that expression probably had something to do with whatever they’d been discussing before she came in and was, therefore, none of her business, she handed one of the reports to Mitch and one to Riccardo before she sat on the empty chair in front of Mitch’s huge chrome-and-glass desk. The floor-to-ceiling windows behind Mitch displayed a beautiful view of the Manhattan skyline, glittering in the bright sunlight of a perfect June morning. The big geometric print area rug beneath her feet protected hardwood floors bleached then stained a medium gray that complemented the gray paint on the walls. The ultramodern black sofa and chair sat with a chrome-and-glass coffee table and end tables that matched the desk. The room was the picture of luxury and success that didn’t surprise her. Mitch Ochoa had the Midas touch.
Not to mention good looks and charm.
He glanced up at her and smiled. “Give me two minutes to peruse this, and then we’ll talk specifics.”
Her heart pitter-pattered. When he smiled, it was like the sun breaking over the horizon in her soul. “Sure.”
He smiled again before he began reading.
She told herself not to look at his shiny black hair as he read, but that only took her eyes to his broad shoulders, white shirt and black tie. He was so urbane. Born and raised in Spain, he’d been all over Europe before he’d come to the United States. She had no idea why he’d chosen New York City to start his breakaway business, but every night she’d thanked her lucky stars that he had—
Every night until last night.
Last night, she’d finally realized that she’d been his assistant for an entire year. They’d eaten many a lunch together. Not to mention late-night dinners when they worked until midnight to get something online or to wait for stats at the end of a new product day.
He could have kissed her thirty-seven times. She’d counted.
But while she’d gazed up at him with stars in her eyes, he’d looked down at her with the eyes of a friend. No. Scratch that. He’d looked down at an assistant. She hadn’t even broken the barrier to become his friend.
And last night—
She fought the urge to squeeze her eyes shut as pain and emptiness assaulted her.
Last night, she’d realized he would never see her as anything other than an employee, and she had to start job hunting. As long as she was this close to him day after day, she would continue believing that someday he’d notice her. But if he hadn’t noticed her—not even as a friend—after an entire year of late nights and weekends, he wouldn’t ever notice her. It was time to get on with her life.
And if she really wanted to get on with her life, she had to find a job with a company where she could climb the corporate ladder and eventually earn enough money that she could start looking for her birth mom. They’d been separated when she was ten. Raised in a series of foster homes, she’d been without a family, a place, since then. Finding her birth mom would give her the sense of belonging she’d always yearned for. That meant she had to get away from the distraction of Mitcham Ochoa.
Riccardo cleared his throat. “These numbers look fine, Mitch.” He tossed his copy of the income statement to Mitch’s desk. “So maybe we can finish talking about that thing we were discussing before Lila came in.”
Mitch’s head jerked up. His gaze flew to his cousin, then over to Lila and back to Riccardo again, as if reminding Riccardo they had an employee in the room. “Now?”
“I just want you to see the opportunity you have before you. We were talking about not being able to find a certain person to fulfill a specific job, and suddenly I’m thinking perhaps that person is right under our noses.”
Okay. She wasn’t stupid. They were talking about her. If she was reading this situation correctly, they had a job they needed to fill and she fit the bill. For Mitch to be cautious, the new job had to be a promotion.
Her heart leaped with joy. A promotion would mean more money—maybe enough to hire a private investigator to begin searching for her mom—
Then she remembered that for her sanity and her future, she had to leave Mitch Ochoa’s employ and her heart sank. Wasn’t it just like fate to finally give her a chance at a promotion when she’d decided—firmly decided—it was time to move on? As hard as she’d worked to climb the ladder in this growing company, she also knew herself. Other people might think she simply had a crush on Mitch. But she couldn’t work for someone for a year without getting to know him. In her heart, she genuinely loved him. And promotion or not, she had to leave this job or she’d end up living her life for a man who barely noticed her. Then even if she found her mom, she’d be a broke, single spinster. Not a mom. Not a wife. Not a woman who gave her mom grandkids. She’d be none of the things she longed to be.
She rose from her seat. “I’m not a hundred percent sure what you’re talking about, but I think I should tell you that I—”
Riccardo held up a finger to stop her. “No decisions until you hear us out.”
Mitch said, “Riccardo,” his voice a warning growl.
Riccardo walked behind Lila’s chair, put his hands on her shoulders and sat her down again. In two quick moves, he had her chopstick-like pins out of her chestnut-brown hair, and it fell to her shoulders in a curly waterfall. Then he reached forward and removed her glasses.
If Mitch had done either of those, she probably would have swooned at his touch. Because it was all-business Riccardo, she spun around and gaped at him. “What are you doing?”
He turned her head to face front. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
Mitch blinked. “Oh, my God. Yes.”
“Sí. She is perfect.”
Mitch rose and rounded his desk to lean against it, in front of her. “Pale and delicate to Julia’s dark features.”
“Short and petite where Julia’s a little taller.”
“Smart,” Mitch added.
Riccardo laughed. “I won’t insult Julia by making the obvious comparison.”
Lila looked from Mitch to Riccardo and back to Mitch again. “What comparison? And could I have my glasses back so I can see?”
Riccardo said, “You can’t see without your glasses?”
She took her thick glasses from his hand. “Why else would anyone wear them?”
“Do you have contacts?” Mitch asked quietly, seriously.
Their gazes met and she swallowed hard. For the first time in a year, he wasn’t looking at her as an assistant but as a woman. She wasn’t sure how she knew the difference, except something in his eyes had shifted, changed, and a million fireflies glowed in her stomach.
“Yes. I have contacts. But I only wear them for special occasions.”
Riccardo said, “We have a very special occasion for you.”
“You’re sending me somewhere?”
“I’m taking you somewhere.”
