Steele Hearts: Revelations

Chapter 1

HOLY CRAP ON A cracker Tessa Matthews, you’re going to be late!

My brain screams at me, jolting me out of the slumber i must have fallen into after four this morning. First days, anywhere, and I am a wreck, always, butterflies in my stomach and a restless night the night before. Last night was no different. I hate mornings but not as much as I hate being late and if I didn’t get my butt into gear I was going to be just that. The clock on my nightstand illuminates 7:45. I could be out the door in thirty minutes, grab breakfast and be in my new office by 8:45. Fifteen minutes early and I wouldn’t be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Some people may say I’m neurotic, I like to say I like being on time. I jump off my bed and race towards the bathroom. As I pass the large bay windows in the bedroom, I take a second to gaze out at the astounding view of New York’s Central Park before me this mid March morning. How lucky was I to experience this every morning.

By 8:15, I am out the door, dressed in my favorite black skirt suit, merging into the chaos that is this city. I stop briefly for breakfast and then hustle towards the overpowering buildings that are C. Steele Towers. Stepping through enormous glass doors into a quiet reserved lobby I make my way towards two sharply dressed men behind a sleek wooden desk, the heels of my shoes echoing against the polished marble floor. I present my work credentials and I am waved towards an elevator that reads ‘Private’. I stumble in and enter a code that allows me access to the top floor. As the elevator comes to a halt, I step into the lobby of the executive suite that contains the office of Mr. Steele, owner of C. Steele Industries. As his executive assistant, I was given a modest office connecting his.

I scan the lobby and I am somewhat relieved that the two assistants who staff the reception area are not here. I make my way towards my office door and with a deep breath, I open it.

To new beginnings kid, I mumble to myself before stepping into my office.

Sitting at my desk, trying to acclimated myself with my new surrounding, I reflect on how quickly my life went from a dead end job in Seattle to an executive assistant position in New York.

Hold on to your panties! I’m coming ! I yell, making my way to my door.

The knocking is incessant and there is only one person I know who does that.

Mrs. Montgomery, I said I’m coming!

I open the door with mock flourish and there stands my sixty-six year old neighbor, hand poised in the air ready for another attack against my door.

Hello my darling, were you busy? she asks, with a huge grin on her face.

I know that face. She’s up to no good.

Not really just got in and trying to decide on dinner. Please, come in.

How was your day Mrs. M? I ask, ushering her in into my modest apartment.

It was fine dear. And yours?

"Same as yesterday. Nothing different. Would you care to join me for dinner? I’m leaning towards Italian from DiNosso’s.

That’s fine with me, she hastily replies.

Okay something is definitely up. She never agrees this easily on anything, and I mean anything. She is very opinionated and never afraid to let it show.

Mrs. M. is everything okay?

Yes dear, why do you ask?

I don’t know you just seem… .

Before I could complete my sentence, she cuts me off.

Well there is actually something I need to speak to you about but it could wait until after dinner. She replies with a slight hesitation to her voice.

She actually seems to be a bit nervous. This worries me. I feel the tears pick the back of my eyes as I automatically think the worst. I couldn’t deal with it if something was wrong with her. We’ve been in each other’s lives from the first day we met eight years ago when I was just a lost, lonely eighteen-year-old girl in Seattle trying to reinvent herself. She knows more about me than anyone else ever have or ever will. She’s been with me through the depths of my darkness, picking me up from ashes to rejoicing like a proud mama-bear in my achievements.

You okay Tess? she asks, noting the look of despair on my face.

I love you, you know that right? So, regardless of whatever it is you have to tell me just know I’m here with you and for you okay.

She looks at me, a confused look on her face, before I see understanding overcome her.

Tessa I’m fine, believe me. I have many more years ahead of me.

I’m relieved.

Wait does this mean you’re trying to fix me up, AGAIN!

Shut up and order the food we’ll talk after dinner.

"Okay lay it on me,’ I say with a sigh, as I make myself comfortable on the sofa thirty minutes later.

She takes a deep breath and reaches over for my hand.

Tess honey you know you’re the child I’ve never had and I love you so much and everything I do, I do out of love.

I nod fearing what she might say next.

I’ve gotten you a job interview on Monday with a company named C. Steele Industries. It’s in New York City Tess.

I look at her in disbelief

WHAT? Are you high? Have you been drinking cough syrup again? I ask, remembering the time she read the label on her cough medication wrong and drank twice the recommended dose.

