Sam turned from the stunning view of the Manhattan skyline and surveyed her new office, a wide smile playing across her lips as she took in the huge glass table, the white plush leather ergonomic executive chair, the cool white furniture that graced the large room and resisted the urge to do a dance of happiness around the room.
This was a dream come true...all her sacrifice over the years, her hard work everything had finally paid off with this job. She'd been badly in need of a career shift, disillusioned in her previous job with little hope of a promotion, due to the CEO being a misogynistic bastard who didn't believe in having women in leadership positions.
She'd turned in her application to Silvercorp on a whim, not really having much hope of getting a job, but had been pleasantly surprised when she'd received the call from Bradford Silverton himself, two months ago, offering her the position as the new head of the projects division of one the largest corporations in the US.
"Where do you want these boxes ma'am?" Jane, her new assistant, appeared in the doorway, holding a stack of cardboard boxes as she looked expectantly at Sam.
"Umm..you can put them over by those shelves." Sam hurried to relieve her of some of the boxes. "And it's Sam, please. I'm not much for formalities."
That earned her a smile, the first sign of a thaw Sam had seen from the blonde, since Sam had walked into the building. The reception was not surprising as Sam knew her appearance had stirred speculation as to her real reason for being here.
Bradford had been clear in stating her job description; a supervisory role, but she was still free to make decisions on behalf of his son who would was going through some issues. Her job was to bring the department back from the slump it had fallen into, a challenge she found exciting to say the least.
She stole a glance at the closed door opposite her own office, the plague proudly displaying Ryan Silverton's name and designation. For a brief moment, Sam felt apprehensive as she wondered how he would react to the news that someone had been brought him to second guess his actions.
"Would you like some coffee, Sam? We serve the best brew in the entire building, you know."
Jane looked up from unpacking the huge stack of business journals in one of the boxes. "Or if you would prefer something to eat instead, I can go down to the restaurant and pick something up."
Sam flashed a smile and shook her head.
"Thanks, but I already had breakfast, though it's good to know there's coffee close at hand." She crossed back to her desk and flipped open her laptop to log onto the company's private network. "Is there some way I can get an idea of some of the ongoing projects? I've tried accessing the database, but there's not much here."
"That's because Ryan keeps them in a private file on his own system." Jane answered, "He's very protective about that sort of thing and only Lola, his assistant, can give you access to those. You'd have to seek his permission first."
"Oh..." That was unusual, but not unheard of. "And do you have any idea when he will be coming in today?"
She checked her watch. "It's already nine am; does he come in this late?"
"To be honest, he may not come at all." Jane sighed and shook her head. "He hasn't exactly been regular in the office, sometimes, he stays away for days at a time, so your guess is as good as mine."
"I see." No wonder things had gotten so bad. The man was obviously one of those over-pampered playboys who abused the privilege of having everything handed to them on a silver platter.
She pulled up a folder on her desktop and glanced through. The folder contained everything she'd been able to discover about Ryan Silverton from her research. She was a firm believer in gathering as much information on the people she would be working with and from the minute she'd accepted the job, she had started a dossier on every employee of the division.
A blown up image of a fair haired, grey eyed male stared back at Sam, at once so familiar and yet so distant.
Memories of those eyes lingering on her face - the grey had been rimmed with tinges of red then - but no less riveting, created a rather pathetic flutter in the depths of her belly as she stared back at him.
She slammed the laptop lid closed and stood, crossing to the window again. "Let me know when he comes in, please."
"Okay," Jane set the last journal on the shelf and came to stand beside her desk. "He's a very good boss, you know. The best, matter of fact. It's just since the thing with his fiancee; he's been having a hard time, and..."
"And you should know better than to discuss personal issues in the workplace." A voice, the consistency of a typical Arctic winter cut in.
Both women whirled around.
Two weeks of mentally preparing to face Ryan Silverton again, dissolved as Sam found herself face to face with him, those eyes causing prickly bumps on her skin, freezing her in her tracks. He stood framed in the entrance to her office, glaring daggers in her direction, arms held straight against his sides.
He appeared thinner, all angles and hard edges with sunken eyes, and full, scraggly beard. His hair was certainly longer, forming a unruly mass over his forehead, the ends brushing against the neckline of the black T-shirt that hugged his frame, finished off by black jeans that rode low on lean hips.
Sam dragged her gaze from his body, back to the fiery blaze of his stare and waited, hoping for a flicker of recognition to cross his face.
Nothing.
Tamping down on her own irritation, she stepped forward, pasting a bright smile on her face in hopes of diffusing the highly awkward tension in the room.
"Jane was just catching me up to speed on how things work around here," She stepped past her desk, crossing the room to meet him.
