Before leaving, the pair got free coffee and countless apologies from the boss. After that, he called me to his office and a second wave of yelling and ridiculing started.
"Are you out of your mind, Chloe? I gave you a chance and you blew it on my face. You couldn't have come at a worse time. There's nothing I can do but fire you. You're a menace and I don't have the time and resources to train an adult how to hold a pitcher."
I didn't talk back to either of them. I'm not one to start or end a fight, but right now, still staring into that café, I really hope I did. I would have punched them both in the face and told them that I don't deserve that treatment that no one deserves to be treated like that. People are not born to serve coffees. Let's get robots to do that, for God's sake. It's the 21st century.
But now everything is over, together with the confidence I built up to apply for this job. I look at the time and see that if I don't hurry, I'll lose the bus home. Usually, I wouldn't care for a simple thing like that, but it's one of those days that even a small win is a win overall. And I need this more than ever.
As I turn to get away from this wretched place, I spot a limousine getting closer to me from the distance. It's a big road and it's not like I haven't seen a limousine before, but this time it's different. I imagine the two businessmen riding the luxurious car with that arrogant smug of theirs and I want to toss a stone theirs way, to hurt them in any way I can.
Only that I’m wrong.
The car parks in front of me, leading to my jaw dropping from the surprise. In my mind, I was thinking that it would continue down the road, but it didn't; it stopped right at my site.
The man inside lowers one of the tinted windows slowly, in a movie-like speed. Is he trying to build a dramatic suspense or something? It certainly works, especially when the face behind the limousine finally gets revealed.
Unable to hold myself back, I exclaim. “It’s you!”
He grins with those perfect teeth of his. He's awesome and I act like an infatuated teenager.
“Hello to you, too, Ms. Chloe. It’s miss, right?”
"Um...I...yeah. I'm single," I reply, even though I'm more than aware that this isn't what he asked.
"Perfect. A position in my company opened recently and I'd like to discuss the possibility of working with you. Are you interested?"
My mouth shapes a wide O from the surprise; suddenly, I'm glad I visited my dentist last week. "Yes, of course. Absolutely!" I sound too eager, however, it doesn't feel like it's about the job. "I...um...can I have an address or something?"
The man smiles at me and bends forward to pick up a card. "Here you are. Come tomorrow at 10 am. We'll make sure there are no pitchers with hot coffee this time," he jokes.
I want to laugh but it's like one of those times when you meet your favorite celebrity and want to act natural and cool but you mess miserably? Yeah, something like that.
I make an awkward sound that's something between choking and giggling before grabbing the card from his hands. "Okay. I'll be there tomorrow morning. Thank you so much, Mr. ..."
“It’s Deacon Stamford. But please, call me Deacon. All my employees use my first name,” he says.
I nod. I look at the stylish black card with the golden letters and quickly get the feeling that I'm supposed to say something.
"Okay...Deacon. Thank you again for this opportunity. You don't know what this means to me."
His last grin is warm, understanding. "Don't worry. That bastard deserved everything he got. I wouldn't have done it better myself. So, Ms. Chloe, I would love to stay and chat with you, but I really have to go. We'll talk again tomorrow. I hope you have a good day," he says and signs his driver to leave.
I don't know how many minutes (or hours) I stand still looking at the road. Did he just offer me a job in his office?
Chapter 2
Do you know the meaning of the word ‘misplaced'? That certain sentiment that leaves you feeling like you're in the wrong place at the wrong time? I mean, you must have felt misplaced at least once in your life. Track back your memories to that certain moment and multiply it ten times.
Yeah. That's how I'm feeling right now. Misplaced. I did my research about Deacon Stamford last night, but I never thought that the man was one of the richest bachelors of the city. Okay, my research might have derailed to pictures of him and his many flings, but you can't accuse a girl of being interested in a man; especially this man.
Deacon Stamford; a rising star of the business department, with a net worth passing that of many known celebrities. Who would have thought that men like him stroll around town without security, ending up on shady cafeterias on the other side of the city? Deacon certainly doesn't fit the bill of a billionaire, but I guess he must be to own this company.
Back to the subject at hand then. Why do I feel misplaced? I'm riding one of the most luxurious elevators I've ever seen, wearing a pair of tight pants and a red shirt. No one ever taught me the meaning of "dress for success" so I just "dress to get by the day". Being a medium height, brunette girl, I have caught my hair in a messy bun and adopted the style of the personal assistant in the old movies. I feel like I own the world riding that elevator.
Which is the complete opposite of what I felt yesterday.
