She needed a job, he needed a personal assistant. It seemed like a match made in heaven until he laid out the rules he expected her to follow.
He rose and went to his desk, where he pulled out a sheaf of papers. "These are the rules I've established. You already know most of them and any you aren't aware of, I'll let slide the first time."
Swallowing, she glanced at the stack he held. "That's a lot of paper."
"True, although much of what the document contains is common sense. You will be my personal assistant, answerable only to me. As such, I will want and need you to do some things you might find objectionable at first."
"Like I will want you to purchase a whole new wardrobe, at my expense. I want to send you to a woman who knows my tastes, and she will outfit you. I will also insist you go to the hairstylist to receive a more professional cut than your current style. Even though I find ponytails cute on you, I do not find them acceptable on my executive admin. In addition to the haircut, I will request they give you a manicure." He examined her hands. "You bite your nails?"
"Only when I'm nervous."
"Not anymore. Nail biting is now a punishable offense."
"Not getting enough sleep or failing to eat properly will become a punishable offense."
"Are you planning to control my entire life?"
"In essence, yes, I am. I will be the final arbitrator of all discussions, and I decide what is best for you."
"I'm not a child, Mr. Peterson."
"I believe we've already established that fact, Miss Weston. However, as my admin, you represent me, and I have standards to maintain."