by Chloe Grey
I tensed at his name. Zane must have felt it, too, because he started massaging my shoulders again.
“I’d prefer it if we called him Mr. Asshole from now on.”
“You already have a Mr. Asshole. Remember Thom-”
My ponytail dropped as I covered my ears. “La la la la. I can’t hear you.”
I could see Zane rolling his eyes. “Oh, right. I forgot. Never mention your ex’s names.”
“Correct.” I resumed hair business. “He can be Mr. Asshole two for all I care.”
“You only give names to your exes. Why him? You haven’t even dated him.”
“No one would,” I said. “He only has the looks and—”
“Really good looks,” Zane commented.
“—and that is literally all he has. Even if he dated someone, she would eventually notice his assholeness and run for the hills.”
“Who said anything about a ‘she’?”
I frowned. “You think he’s gay?”
“I don’t know. I’m going to find out though.”
Zane stopped his massaging. I turned around. “You’re going to date Mr. Asshole two?”
He smiled. “I’m going to try.”
“Didn’t you hear a word I just said? It’s going to end in disaster. I thought we both agreed we were done with toxic relationships. That’s why I’m so picky now. You should be too.”
He shrugged. “Well...”
“Nevermind. Do as you wish, but I can’t wait to tell you I told you so.” I posed in front of him. “How do I look anyway?”
“Great. You always look great.”
I remembered something and cringed. “High heels. Do I have to wear them?”
“Yes.” Zane pushed me towards the door. “You better wear them. I chipped in so you could buy them, remember? Also, don't forget to bring tissues. It must suck being sick on the first day of work, but I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll wear them.”
“Good luck at work, cookie.”
I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks.”
Chapter 4
I reached the high rise building fifteen minutes before eight. I had arrived much earlier, but finding a parking spot was hell.
Just like I had the first time, I stopped in front of the skyscraper and gazed up. The building was seriously impressive, a gleaming spire of sapphire that pierced through the clouds. The interior was just as alluring—and intimidating.
I remembered feeling the most nervous I had ever been in my entire life walking to my interview dressed exactly as I was now. Who wouldn’t be? First job out of college and already working in a skyscraper.
My high heels clicking on the marble tiles didn’t help my nerves either. I was sure I was simulating an injured penguin walking around in them. Somehow I’d managed to keep my nerves together and not throw up.
When I received the call offering me the position, I couldn’t believe it. There had been like two dozen interviewees, all of whom looked much more professional than I was—and definitely possessing better degrees than a creative writing one. I had to ask the lady on the phone to repeat herself three times.
Zane took me out to celebrate after I told him the good news. I didn’t remember much of that night, but I managed to find myself lying flat on my living room floor with a massive headache when I woke up. My best friend swore he would never touch a shot glass again, a promise he broke two days later.
I closed my eyes and took a dozen deep breaths. After a couple of minutes of mentally preparing myself, I walked into the tall building.
Putting on a fake smile, I showed my ID card to security, and the guy behind the desk directed me to the eleventh floor.
Jesus, I thought as I entered the golden elevator. I really didn’t belong here. But I remembered the words of I-forgot-who, “Fake it till you make it.” That was exactly what I would do, or at least attempt to do.
Since nobody was in the elevator with me, I took the opportunity to clear my nose, feeling my nerves growing as the floor number ticked up.
Eleven floors later, I walked through more glass doors than I had ever seen in my life. I reached a pretty receptionist who sat behind a huge stylish desk.
“You must be Audrey,” she greeted me, standing up and smiling wide.
I forced a smile, hoping it wasn’t as tight-lipped as my insides.
“Yes, I am.”
“I’m Sam. Nice to meet you.”
We made some small talk. Minutes went by, and I felt a little more relaxed. I think that was her intent all along because I sure looked like a nervous wreck.
Sam wasn’t short for Samantha like I’d initially thought. It was just Sam and she had worked here for close to two years.
“It’s great here,” she told me after I laughed at a joke she made and asked her how the working environment was.
“No horrible bosses then?”
“No,” she said, twirling her pink hair on her index finger. “They’re all pretty relaxed. It’s nothing like my old job.” Her smile widened. “But you’re lucky.”
“How so?”
“You will be working under... Mr. H.”
“Mr. H?”
“Yes,” she giggled. “It stands for Mr. Hot. Every woman on this floor calls him that. Even the guys have started calling him that. It’s like an inside joke although it isn’t a joke. Mr. H is the big boss. But he’s really hot and young and nice and cool.”
“Oh.” I thought about Kevin, I mean, Mr. Asshole two. Would this Mr. H be more attractive than him? Judging by how excited Sam was, it was possible.
“You’ll see. Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Sam stood up and gestured for me to follow.
I couldn’t remember everyone’s names, losing track after Connor and Jayce. Or was it Cooper? I couldn’t recall. But I was feeling excited nevertheless. Everyone seemed friendly, and Sam made small talk with me between new faces. I found it easy to talk to her, and she seemed like she could be a great friend—and I really needed some friends. I’d left most of my old ones behind when I moved here with Zane. Mom had encouraged the move because she thought New York City was a gold mine for opportunities. My dad, of course, agreed with her. I had never seen my dad disagree with her about anything.
