Page 13 of Pretty Broken Doll

Paige gives me a funny look, pulling me aside as a group of employees step out of the elevator. “Probably not, considering he’s in the middle of a meeting. That’s kinda why he hired a personal assistant.”

“To fetch his coffee?”

I shouldn’t even be surprised. It sounds exactly like something an entitled rich asshole would do. And honestly, I wouldn’t mind so much if it were Declan asking, but Ryann?

The last thing I want to do is cater to the guy who jizzed on my face and then kicked me out like...like some kind of prostitute or something.

Now that I think about it, though, the five-hundred dollar tip he gave me seems highly suspicious.

Oh, my god, does he think I’m a prostitute?!

“Igs, it’s not that big of a deal,” Paige huffs, steering me toward the Café. “Just drinks and snacks. You’ve ordered food before. I’d go with you, but I need to get back to my desk. I’ll text you the drink orders, okay? Just swipe your badge to pay.”

I can’t even respond, still reeling from the embarrassment as I shuffle up to the counter in a daze.

“I like your pin,” says the barista, a younger guy with long blond hair tied back and a dimpled chin.

I glance down at the Horde logo from World of Warcraft on my shirt and blink at him, mumbling off the orders Paige sent me. When I get to Ryann’s, I scoff because, of course, a soulless jerk like him would drink his coffee black.

An idea has me grinning stupidly as I finish ordering, and once everything is ready, I make a mental note to bring my backpack tomorrow. Balancing eight cups of coffee on top of a doughnut box is a bit of a struggle. Somehow, by the grace of the gods, I manage to get it all up the elevator without spilling a drop.

But then I just stand there, bouncing my gaze between the door handle of Conference Room Delta and my full arms, wishing I had telekinesis like Jean Grey from X-Men because how am I supposed to open it?!

After a few seconds of deliberation, I set everything on the floor to open the door. When I do, eight pairs of eyes swing my way, including two familiar hazel ones. My cheeks burn as I pick up the coffees and set them on the table, keeping my gaze down.

“Everyone,” Declan clears his throat from where he stands next to the wall-length TV, “this is Shilo Reed, our new intern PA. He’ll be helping us out a few hours a week while he’s in school. Shilo, these are all of our department heads.”

There’s a chorus of hellos, and I nod awkwardly, hands shoved in my pockets. I’d hand out the coffees, but I don’t know anyone yet, so Ryann stands up from the head of the table to do it for me.

I try not to look at him. I really do. But when he steps close enough for me to smell his cologne, I can’t help but notice how nicely his dark grey suit clings to his tapered waist. Or how the material of his slacks stretches over those thick thighs that I grabbed onto when we—

Oh hell no, we are not doing this here.

“Shilo’s actually a student at UDub in their Computer Engineering program,” Ryann says to a woman with frizzy hair as he hands her a cup. “Maybe he’ll be one of yours soon.”

The woman raises her brows, smiling at me. “Oh, is that right? And how do you like it so far?”

It takes me a moment to form a response under all the attention. I shrug, fighting the urge to bite my freshly painted thumbnail. “It’s... fun.”

“Fun?” Her smile falters, and I immediately regret speaking.

“Programming is fun.” And safe. Computers never judge me for being weird or for how I look. Numbers and codes make sense. Unlike people, who confuse the ever-loving shit out of me.

Thankfully, Declan calls the meeting back to order, and Ryann tells me to take a seat, tossing a notepad and pen onto the table. I have no idea what I’m supposed to write, so I just jot down everything. Daily metrics, production goals—stuff I really don’t care about, but it keeps me focused. Apparently, they’re having issues with a new product launch. That’s how I learn the frizzy-haired woman is Liza, a Project Manager over the software developers.

Out of my peripheral, I catch Ryann grimacing at his coffee, and it takes everything in me not to laugh.

Hope you like ungodly amounts of sugar, asshole.

His hazel eyes flick up to mine, and I quickly drop my gaze to the doodle I’m drawing in the margins of my notes.

The meeting drags on for an hour, and when it finally ends, I gather up the empty cups to toss. Everyone filters out, including Declan, leaving me alone with Ryann, who pushes the nearly empty doughnut box across the table.

“Eat,” he demands, pointing to the last one.

I scowl down at the glazed doughnut. “That’s yours.”

Gabbing it, he huffs and shoves it into my hands. “I don’t do sweets. Eat the doughnut, Shilo.”