Read Online Personal Assistant by Cara North - Free Book Online Page B

“It’s my job.”
            “Your
job is to take care of me, not my publicist.”
            “Telling
your publicist why you are not doing your job is part of my job. Let go.” He
held firm.
            The
phone rang again. The fact that she called three times irked Frankie.
            “If
you take that call you can tell her she is fired.” He punctuated the statement
with a squeeze of both hands in their respective locations. Her body wanted to
listen to him. Her mind was not having it.
            “It’s
not just your reputation. My name is listed as your first line for
contacts. I am the contact.” Frankie
took a step forward and he let her pull away from him. She missed his touch
instantly. “It’s in my contract to answer that damn phone and if I do nothing
else, I assure you, I will do that.”
            She
picked up the delicately embroidered bag she had tossed on the chair. She
wanted to go back in time to change the moment she took it off vibrate and put
it on ringer. Grabbing the phone she tried not to sound out of breath, but
failed. “Hi. Sorry. I meant to call you.”
            The
woman on the other end was unhappy and understandably so.
            Frankie
listened and replied, “Yes, I know I sound out of breath. He stepped off a step
to let someone by and rolled his ankle. I had to get him in bed, elevate his
foot, and put some ice on it.”
            His
publicist was a little more civil now that she had an excuse for why he wasn’t
at the after party.
            Frankie
needed to defend him further as his publicist was still questioning the
validity of the story. “Look, I don’t know what you think you know about him,
but he moved to let an older couple through, took a wrong step, and now he’s
laid up. He works hard. He’s been up all day. Your job is to fix this so it
doesn’t look bad for him.”
            She
couldn’t look at him. Frankie was lying on his behalf, but if she looked at him
she wouldn’t be able to maintain her outrage at the inconsiderate woman on the
other end of the phone reminding Frankie that it was her job to answer the phone.
            “I
know what my job is. My job is to take care of him. That might mean you have to
wait until I can make a call or answer a damn phone. I don’t know who you are
used to dealing with, but I am not those people. He’s not your only client, he is mine. You make him a priority, what,
a few days out of the month or as needed for events. He is now my priority
every single day. Do not, I repeat, do not make me research other publicists to
put on his desk because the press you, his publicist, allow to be printed is
atrocious. If you don’t believe in your client, I will find someone who does
and work day and night to convince him of it. Are we clear?”
            Of
course everything was clear. Frankie was high on adrenalin now. She took
several deep breaths. She liked this job. She really did. She didn’t want to
blow the paycheck or the opportunity by fucking her client.
            She
turned and appreciated the stunned expression on his face. He blinked several
times and then said, “Do you really think I need a new publicist?”
            “I
don’t know.” Frankie tugged at the shoulder straps of the dress and let it
slide down her body and over her hips. “I know that she has let some real crap
hit the tabloids without any rebuttal.”
            Frankie
stepped out of the shoes and then the dress. She was in her bra and panties,
but the moment of sexual tension had passed for her, she was all business
again. She walked to where the hanger was left in an upright trunk with a bar
and several shelves. She never knew such luggage existed before this evening.
She carefully hung the dress. She let her finger slide along the fabric with a
sigh. The next things she removed were the earrings and ring. She had about
swallowed her tongue