Why would I want to interview for a job in New York City?

Tessa listen to me,

She’s using that tone she uses when she needs to make a point because she knows she’s right, that tone that makes me feel like I was in 7th grade.

You’re the smartest person I know, you’ve earned two master degrees all before you were twenty five. You’re a smart and strong young woman and you don’t need to be stuck in a dead end job at the university that offers no form of challenge. I know you stay there because of the financial benefits the university offers you whenever you decide to further your education but Tess you’ve been there too long. You’re becoming restless and bored. So please, I am begging you, go on this interview. If it doesn’t pan out for you we try something different, but the main thing is we try something new.

I see the intensity and love emanating from her face and I know everything she does for me is to make me better.

It’s as if she’s been reading my mind. For the past couple of months I feel the restlessness and boredom growing inside me.

But how? I ask softly. How did this all happen?

Betsy! she announces.

The it dawns on me Betsy, her sister, works and resides in New York.

I didn’t know Betsy worked for a big company.

She knew Mr. Steele was opening the position for an executive assistant and she immediately thought of you. According to her, Mr. Steele is somewhat of a control freak but his family is convinced he’s overworked. They’ve finally convinced him to hire someone who will work directly with him and help relieve some of his workload. She mentioned it to me and I emailed her a your resume. She passed it on to Mr. Steele and he has agreed to invite you to New York for an interview. He told Betsy he wanted to see you on Monday Tess.

I am speechless. I cannot even begin to think of the endless possibilities that could arise out of this opportunity.

Mrs. M. this is unbelievable. I don’t know what to say.

Say you’ll go Tess.

‘Do you really think I may have a shot at this?"

I do, I really do, she says with utmost conviction.

Then a harsh reality hits me. If I leave Seattle I’m leaving her."

I can’t do it. I just can’t go!

Tess… .

Mrs. M, if I leave, I leave you and I don’t want to do that.

She is my safety net and the only stability I have in my life.

Now might be a good time to tell you then I’m thinking about moving to New York to be with Bets. She has cancer Tess and she’s retiring pretty soon and I just want to be closer to her.

Mrs. M. I’m so sorry, I reply, pulling her in for a hug.

Think of it as new beginnings for both of us Tess.

And so my whirlwind week began. After applying for seven days emergency leave from my job on Thursday I packed my bags and found myself boarding a plane to New York City on Saturday. I arrived and checked into a hotel that Betsy recommended, something that was within walking distance to C. Steele Towers and spent the rest of the weekend wondering around the city, never straying too far from my hotel.

Monday morning I found myself sitting in a huge, understated modern office and met with a very handsome, charismatic, elderly gentleman. As I sat through my interview with Mr. Steele, I couldn’t help but think how far from controlling he seems. His enigmatic blue eyes twinkled as he spoke and his constant smile kept me at ease. After a very extensive interview, I readied myself to leave. We both rose and I extended my hand towards Mr. Steele and thank him for allowing me the opportunity to interview for the available position. He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, took my hand and startled me when he spoke.

I want to offer you the job Ms. Matthews.

I looked him in the eye, shock registering on my face.

I know it seems a bit unconventional but I truly believe you are the best fit for this position. I just need to have our HR department run the required background check and draft a contact for you and if you’ll have us, the job’s yours.

I couldn’t believe what he was saying. I was speechless and I’m sure my mouth was hanging open. When I finally found my voice, all I could manage to say was Thank you with utmost gratitude.

The call came in at four the following afternoon, they wanted me to start the following Monday and as much as I hated leaving my old job with such haste the endless possibilities of my new job eased my guilt. After that, it was a hectic scramble for me to pack up my old life and unpack my new one.

With a quick trip back to Seattle, after signing my contract with C. Steele Industries, I handed in my resignation, closed the lease on my apartment, packed everything that needed to be shipped, packed what I needed to take with me, donated everything else which included all my furniture, to a children’s home and on the second Saturday in a row with, two suitcases in hand, I boarded a plane back to New York City.

I spent all of Sunday exploring every corner of my new apartment after unpacking my modest belongings. It was perched on the top floor of an ultra sophisticated apartment building owned by Mr. Steele and was one of the apartments used to house company executives. At first, I was hesitant in accepting the apartment as part of my contract, but after Mr. Steele insisted it was necessary for security reasons, I relented.

