Chapter One

SLOANE
How does he drink this stuff?
I set Hudson’s green juice on his desk and twist the cup, so the
logo is facing him when he takes a seat at his desk. It’s not required,
but I think it’s a nice touch. I’ve learned in life that appearances
matter.
I glance at the watch on my wrist and note that he’ll be here in
five minutes, so I take the time to set up his pen and notepad, wake
up his computer, and grab him a glass of water from the kitchenette
in his office.
Once everything is set, I stand to the side of his desk, ready to
greet him.
Yup, this is my life.
Sloane Galloway, twenty-two-year-old assistant to Hudson
Hopper, making sure all of his wildest dreams and business goals are
met, a.k.a. fetching him drinks and telling him people are waiting to
talk to him on line one.
Fresh out of college, I was looking for any sort of job, an
internship, or anything that paid and could give me experience in…
well…in anything. I majored in business management with no idea
what to do with that, interned at a dying newspaper for a few
months, and then desperately pleaded with Jude, my brother, to help
me find something where I make some money and earn more
corporate experience.
Enter Hudson Hopper into the chat.
He needed an assistant.
I’m great at assisting—even better at listening and catering to
your every need.
It was a match made in heaven.
I make decent money. He doesn’t use and abuse the assistant
role. And well…I’m learning quite quickly with every demanding
email and phone call that business is a lot about slapping on a smile
and being gracious even when it’s the last thing you want to do. I
can safely say executive assistant is not the future career for me. I’m
not sure the corporate life is for me either.
Corporate jobs feel a bit soulless, and the emphasis on money
and making more of it feels wrong as someone whose family
struggled for years to figure out where our next meal was going to
come from or how we were going to afford the roof over our heads.
What do I want to do?
That’s yet to be determined and something that I hope I figure
out along the way.
The door opens to Hudson’s office and—just like every other
morning when he strolls in wearing his bespoke suit, head down,
looking at his phone—I feel my stomach flip, my skin break out in an
acute sweat, and my pulse beat faster, because…
Oh.
My.
God.
He is so handsome.
No, handsome is not even the most suitable word to describe
him. He’s…ungodly.
Olive skin; full, light brown hair; and eyes the color of the
sweater Andrea Sachs wears in The Devil Wears Prada…cerulean
blue. His long legs are endless, his waist, thick but narrow, and his
shoulders are broad, rounded in muscles that pull on his button-up
shirts whenever he removes his jacket. Not to mention one of the
best asses I’ve ever seen in a three-piece suit. And when he’s in the
state of full-on concentration with his sleeves rolled up—his brow
pinched together as he stares down at his notes—he’s stunning. It’s
hard to pull my gaze off him from where I sit at my desk, looking
into his office, wondering if there is a way I can ease the tension for
him, something more than just bringing him a drink.
Hudson pulls his attention away from his phone and looks up at
me. The same mandatory smile he offers me every morning plays on
his lips as he says, “Morning, Sloane.”
“Good morning, Mr. Hopper,” I answer, my hands folded in front
of me.
And just like every other morning, he turns his attention away
from me and brings it to his desk where he takes a seat.
Do I wish that he’d give me more than just his smile used for
employees?
Of course.
Do I wish he noticed the outfits I spend a great deal of time
putting together in an effort to impress him?
Obviously.
But that’s wishful thinking because this is Hudson Hopper. Not
only is he way out of my league, significantly older than me, and my
boss, but he’s my brother’s friend, brother-in-law, and business
partner, and there’s no way Hudson would ever cross that line.
I know this from how upset he was when he found out that his
brother, Hardy, was cross-pollinating with Everly Plum, who works
for Maggie Mitchell.
Maggie owns Magical Moments by Maggie and is the official
event planner for Hudson and Hardy’s co-op. She’s the owner of
Bridesmaid for Hire as well, which is an emerging, booming business
that rents bridesmaids to brides and grooms in need. Everly heads
up the program and recently helped Hardy’s friend, who needed
someone to train the maid of honor. Long story short, Hardy fell for
Everly, and Hudson had a conniption about it.
I
heard him ranting about how you don’t mix personal with
business. It was a rough day in the office to say the least.
“Any meetings today?” Hudson asks in a gruff voice as he picks
up his green drink and mumbles, “Thank you.”
“You have three,” I say while pulling my phone out to go over his
schedule. This is where I transform. This is where I have an out-of
body experience.
Normally, I can be snarky, sarcastic, maybe a bit too sassy for my
own good, but when I’m around Hudson, I’m on my best behavior.
