Liam's POV
I stared at my phone, irritation still simmering beneath my skin. That voice—soft yet firm, with just a hint of defiance—had gotten under my skin in a way I couldn't explain.
"Hazel Vance," I muttered, tossing my phone onto the hotel bed.
The New York skyline glittered beyond my penthouse suite windows, but I couldn't appreciate the view. My mind kept replaying that brief, annoying conversation with my new assistant.
Why the hell was I even thinking about her? I'd been unnecessarily harsh, but that wasn't unusual for me. Employees came and went. Some lasted months, others days. Evelyn was the exception—twenty-five years of loyal service, and now she was abandoning me too.
My phone rang. Speak of the devil.
"Evelyn," I answered, my tone clipped.
"You scared your new assistant half to death," she said without preamble, amusement evident in her voice.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I wasn't expecting a stranger to answer your phone."