Assistant of Mr. CEO

The blare of my alarm clock ripped me from a triumphant dream of delivering a perfect jump kick to a 'crazy she-devil' with tweezers. It continued its assault until I silenced it with a well-aimed pillow. Five minutes of futile attempts to reclaim my dream-world victory later, I finally gave up.

"Amelia Winters scores 3 points for getting the ball into the goal!" I muttered to myself, stretching. Then my eyes landed on the clock: 9:30 AM. "Shit!"

I launched myself from bed, only to tangle in the sheets and crash-land on the floor. A job interview at Stone Industry, America's biggest, and I was already running late. Way to make an impression, Amelia. A lightning-fast shower and a quick change into a white blouse and black pencil skirt later, I was racing out the door.

"Enough of the immature comments, Amelia, you're about to be unemployed if you don't hurry your ass to Stone Industry," I scolded, speeding down the road. Ten minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of a massive building. Tripping (in heels, naturally) as I got out, I finally dashed inside, breathless. "Amelia Winters, job interview with Mr. Stone!" I gasped at the receptionist, who looked at me like I'd escaped an institution. My boss-to-be, she informed me, had been waiting for fifteen minutes. Great.

I bolted for the elevator, hitting the top floor button, praying it was right. Moments later, the doors opened, and I stumbled out, pulling on my heels. A 'Do not disturb' sign marked Mr. Stone's office. After three knocks, a husky "Come in" pulled me inside. I didn't look up until I was at his desk, and then I gasped. Ivan Stone was a vision, a chiseled hunk with hazel-gold eyes that held me captive.