His name is Darius Asher. He is a 40 year old bad, boy millionaire with a face and a body that have every woman drooling over him, and he does have a reputation for having his way with practically every woman he wants, but there was a rumour that he was looking for a wife, and of course every single woman from 18 and up was flinging themselves at him, except me. I was the nerdy 18 year old that had just received a job as a personal assistant at Asher enterprises. Yes, I was obviously not blind to the perfect man in the room directly to my right, but I wanted to keep my job. I dressed professionally every day, and I only kept my cleavage visible in a modest way. I didn’t use a push-up bra to show my babies off as every other woman in this building did, and my shoes were comfortable, not w**
