“Good, you’re back. We have to go through today’s minutes and compile a list of the most pertinent facts. Then take care of the day’s correspondence. You get started on that; I have to make a few phone calls.”

He turned away from her and lifted his phone to his ear.

Cleo stared at his broad back for a moment before trudging over to the laptop with a muffled sigh.

She wondered if he’d ordered room service yet; she was starving.

She glanced around the room and gasped in outrage when she saw the room-service cart standing off to the side of the room, with the uncovered empty plates precariously stacked one on top of the other.

Another quick look around the room told her that there was definitely no other food around.

Had he actually forgotten to order something for her?

Was the man wholly incapable of thinking of anybody but himself?

She picked up the room telephone to order her own meal, but he had finished his call and cast her a sharp look.

“Stop wasting time, Knight,” he growled, tapping away at the screen of his phone.

“We have a lot of work to do. I didn’t bring you along to sit around looking pretty and doing nothing.”

The injustice of that statement left her fuming, and she bit back a sarcastic retort, knowing that she had no alternative but to swallow down the anger she felt toward him.

Cleo knew that—due to the last-minute nature of this trip—she’d been his only choice as assistant.

And since the man had avoided testing her full potential in the office up until now, he didn’t trust her to get anything done competently.

Still, Cleo had jumped at the opportunity to join him.

The heady excitement of a trip to Japan combined with the desire to prove herself capable of doing this job to both Dante Damaso and to herself had proved hard to resist.

Yet now, feeling completely overwhelmed, all she wanted was to run back home with her tail between her legs.

All because her boss was doing his level best to be an ass.

Don’t respond!

Don’t respond!

She repeated the two words over and over to herself.

No mouthing off at the boss, no matter how much he deserved it.

An hour and a half later, after they had powered their way through a series of e-mails and memos and had pored over her notes from the day’s many meetings, Cleo was starting to feel cross-eyed from staring at the computer screen too long.

Her brain was scrambled, and she was practically drooping with exhaustion.

Even though she hadn’t eaten since the flight—a decade ago—she was too damned tired even to think about her stomach.

Dante Damaso peered at her when she stopped tapping at the keys and frowned over the top of his black-rimmed glasses.