Chapter 2

WHO THE HELL ARE you?

I jump, startled out of my reverie. Bang!!! My knees connect to the bottom of my desk. Still need those thank you.

Ow, ow, owie, owie that hurts like a mother… !

I look up into the face of the hottest man I’ve ever been face to face with, scowling at me. I try standing but find myself falling back on my chair. This deathtrap of a chair will not allow me to stand. I feel my ass sliding of the chair now and me peddling back, as I struggle to regain whatever decorum I have left, is not helping. My skirt gets legs of its own moving in the opposite direction of my ass, one is going up the other going down. I’m now struggling to get a grasp on the chair as well as my skirt and failing miserably. I know within the next couple of seconds my ass is going to hit the floor as I continue to slide of the chair. This is going to be an epic fall and there is nothing I could do to prevent it. I feel the death trap glide out from under me and my ass hits the floor. I instinctively push my arms back to break my fall but my knees jerk back up and again BANG!!! Right at the bottom of my desk again.

So much for decorum, I think to myself as I fall back flat on my back.

Excuse me.

I turn to the right and my eyes connect on a pair of expensive looking shoes. They dart up to the steely blue eyes that are staring down at me.

Hi, I say with a weak smile, hoping he would take pity and help me up.

Who. The. Hell. Are. You? he roars.

Gentleman? I think not.

A little help here please?

My utter humiliation does not want to end.

First who are you and what are you doing here?

Okay definitely not a gentleman. My body finally seems to understand the concept of coordination my brain tried submitting before and in one of my most unladylike acts, I haul my ass of the floor.

Thanks for the help, I snort.

Okay, one more time, who the hell are you? And what are you doing here?

I work here! I snap at the rude yet incredible handsome man.

God, he has an absolutely sinful face. He belongs on the cover of a magazine or in movies. He’s like a photo-shopped God standing before me. Tussled blonde hair that belongs on a bad biker boy rather than someone wearing a business suit, deep blue eyes that remind me of the mysterious yet intriguing depths of the ocean, eyes I could loose myself in, chiseled jaw accentuated by the most beautiful, pouted, red lips I have ever seen on a man.

Get a grip lady, he’s only a man! my inner voice chides.

A knock interrupts my perusal and simultaneously we both yell come in. Mr. Steele walks into the office, a huge smile on his face.

I see you’re here early, he greets me kindly.

Before I could respond, Mr. Sinful butts in.

Dad, he barks

Dad? Did he just say Dad?

Care to explain dad? He gestures to me.

Yep, there it was again dad. Mr. Sinful is the boss’s son.

Did you forget son, I told you I hired the executive assistant.

You told me you hired a Mr. Matthews dad. I came in here expecting to find a Mr. Matthews not some collage kid. You assured me you were going to find someone with the experience this position demand, he barks at Mr. Steele.

Son… Even Mr. Steele cannot get a word in edgewise.

I knew this was a bad idea, Mr. Sinful continues, The last thing this office needs is some inexperienced little tart.

I have heard enough. The arrogance of this man is unbelievable. Now anyone who knows me knows that my mouth tend to have a mind of it’s own, regardless of the situation or the consequences and right now its about to explode on the boss’s son, without consideration for the fact that my new boss is standing right there.

I turn and stand directly in front of Mr. Sinful and give my most intimidating look as my mouth launches into a full attack.

Listen here buddy,

I poke him in the chest. Yes, I cannot believe it myself but I poked him in that firm, steely chest. My inner voice giggles at the apt description, Mr. Steele’s steely chest.

From all your hollering I get you’re my boss’s son, but you’re very rude and arrogant. Unless you’re hearing impaired, and only then you should be forgiven for your shouting, then you owe your father an apology for shouting at him.

He stares at me, his magnetic blue eyes filled with shock. My guess is this is a man who answers to no one and expects answers whenever needed without demanding them, but it still does not give him the right to shout at people, especially when they’re standing right next to him.

I look at Mr. Steele, who looks equally as shocked as his son does but somewhat intrigued by my outburst, before focusing on Mr. Sinful again.

"Your dad didn’t hire a Mr. Matthews he hired a Ms. Matthews, that’s me and even though you may assume I’m just out of collage, I can assure I’m not, neither am I some little tart. If your dad didn’t think I was qualified for this job then I wouldn’t be here