A Wolf in Billionaire’s Clothing

By: Daphne Loveling

Miranda Jacobs stood in the lobby of Blake Consulting, waiting for the elevator doors to open and carry her skyward toward her new job. Fresh out of college and new to the city, Miranda had been looking for work for four months when finally, the agency she had signed on with had found her an opening. Miranda had gone in for the interview last week, and the agency had called her the next day and told her to report to work the following Monday.

It was, the agency contact assured her, a surprisingly good position for someone with so little experience. The job was an emergency replacement as a personal secretary for Liam Blake, CEO of Blake Consulting. Miranda knew next to nothing about him. A quick Google search told her that he had appeared more than once on lists of the city’s most eligible bachelors, and that he was rarely seen in the company of women, and had never been linked as being seriously involved with anyone, male or female. He was young, had started the company from scratch, and that after only five years, it was one of the premier consulting firms in the region. Looking at her surroundings, Miranda could certainly believe this. The skyscraper where Blake Industries was located was prime downtown real estate. Miranda was awed and a little intimidated by the idea that she would be working here. She had stared for twenty minutes this morning at her woefully inadequate wardrobe, hoping that she could scrimp and save enough cash with the first couple of paychecks to supplement what she had into some semblance of downtown-worthy attire.

With a soft ding, the elevator doors opened, and Miranda walked in with a small crowd and pushed the button for the twenty-third floor. Stepping out into the lobby of Blake Consulting, she walked up to the slim, pretty blond seated at the front desk and introduced herself.

“Hello, I’m Miranda Jacobs. I’ve been hired as secretary to Mr. Liam Blake.”

“Oh, yes, Ms. Jacobs. Please have a seat and I’ll call Ms. Anderson.” The blond gave Miranda a quick once-over and then picked up the phone. Miranda sat down in one of the black leather chairs and tried not to let her nervousness show on her face.

A few minutes later, the sound of footsteps coming toward her made Miranda turn to look for the source. A tall, statuesque brunette in her mid-thirties walked up to Miranda and held out her hand. Miranda recognized her as the woman who had interviewed her the week before. Her dark green suit, with its knee-length pencil skirt, revealed a nearly perfect figure. Her high-heeled black pumps showed off her shapely calves attractively. Miranda found herself feeling underdressed, as she had feared she would. She once again vowed to herself to spend part of her first paycheck on some better clothes. And a gym membership as soon as possible, she added mentally. Miranda’s own naturally curvy figure seemed out of place among these perfectly slim beauties.

“Ms. Jacobs, good morning,” said the brunette as Miranda stood to greet her. “Welcome on board. We’re so pleased you’ve accepted the position.”

“Thank you,” Miranda said in what she hoped was a calm, assured voice. “I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name?”

“Marie Hathaway,” the brunette said smoothly. Ms. Hathaway gave Miranda an obvious once-over that Miranda wasn’t sure how to interpret. On the one hand, she seemed to be judging Miranda’s appearance and finding it wanting. On the other, she didn’t look particularly displeased about this.

“Let me show you around the office, and where you’ll be working. Mr. Blake isn’t due in until later today, so he’s instructed me to get you settled in and start you on some projects.”

Miranda followed Ms. Hathaway down the hall and into a larger area. The space was filled with cubicles. Around the outside of the cubicles was a hallway, and large private offices skirted the exterior walls. Ms. Hathaway showed Miranda the different areas of the office, including the break room and washrooms. Well-dressed men and beautiful, stylish women seemed to greet them at every turn. Finally, she led Miranda to an open space toward the back, where there was a large desk, a waiting area, and a closed door to what was obviously a very large office. A large nameplate to the side of the door read simply “Liam Blake.”

“This is you,” Ms. Hathaway said crisply, pointing to the large desk in front of Mr. Blake’s office. “There are quite a few tasks waiting for you, as Mr. Blake has been without an assistant for more than a week. Why don’t you start with typing up some correspondence, and then I’ll be back to check in and give you something else to do in a while.” Ms. Hathaway showed Miranda how to log into the computer with a new email address that had been created for her, and how to set a password for herself. When she was sure Miranda knew enough to start working on Mr. Blake’s correspondence, Ms. Hathaway gave her one more appraising look and then turned and walked away, leaving Miranda to settle in.

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