Perfect Partner

By Kate Stone

I was desperate for a job.

 

So desperate that despite the warnings of the company's operations manager, I took the job of assistant to the CEO.

 

She warned me that he put the moves on all his female employees but I could ignore that if I could pay my rent and put food on the table.

 

Electricity jolted through me the moment we met and as I got to know him over late nights of work and long lunches away from the office I knew nothing, not even scheming managers, would keep me from my perfect partner.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kate Stone
• Release date: Jun 9, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201537562

Book preview

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

For Mr. Stone, who makes all my dreams come true.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE - Owen 

CHAPTER TWO - Jesse 

CHAPTER THREE - Owen 

CHAPTER FOUR - JESSE 

CHAPTER FIVE - Owen 

CHAPTER SIX - Jesse 

CHAPTER SEVEN - Owen 

CHAPTER EIGHT - Jesse 

CHAPTER NINE - Owen 

CHAPTER TEN - Jesse 

Excerpt of Kyle: Starke Private Security Book 1 

About the Author 

CHAPTER ONE - Owen

Ivy towered above my desk with one hand on her hip and the other pinning her report down to the wooden surface in front of me. I really think it’s time we cut our losses.

She wore a black power suit and heels. Her perfect golden hair fell down over one shoulder in crafted waves, resting in the deep V created by her blazer, exposing a considerable amount of skin. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath the coat, either. In the few years she’d worked here, I’m not sure she ever wore anything you couldn’t see her breasts in. I wasn’t interested, but she never got the message. Her pants were tight around her narrow hips but hung loosely over her lower legs. Her clothes mixed business and pleasure in a way that should have been criminal, but also made her look like a celebrity – or someone who wanted to be one.

That’s not how we operate, I reminded her. "We don’t cut our losses."

The report showed slumping numbers in several overseas markets, but I didn’t build OBM – Owen Brooks Media – on dropping underperforming markets like she wanted to. I built my internet marketing firm by finding the best way to work every corner of the worldwide web. Failure had not been an option when I started the company with just a smartphone in my hand, and it wasn’t an option with a tall spray-tan blonde in my face because she thought she ran the company.

We need to focus on our strengths if you want OBM to remain relevant, she countered.

I am focusing on our strengths, Ivy. Our biggest strengths are creativity and perseverance. We need to find the angle that will work in those markets, and we need to use our strengths. We’re not doing well because we aren’t giving these underperforming companies what they need. It’s not the other way around.

Because we did so well on social media – everyone was doing well on social media – we attracted employees who ran from temporary setbacks in search of quick and easy success. My offices were overrun by people who looked like they’d wandered in from music video shoots, people who wanted to be marketed so they turned to a marketing firm for employment. My company wasn’t attracting the kind of people who would work for the long-term success of our clients.

My approach to them was often the same as it was to the work we did, though. Point them in the right direction and offer as much push as needed to get the work done, and they usually did good work. Ivy was my Operations Manager, meaning she oversaw everything and was expected to implement the company’s vision. I suspected that wasn’t always the case. We’ve had conversations like this one quite often.

Fine. I’ll see what we can come up with. She pulled the report back, crumpling it up.

I’m sure we can make it work. Get our guys in Creative on it, I told her.

I leaned back in my chair as she glared down at me, a sarcastic, pointed smile crossing her face. She looked more like she was wincing from the pain of not getting her way. She tossed the paper into the trashcan next to my desk and turned to walk out of my office. I wondered how long before she would come back in with the same numbers again, having done nothing to improve them.

Oh, she stopped and turned to face me in the open door. your new assistant is here.

Assistant? Did the agency send one over? We’d partnered with a temp agency for some entry-level and temporary positions. I wasn’t expecting an assistant. I was already on my feet, adjusting my suit and moving towards the door to greet the new hire.

No, I hired her, Ivy said forcefully. I figured you could use someone to help you with your daily responsibilities so you could do more CEO-type work, like meeting with clients and promoting the company.

I see. I narrowed my eyes to let her know I’d heard what she really meant. She wanted me to back off and let her exert more control over the operations of the company. Honestly, I couldn’t see myself doing that, even if I did trust her to follow our mission and vision.

Ivy walked back to her office, passing the entrance to the lobby without even glancing at the new employee waiting to meet with me. Our suite sat in a corner of the tenth floor of one of the glass towers downtown. Each of our individual offices faced the city through floor-to-ceiling windows that offered beautiful views of capitalism at work. I walked down the short hallway to the lobby, where my new assistant sat by the windows facing the interior of the building.

Owen Brooks. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I didn’t know her name. I didn’t know anything about her other than what Ivy had just told me back in my office.

I quickly learned that she was unlike anyone else who worked for me. First off, she was naturally beautiful. Surrounded by people with professionally crafted looks and personalities, it was refreshing to see someone who’d just pulled her wavy auburn hair back, leaving a few strands to hang freely down the sides of her face. Her body hadn’t been perfectly sculpted by diets and strenuous exercise routines. Unlike the underfed supermodel looking women my company tended to attract, her lines flowed comfortably, like a landscape worth exploring.

Jesse Morgan. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Brooks. She stood to greet me as she shook my hand.

While her grip showed confidence, her