LITMIR.BIZ

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he didn't need her to translate contracts, because there were attorneys and paraprofessionals on staff who were well versed in languages and legal terms to do that. What he needed from Vivienne was strictly personal.

      Lowering his feet, he swung around, picked up the telephone receiver and tapped an extension. It was rare that Diego made direct contact with any of his managers. He usually left that task to Lourdes Wallace, his secretary, or as she preferred—executive assistant.

      “Human Resources, Caitlin Novak speaking.”

      The corners of Diego's mouth inched upward. Within three months of taking over as CEO, he'd instituted subtle changes that he'd believed were a long time coming. At a staff meeting the employees were informed that whenever they answered the telephone they were to identify their department and themselves, giving their full names. An incident involving a representative from an overseas bank, who was placed on hold indefinitely, had become the impetus for the mandate.

      “Caitlin, this is Diego. I want you to contact Ms. Neal and let her know that she's hired.”

      A slight gasp came through the earpiece. “But, I haven't checked her references.”

      “You can check her references later. I need her for this weekend. I want you to messenger an official offer letter. Also, make arrangements to have her clothes and whatever else she'll need delivered to my house.”

      There came a pause before Caitlin spoke again. “Is there anything else, Diego?”

      “I can't think of anything right now. Thank you, Caitlin.”

      “You're welcome.”

      It was done. He'd hired the widow of one of Washington's rising political stars to become his personal assistant. Now, he had to make one more call—this to confirm if Vivienne Neal was qualified to function as his personal hostess, also.

      Diego dialed a number that went directly to voice mail. “Jacob, this is Diego. I need you to find out what you can on a Vivienne Kay Neal Gregory. She happens to be Sean Gregory's widow. Please get back to me before Friday. Later.”

      He hung up feeling more relaxed than he had in months. It wouldn't take weeks or even days to find out whether Vivienne Neal was suited for the position as his personal assistant. However, she would be put to the test this upcoming weekend. Face, body, intelligence and experience aside—he would let her go as quickly as the two before her.

      Chapter 2

      “Don't believe him, Blair!” Vivienne screamed at the television. “Todd Manning lied to you before and he'll do it again,” she said, continuing her rant.

      A basket filled with clothes she'd taken out of the dryer and folded sat at her feet. It'd been more than a decade since she'd watched her soap operas. All My Children and One Life to Live, as well as life in Pine Valley and Landview had seemingly stood still. The principal characters hadn't aged, while their children were now adults with children of their own.

      In a way, her life had paralleled a soap opera. She'd known the moment she saw Sean Gregory that she would one day become his wife. Perhaps it was because Sean was her brother's college roommate, or maybe it was because everyone claimed they were so well suited to each other.

      They became engaged a week following his law school graduation and married a year before he threw his hat into the political ring, winning the seat his father had vacated in the previous election when he retired due to failing health. The elder Gregory lived long enough to witness his son being sworn in as a member of Congress before succumbing to a rare blood disorder. Elizabeth Deavers Gregory, who'd buried her husband and then her son, was now a recluse.

      Although she and Sean had talked about starting a family, their timing was always off. And whenever Congress was in recess and Sean returned to Stamford it wasn't to spend time with his wife. Congressman Gregory's social calendar was filled with golf outings, yacht and lawn parties, backyard cookouts, and lunch and dinner meetings with constituents whom he could count on to back his reelection bid.

      The chiming of Vivienne's cell phone interrupted her thoughts, and she reached down between the cushions of the sofa to answer it. “Hello.”

      “I'd like to speak to Vivienne Neal.”

      “This is she.”

      “Ms. Neal, this is Caitlin Novak, and I'm calling to inform you that we would like to welcome you to ColeDiz International as our newest employee.”

      Vivienne felt her stomach muscles contract. “Are you saying I'm hired?”

      “That's exactly what I'm saying, Ms. Neal.”

      “But…but you told me you had to check my references.”

      “We will, but it's just that Mr. Cole-Thomas needs an assistant this coming weekend.”

      Vivienne went completely still. “This weekend?” she repeated. “Are you talking about the day after tomorrow?”

      “Yes, Ms. Neal. And, because we are dealing with such a short time frame, I suggest you pack whatever you'll need as quickly as possible. Mr. Cole-Thomas wants you ready to begin working Friday evening.”

      She wanted to tell the personnel director that Mr. Cole-Thomas was fortunate because she only had to pack her clothes and personal items, but didn't. Her winter clothes, along with her furniture, were in a Connecticut warehouse.

      “You'll receive a packet from a messenger service later this afternoon. He's been instructed to wait while you sign several documents we'll need to complete your employment process. I'm also including the name and number of a moving company that will transport your possessions to Mr. Cole-Thomas's house.”

      Vivienne tried processing all that'd happened that morning. She'd been interviewed by a man who unsettled her more than she'd wanted to admit, hired four hours later and was expected to move in with him before the start of the weekend.

      “Please let Mr. Cole-Thomas know that I'll move in tomorrow.”

      There came a pause before Caitlin said, “I'm sorry, Ms. Neal, but that may prove to be a problem.”

      There was something in the personnel director's voice that sounded ominous. “What kind of a problem?”

      “Mr. Cole-Thomas expects you to move in today. If you require assistance packing, then I'll have someone come over and help you. Don't worry about moving supplies…”

      “Kindly tell Mr. Cole-Thomas that it's impossible for me to move in today, even with assistance,” Vivienne said, interrupting the woman.

      There was no way she was going to jump just because her so-called new boss asked her. After all, as an employee she did have rights. He'd probably fired her two predecessors because they weren't willing to give in to his unreasonable demands.

      There was another pause on the other end of the line. “I'll let Mr. Cole-Thomas know that you won't be available until tomorrow.”

      Vivienne managed a tight smile although Caitlin couldn't see her. “Thank you.”

      She ended the call, fuming inwardly. The nerve of him! He wasn't a boss, but a tyrant. If, and she meant if, they were to have an association of any duration, then he would come to know that Vivienne Neal didn't frighten easily, nor had she ever been one to play fetch.

      Within minutes her cell phone rang again; she recognized the number on the display. “I guess you've heard,” she said without her usual greeting.

      “I can't believe he hired you so quickly,” Alicia said, her voice rising in excitement.

      “He wants me to move in today,” she informed her friend.

      “What's the problem, Viv? You only have to pack your clothes and books. I can run you over to his house when I get off.”

      “That won't be necessary. He's arranged to have someone move my things.”

      “Then what's the holdup? Don't

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