I sighed.
Love.
“And finally...” Sam stopped in front of a door.
“Mr. H?” I guessed.
The yes from her came out in a breathless whisper.
She pointed to a desk opposite the door. It was identical to the one she used. Expensive, huge, and intimidating. “That will be your desk.”
I just nodded, scared and speechless.
She lifted a hand to knock. “You ready to meet him?”
Jeez, what was with all this hype? He couldn’t be that hot. I wanted so badly to peek through the floor-to-ceiling glass that outlined every single wall in the office. How could anyone be okay with that? There was no privacy since everyone could look inside and see what you were doing. But if I did that, it would be rude—and weird.
I exhaled a breath I had been holding. “Yes.”
She knocked, giggled, and recollected herself all in a second. “Sir, your new secretary is here.”
“Come in.” A rich silky masculine voice. The voice sounded familiar. Awfully familiar.
The door opened, and I smiled a thanks when Sam gestured me in first.
Mr. H was typing on his laptop, his head down and close to the screen. His desk was huge, too, and looked way more expensive than mine.
“One second,” Mr. H said. Sam giggled.
It wasn’t a second. We stood there for a minute. Two minutes. Three. Sam didn’t seem bothered. She was smiling and gazing at him dreamily.
I took the downtime to study Mr. H. I couldn’t see his face, but he was no doubt built. His navy blue two-piece suit couldn’t hide his broad shoulders and thick arms. I found it odd he wasn’t wearing a watch. Shouldn’t someone as
wealthy as him wear something like a Rolex? But it was bad for me to judge someone like that. Maybe he disliked watches.
After a full four minutes, he finally spoke. “Alright.” He stood up and faced us. “I’m sure Sam has brie—”
I was sure I looked as shocked as he was. Because standing there, right in front of me, was Mr. Asshole two.
Chapter 5
We both talked at the same time.
“Audrey?”
“Mr. Asshole two?”
I didn’t mean to say that. I didn’t know why I said that. It just slipped out as soon as I saw him.
The room went silent. Mr. Asshole two was looking at me. Sam was looking at me. Hell, I felt like the cactus on his desk was looking at me too. I wanted a hole to open up and swallow me whole.
Sam was the first to speak. She looked between him and me. “Do you guys know each other?”
“Yes,” I said, still staring at my boss like he had two heads. “He is my roo—”
Mr. Asshole two coughed and then he cleared his throat. “Yes, we have met before. At the, uh, the lobby. I just didn’t know she had applied for this position so I was surprised.” He cleared his throat again. “You can leave, Sam.”
She gave him a half smile. “Okay.” Then she looked at me all weirdly before leaving, closing the door behind her.
Mr. Asshole two looked at me. “What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?”
“I work here.”
“I work here too.” I saw my book on his desk beside an oval shaped lamp. Why hadn’t I notice it before?
“Mr. Asshole two? Did I hear that correctly?”
I should have denied saying it. I knew I should have denied saying it. But instead, I went for the ‘it’s nothing’ route.
“Oh, that.” I tried to laugh but it came out as a shrill cry. “It’s nothing.”
“You gave me that nickname?”
My cheeks felt flushed. I shook my head, my brain finally realizing that I should have denied. But it was too late. “No, I didn’t.”
“Obviously, you did,” he replied. “You’re probably pissed from the time we first met.” I didn’t say anything, so he continued. “When I told you to move it? And then last night when I made fun of your last name? But what I don’t get is the two.”
“It’s nothing. It’s—”
He turned around and pressed a button on his desk. Like magic, all the glass around us became opaque, shutting the world away.
Crossing his muscular arms, he sat on the edge of his desk, his bright blue eyes staring intensely at mine. “Who’s asshole number one?”
I crossed my arms too. “Nobody.”
He sighed. “Audrey, I’m not letting you leave until you tell me.”
I doubted he could do that. But I also didn’t want to be fired on my first day. I really needed this job. “Why do you want to know, anyway?”
He raised a dark brow. “Why do I want to know? If someone called you Mr. Asshole two, wouldn’t you be curious who has you beat?”
I caved. The information wasn’t important anyway. “Mr. Asshole one is Thomas.”
“And why is he asshole number one?”
“Because he cheated on me.” I could feel myself getting angrier. Apparently, I hadn’t gotten over it yet, no matter how many times I tried to convince myself otherwise. I spat the rest of the words out, the venom in my voice surprising even myself. “With a waitress he met in a bar.”
He was silent. When he spoke, his tone was low. “I’m sorry. No one deserves that.”
That surprised me a little. I didn’t think the word ‘sorry’ existed in his vocabulary. “Thanks.”
“Zane is a good guy. I’m sure he will treat you well.”
“Zane?” I tilted my head. “He’s gay.”
“What?” His frown deepened. “Then why do you sleep with him?”
“We only share a room. He used to sleep in yours. We decided to bunk up because we needed a third person to split the rent.”