Ryan's gaze flickered from her face and traveled down her body, seeming to pierce through her grey suit, all the way down to the black, four inch python stilettos and back to her face, lingering a little too long on her breasts. The entire outfit had been a gift from her best friend, who had insisted Sam wear it for her first day. The ensemble was not usually something Sam would pick to wear, as she usually preferred loose pantsuits.
The skirt was a little too snug and showed way more leg than she liked.
The corners of that beautiful mouth turned down. "My personal life is none of your fucking business and has nothing to do with work."
"True. And I apologize for that, my curiosity got the better of good manners," Sam replied, and couldn't resist adding. "There's really no need for profanity, though."
If she'd thought he was pissed before, the frosty glare he leveled on her proved that wrong. "What?"
Sam wished she could take the words back. She wasn't a purist, and heaven knew she'd uttered more than her fair share of colorful phrases, most recently a few hours ago, when the too tight skirt had made getting out of the Uber car a nightmare. Somewhere on the streets of Manhattan, roamed the only man who knew what color panties she had on today.
Still, a part of her was disgruntled and a little pissed at the fact Ryan Silverton apparently had no recollection of the first time they'd met.
True, he had been stone drunk...at first. Still, it irritated the hell out of Sam.
"Umm...I should probably put these boxes away." Jane muttered, hastily gathering the now empty boxes and made to edge around Ryan. Sam could swear she heard a sigh of relief when he moved aside, allowing her assistant to scurry away.
"Let's make two things clear, Ms. Bhatt," Ryan's raspy voice wiped the smile playing on Sam's face.
He stepped further into the room, crowding into her space until all Sam had to do was lift a finger to touch him. In her heels, they were about the same height, and had a closer view of those sculpted cheekbones, crooked nose, and strong jaw. Barely controlled fury oozed from every pore, the heat transferring to Sam's own cheeks.
"One, your time here is limited...very limited so better not get too comfortable, Princess," he stepped even closer, the toes of his black converse nudging the pointy tops of her shoes. "And two, this is my division. So, before you start acting like a fancy little title gives you the right to tell me what I may or may not say and do in my own office, know that I couldn't give a shit."
If Ryan had hoped to make Sam cower with those words, he'd failed.
Miserably
Well, she'd give him a C for effort. At least he hadn't resorted to sexual innuedo, though that Princess was borderline inappropriate, but Sam had been called worse. Still, she had not risen to her current position in a field dominated by testosterone and over privileged white boys without growing some backbone, and learning the art of putting down one's rival with carefully placed words.
She'd come here, prepared to do battle. Bradford Silverton had been very clear that his son would not take kindly to being usurped from his throne, so this piece of dramatic bolstering did not surprise her in the least.
She crossed her arms across her chest, an eyebrow raised in mockery. "While we're on the subject of making things clear, Mr. Silverton, here are a few things that might interest you. One, my name is Sameera, or Sam and not Princess or any other cute nickname you choose to dream up."
He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a finger.
"Two," she continued, adding a finger to the first. "My time here will be dependent on how fast you can manage to pull your head out of your ass and do your job properly. Three, for all intents and purposes, I am your boss and you will answer to me. Four, depending on how well you do two and three, I will then decide if you are fit enough to resume your position."
She held up a fifth finger, "And five, I love making lists, Mr. Silverton. I could go on all day, but I believe we have wasted enough time in this dick measuring contest. I'd like to proceed with business now, if you please?"
A vein throbbed in his temple, mouth a thin, white slash, muscles bulging beneath the short sleeves of the T-shirt. Sam shivered, resisting the urge to step back, despite her brain screaming for retreat. If she stepped back now, Ryan would think he'd won and she couldn't allow that.
An unexpected chuckle shattered the silence. Sam's eyes widened as the tension seeped from Ryan, shoulders relaxing, amusement pouring from his mouth.
"How long did it take you to rehearse all that? Did you do it in front of a mirror and practice making those fierce expressions as well?"
She opened her mouth to retort and shut it, settling for a dignified huff as she stalked back to her desk hoping to hell he hadn't noticed the embarrassed flush in her cheeks.
"We are done with the pissing contest."
Laughter chased her all the way back. "So, I was right. Nice try, Princess."
Settling back in her chair, Sam looked up to see he'd followed, and stood in front of the desk. He leaned forward, placing the tips of his fingers on the glossy wood. In spite of her ire, Sam couldn't help but be drawn to the sight of the rippling muscles on his arms, a hastily reburied memory floating to the surface for a millisecond.
"This isn't over, not by a long shot," he told her, the laughter gone from his voice. "You love making lists? Well, I love winning, and I am very good at it too."
He spun around and made to stalk out of her office, obviously convinced he'd gotten the last word.
"One minute, Mr. Silverton."
He halted in his tracks and looked over his shoulder. "What?"
"There's one more thing on my list I forgot to mention." Sam replied. "I also have the power to recommend you be fired, or removed to some obscure post where you will spend the rest of your days feeling sorry for yourself."