Read CHERISH (The Billionaire's Rules, Book 12) for Free Online Page B

when she exited the elevator, she
understood why it was referred to that way.
    The entire floor was completely open
concept, with rows and rows of flat desks connected to one another, no cubicles
or barriers between computers.
    People were seated at these “tables,”
working side-by-side in full view of the rest of the office.
    In other words, there was virtually no
privacy in the office—or rather—workspace.
    There was, however, a lot of natural light
filtering in from the windows all around the room, and there was beautiful
exposed brick that gave the place a very cool feel.
    Towards the back, there was also a Ping Pong
table, some couches, a television and refrigerator.   There were a few employees playing Ping
Pong and reclining on the couches, but the television was off.
    When she reached the far end of the
workspace, she could see two offices next to one another.   The offices looked identical, and the
walls were glass so you could clearly see the two men sitting at desks in each
separate space.
    On the one door, it read Virgil Spencer,
Founder and President.   In that
office, a young African American man wearing a stylish black suit was on the
phone, reclining in his chair and staring out his back window.
    On the other door, the nameplate read
Brayden Forman.   He was standing up
and looking at his cell phone, and then a moment later he was texting.   He wore black jeans, black sneakers and
a black blazer.
    His brown hair was somewhat shaggy, but
well styled, and he sported a scruffy beard that somehow suited him.  
    Brayden looked like exactly what he was,
she decided.
    Young, rich, arrogant and free to do what
he wanted, dress how he wanted, and likely screw whomever he wanted.
    Lanie tried to compose herself, smoothing
her shirt and adjusting her blazer.   Just as she was about to knock on the glass door to his office, Brayden
looked up and saw her.
    His mouth was curved into a perpetually cocky
grin that seemed so natural on him.   But when he saw her, the grin immediately faded.   His eyes momentarily widened and then
narrowed, all in the space of a second.  
    She grasped the door handle and tried to
push it and then noticed there was an instruction to pull.   Sighing at her own ineptitude, she
pulled the door open and walked inside Brayden’s office.
    He immediately placed his cell phone on
his desk.
    He was taller than she expected, and
though slim, his body was very fit and muscular.   She recalled something about him being
interested in endurance sports, but couldn’t remember exactly what that meant.
    “And so it begins,” he said, smiling that
wicked, knowing smile she’d seen in his pictures online.
    “What begins?” she asked, as he
approached her.
    “The interview,” he said, arching an
eyebrow and extending his hand.   “Pleased to meet you, Lanie.”
    “Nice to meet you too,” she said.   As his hand enveloped hers, she felt the
shock of excitement—like touching a live wire.
    It was both deeply sensual and also deeply
uncomfortable, and she quickly withdrew her hand from his grasp.   But even when she moved away, she could
feel his touch, like a ghost, still warm against her skin.
    “Did you bring your resume?” he said.
    She went to dig into her purse and
realized that she’d forgotten it in her haste to get to the appointment on time.   Lanie looked up at him, desperation
crossing her features.   “I didn’t,”
she said.   “I—I was rushing
around and late and—“
    He waved off her excuses and moved back
behind his desk, sitting down and motioning her to sit as well.   “That’s not a great first impression,”
he said, “as far as attention to detail goes.   If you’re going to be my personal
assistant—“
    “Your personal assistant?” she said.
    “Yes, my personal assistant,” Brayden
replied, looking at her like she might be insane.   “That’s the job you’re applying for.”
    “I—I didn’t know.   Cullen didn’t tell me exactly