Page 30 of His Assistant

“The agreement says Vieri Holdings takes eighteen percent after operating costs. The summary deck says twenty-two percent. I assumed the eighteen percent was old, but the date on the agreement is current.”

His face hardens, his jaw tightening. “Where did this come from?” he asks.

“Ardent sent it over last night,” I tell him. “It came straight from their legal team.”

He stares at the page for a long second before picking up his phone with a disgruntled sigh.

“Rafe,” he says as soon as the call connects. “I’m forwarding you the Ardent contract. Look at section eight. Find out who changed the revenue split and why our legal team missed it.”

He hangs up and stands.

“Let’s go,” he says, not even noticing I haven’t finished my breakfast. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”

We arrive at the meeting fifteen minutes later, and it’s blessedly in an air-conditioned conference room. For the first hour, I’m reminded what I love so much about this job. Negotiations fly, and I take diligent notes. I like watching Dominic work, even when he’s tearing into someone over a perceived slight.

Dominic turns a boardroom full of men into squirming, nervous participants. In Vegas, no less. It’s fascinating and also a little terrifying. Who the hell do I work for?

Meanwhile, I try to make myself as invisible as possible. I’ve never seen this version of Dominic up close. He’s all sharp edges and cold patience. I’ve watched him command rooms before, but never like this. He never raises his voice, because he doesn’t have to. Everyone here is attuned to his slightest shift in posture, and they rearrange themselves accordingly.

“I don’t know what happened,” one of the men tells Dominic. “It’s probably a formatting error.”

“That’s not good enough,” Dominic tells him, “Try again.”

The man swallows hard as another chimes in.

“I’m sure what Patrick means is that he’s going to get to the bottom of it,” says an older man.

Dominic turns his head toward the man and narrows his eyes.

“If that’s what he meant, then that’s what he should have said.”

After that, the meeting grinds to an abrupt halt. Everyone gets up and files out, but Dominic and I stay put as another round of men comes through to meet with him. The next meeting is more or less the same. A lot of men make a lot of excuses, and Dominic says very little, but his silence is deafening. When we’re finally done, it’s nearly noon, and my fingers cramp from all the writing.

“Well, Sofia,” Dominic says, leaning back casually in his chair. “I came here with one problem, but you helped me solve two.”

“I’m sure it was just a filing discrepancy,” I say casually.

“One that would have cost my company millions of dollars in the first year. Either no one caught it, or no one was meant to catch it because it was someone’s personal payday. Thank you.”

It’s the first kind word he’s said to anyone all day, and he’s reserved it for me. It’s hard not to feel a little pleased.

After a quick lunch, we do a site tour, which unfortunately runs through a half-built building with nothing but industrial fans. At some point, I’m sure I’m going to pass out. Dominic looks at me with concern.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Just hot,” I murmur.

He narrows his eyes at me.

“You look a little pale,” he says, like it’s an accusation. “And you were throwing up on the plane last night.”

“Motion sickness,” I assure him. “And the paleness is just the heat.”

He nods. “Why don’t you go back to the lounge and wait for me. We’re almost done here.”

Once again, his kindness shocks me. It’s gruff and sharp around the edges. Most people would call it basic human decency. For Dominic Vieri, it’s as kind as he gets.

Ten minutes later, he finds me in the lounge sipping on a large, overpriced bottle of water.