Again, I know the value of appearances.
I’m talking, we’re having dinner at the in-laws, do not say
anything incriminating type of behavior.
I’m polite.
I’m courteous.
I do the job, and I don’t linger.
When I got this job, Jude pulled me to the side and told me that
I needed to put my big-girl pants on and be professional, especially
since I would be working for his friend.
And I do what Jude says.
So, yup, every time I’m in assistant mode, I feel like I’m having
an out-of-body experience.
“The first meeting is with Maggie at Magical Moments. A check-in
on the business and then right after that, a few blocks down, you’re
meeting with Archie Wimbach.” Hudson’s gaze falls to mine.
“Archie’s today? I thought that was tomorrow.”
I shake my head. “It’s today. I sent you the notes yesterday
about the possible property purchase.”
“Jesus,” he mutters and then goes to his email. He scans through
his inbox, and when he sees my email, he mumbles something else
under his breath and then pinches his brow.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Fine,” he says in a snappy tone, and I know it’s not directed at
me, more so at himself.
I’ve heard it a few times, the anger and irritation over something
he’s done or something not going his way.
Here’s the thing about Hudson Hopper. He’s incredibly intelligent,
a diligent and hard worker, a kind, caring boss, but also vastly more
intense than anyone I’ve ever known. Why?
Because he has something to prove.
Only a few months ago, together with his brother and mine, he
formed a new business after parting ways with Reginald Hopper,
Hudson and Hardy’s dad.
But not only did they part ways, they started a co-op with
Reginald’s enemies, the Cane brothers, who own Cane Enterprises.
It
was the merger of the century. They invested in smaller
businesses, such as Maggie’s, and they’re building up their
philanthropic side by expanding affordable housing during a time
when big companies are scooping up property and price-gouging. No
one saw the co-op coming, not even Reginald, and now, he’s out for
blood.
Which has led to the intensity Hudson lives with on a daily basis.
Hudson blows out a heavy breath and leans back in his chair
while pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap
at you.”
See? Kind. Caring.
Hot.
Just look at how the top two buttons of his shirt are undone,
showing off his muscular pecs and bare chest. I saw exactly what
was under those button-downs when we were at Jude’s wedding in
Bora Bora. God, he’s so impossibly attractive that just looking at him
makes me sweat.
Weak.
And panting like a dog—for lack of a better description. Although,
I am quite feral when I see pec definition.
I’ve had the occasional thought of how I would motorboat in the
ridges all over his body.
And sure, do I seem like a horny assistant drooling over her boss,
obviously, can’t deny it, but I swear I perform my job well.
“It’s okay. I understand the stress you must be under at the
moment.”
He glances my way briefly, barely giving me a glimpse of those
sultry eyes of his. “Thanks, Sloane.”
He sits up again and takes a sip of his juice. When he sets it back
down, he stares back at his computer. “This possible purchase is
important. It could grant us access to low-income housing in the UK,
an expansion that would impress the Cane brothers as it’s something
they’ve been looking to do.”
“It seemed like a pretty big deal when I was writing up the notes
for you, but I think you can make it happen. Mr. Wimbach and you
definitely have something in common.”
“What’s that?” he asks.
“You both went to Stanford.”
“Did he?” Hudson asks, turning toward me again, but this time,
it’s not just his head. He turns his whole body. His deliciously firm
body.
“He did. He graduated a few years before you, but you were both
Cardinals and he’s a pretty big donor, which means he loves his
college more than the average student. I think that’s something you
can easily play off. Not to mention, he’s recently engaged. Your
sister just got married in Bora Bora, so you can bond over that.
Maybe discuss your sister’s business while you’re at it, pop in the
idea that she could bring her vacation rental brand over to the UK.”
Haisley started her own business a few years ago. Separating
herself from her father and Hopper Industries earlier, she took some
money from her trust fund and purchased a house in Nashville,
which she completely gutted and renovated, then themed the whole
house around Dolly Parton. She took the revenue from that house—
because who doesn’t want to vacation with Dolly?—and bought a
house here in San Francisco, which she decorated based on the
movie Clueless.
Hudson scratches the side of his cheek. “You know, that’s not
that bad of an idea.”
I want to say that’s a compliment, but why did he have to say it
like that? As if he expected me to have a bad idea, but I surprised
him with a good one?
“Thanks,” I say, even though I still feel the slight burn of his
comment. I might be much younger than him, but I’m also very
perceptive; he might not know it yet, but I’m a good addition to his
team.