

"Here, I'll get you a new one." He nods his head, gesturing for me to follow him. I do, walking with him to his office. He opens a wardrobe, pulling out a shirt.

"Do I even want to know why you have that?" I cross my arms.

"I keep it because my sister is a clutz. And you're around her size, so I'm sure you'll fit into one of these." He says as he goes through the clothes.

I wonder what his sister looks like. Does she look like him? Does she not? How old is she? Is she my age? Is she older?

How old is Rhys? That's a very good question.

He holds a cream colored blouse out to me. "Try this on."

Sighing, I take it from him. "Where do I try it on at?"

"I can shut the curtains and turn around if you want to just try it on in here." He offers.

I really don't feel like going all the way to the bathrooms, especially with Lindsey out there. "You won't look?"

"Not unless you want me to." He smirks.

"Turn around, asshat."

He walks to the window, closing the blinds, but he doesn't move. Sighing, I unbutton my shirt, take it off, and pull the new shirt on in its place. It falls off the shoulder with a sweater-like lining folded down. It's a long sleeve as well and it matches with my skirt.

"You can turn around." I tell, and he does. I let his gaze run over me as he walks around the desk, to me.

He stops in front of me, reaching towards me, but he stops. "May I?"

I nod unsurely. He pulls the clip out of my hair, letting it fall to my shoulders in bouncy caramel waves.

He adjusts my hair. "You should keep it down more often."

"It gets in my way." My voice comes out breathy, my heart racing. There's a heat radiating off of him, and I find myself drawn to it. Like a moth to a light.