He nodded slowly. “You’re single then?”
I fidgeted a little. There was something about an insanely attractive man asking if you were available. “Yes.”
“You’re single...” he repeated, rubbing his chin. He straightened himself up and nodded again. “I had no idea you had applied for the position. I wasn’t present in the interviews because I was busy and trusted Gabe to do them for me.”
I remembered Gabe. He was a stocky man that had asked me a million questions.
I uncrossed my arms. “Can I ask you something?”
He didn’t answer me, so I pressed on. “Why are you here? I mean, you are the boss, right? Why live in a shitty apartment with us?”
He circled back to his chair and sat. “Sam will prep you on your daily tasks. Since today is your first day, I don’t expect you to be perfect, but I want you to learn quickly.”
He started typing on his laptop, so I decided that was my cue to leave.
“And Audrey?”
I looked back.
He was still focused on his laptop. “Don’t tell anyone we’re roommates. Is that clear?”
“Crystal.”
SAM WOULDN’T STOP ASKING me about what just happened.
“Did you really call Mr. H an asshole?”
“What did he do to you?”
“How did you meet in the lobby?”
“When did you meet him?”
Sighing, I faced her. “I told you, it just slipped off my tongue by accident. I didn’t mean to call him that.”
“Hmm.”
I could tell she was not buying it, but to my relief, she stopped asking me about him.
Sam trained me for a couple of hours before leaving me to my own devices. Being a secretary was tougher than I expected. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but this job required a lot of multi-tasking. I took so many notes my hand started hurting, prepared a butt load of invoices, processed documents and forms, printed out a crapload of stuff, answered the phone, and had to do a million other things.
After answering the phone for the two hundredth time in several hours and missing lunch, I looked over at Mr. Asshole two. He had changed his wall glass back to see-through so I could sneak glances whenever I wanted.
Thirty minutes ago, he was typing on his laptop. Twenty minutes ago, he was on a call. Ten minutes ago, he was back to his laptop. Now, he was reading my book with his feet propped up on his desk.
He noticed me. I quickly looked away.
The buzzer on my desk sounded, signaling that he needed me. I looked up. He gestured for me to come over.
Taking a couple of deep breaths and clearing my mind, I went into his office. My nose was clearing up, so I could finally smell his delicious pineapple scent as I entered.
I crinkled my nose and stood in front of his desk with my hands clasped in front of me, trying my best to look all sweet and cute. “You called for me, Mr. A?”
He put his feet down. “My name begins with a—oh.”
I smiled at him.
He didn’t return my smile. Actually, I had never seen him smile before. He set my book aside and pointed toward the door. “Close the door. Always close the door whenever you come in here.”
I closed the door.
“Have you finished preparing my schedule for tomorrow?” he asked, standing up and sitting on the edge of his desk. Unlike before, we were closer, just inches away from each other. A couple of people passed by and shot us curious glances. He muttered something and changed the glass to opaque.
“Not yet,” I replied. “A lot of clients have been calling and—”
“Nevermind that,” he cut in, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I have something more important to ask you.”
My pulse raced, my mind thinking of a million different questions he might ask. “What is it?”
“Is it a boy or a girl?” When I stared at him confused, he gestured to my book with a curt nod. “Abraham and Jenny’s baby. Boy or gi
rl?”
Now I got it. I had left my book with my characters getting married and Jenny being pregnant. I had never mentioned the gender of the baby.
I stared at him incredulously. “You called me here just to ask that?”
“Yes.” He didn’t offer anything more.
This wasn’t a joke. He really called me here just to ask me that.
I spoke. “I left it up to the reader’s imagination.”
He furrowed his brow. “And why would you do that?”
I shrugged. “I thought it was a good idea.”
He took his hands out of his pockets and crossed them. “It’s not.”
Silence. We were dueling a stare down again. Even though the office was well air-conditioned, the air around us felt hot and heavy.
“If that is all,” I started, “I will just...” I gestured outside with a thumb over my shoulder and turned around in slow motion.
“Audrey.”
“Yes?” I pivoted to face him four times faster than what was necessary.
“Don’t forget your book,” he said. He got up and grabbed it, all the while his eyes never leaving mine. He held out the book. I walked to him and took it. Thankfully, it looked like it was in perfect condition. He hadn’t bent the pages. I frowned when he didn’t let go.
“You don’t need to lend me the others,” he told me. “I went ahead and bought the rest of your books on Amazon.” He released his grip, and I almost fell backward because of the damn high heels.
“Uh.” I didn’t know what to say to this weird whirlwind of events. “Thanks?” I forced out a laugh. It wasn’t really a laugh, more like a short, nervous cry. “I will—I will just go back to work now.”
He nodded, and I swore his eyes showed laughter. “You do that.”
Chapter 6
“If his three fifteen collides with his three o’clock, you will have to reschedule one of them,” Sam told me, leaning over my shoulder and checking my screen. “Normally meetings should be spread at least thirty minutes apart, so call the three fifteen back and reschedule.”
“Oh, okay.” I deleted the three fifteen meeting. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. You’re doing great.”