Deacon Stamford is the person I have to thank for this opportunity, the man with those striking blue eyes. I can't forget his glance when he rode away on his limousine, almost thanking me for dropping that hot coffee on his friend's lap. Even now I grin at the thought of that moment. I swear he was grateful that the things turned out the way they did.
Nevertheless, the ride to the top is a long one. This building must have more than fifty floors. The buttons on the lift go all the way to fifty-two, so I guess that's that. The people down in the reception hall gave me a card and some papers to fill in before I could even leave the entrance lobby. They said something about signing an NDA and things like that, but I wasn't really paying attention.
I'm closer than ever to obtaining a job of my dreams, a job away from the embarrassment of clumsiness and messiness, a job working for the most handsome billionaire.
The glass elevator gives a perfect view of the city. Is that the view all Deacon's employees see every day? Is that the view he sees every day? Something about that thought gives me the chills. So much power gathered in one man is both terrifying and alluring. I was never into alpha males because I never thought they would be into me.
I mean, movies don't show girls with flabby stomachs ending up with the man of their dreams. But I guess I get why men like Deacon can have any woman they want. Money, power, charisma, and the muscles to bond all these together to a package writing "perfect man" on the cover.
The elevator finally slows down to a stop and the automated doors open to a huge floor decorated with expensive furniture and a secretary office in the middle. A thin wall is separating the room from the waiting room and Deacon's office. Is he the one that will be interviewing me?
My stomach tenses to a knot and my knees feel weak. I don't want to get in there, not before losing all the extra pounds and visiting my hairstylist to give me a better look. But this is no time to chicken out; I need this job more than I need Deacon's affection.
After steeling myself, I take a step forward and enter the room. The secretary's office is empty but I have the feeling it won't be for long. As I walk closer to one of those designer armchairs, I think I hear laughter coming from inside the office. It doesn't strike me as weird; I know that I would be laughing all the time if I was the CEO of a company like this.
It sounds like the distinctive ring of the elevator created a short upheaval inside the office. Feet are rushing to the door and soon, I meet the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
I spring on my feet and get ready to greet her. On her stead, she smiles while holding a small tablet in her hands. That’s it before she sees me.
“Excuse me; did you lose your way?” That is the first thing she says to me.
<
br /> Dread and anxiety fill my body. "Um...no, I think not. Deacon said I should be here at 10 am to go through an interview for a job?" I didn't mean to end my sentence with a question, but there was something in her presence that drove me to that outcome.
"Are you that girl from the coffee shop?" she replies to me, promptly.
"Yeah. I guess that's me."
Her eyes travel up and down my body before ending up on my face. God, I hate her inquisitive gaze. Why do I feel like I'm judged for just being here?
"Follow me then. Mr. Stamford is waiting for you," she says and turns her back to me.
This woman is the exact opposite of me; skinny, with the perfect, golden hair, green eyes, expensive clothes, and of course, the confidence to shine. She's tall but wearing a pair of black, stylish heels make her seem gigantic in a charismatic way. I guess Deacon likes his secretaries hot.
I follow her close behind but it feels like I’m heading to my execution. She doesn't talk, doesn’t try to be funny or calm me down, and of course, doesn’t give a shit if I need this job. She just wants to get this over and done with.
She comfortably strolls through the office's door into the other half of the room. In my surprise, Deacon's office is humble in a minimalistic way. The furniture in here is of the same quality as the rest of the floor, but his desk is a messy hell of papers, pens, and computer screens.
Once again, I have the feeling that Deacon doesn’t belong in here even more than I do.
His secretary hems after she slows down to a stop a couple feet away from one of the two armchairs meant for Deacon’s guest. “Ms. Chloe has arrived, Mr. Stamford.”
His head pops; he stops whatever he’s doing and starts staring me in the eyes. “Ms. Chloe! It’s so nice to see you again.” His eyes and that naughty smirk of his do a great job of untying that tight knot inside my stomach, but don’t help reduce the rattling of my knees. I’ll need to have a seat soon if he continues to look at me that way.
"Good morning, Mr. Stamford," I copy that woman's manner; it doesn't feel natural to speak to Deacon using his first name in front of her. "It's nice to see you, too."
We smile at each other for a long minute.
"I see you've met Linda. Usually, she's the one that takes care of the interviews, but I asked her to include me in this one. Do you mind?"
I shake my head. Of course, I don't mind.
"Great then. Please, don't mind me. I'll be a silent observer. Go on, Linda."
The woman isn't happy with how the events turned out. Linda furiously taps the screen of the tablet before starting the interview.
"Ms. Chloe, do you have any previous experience in assistance job position like this one?" I shake my head but before I can continue with my reply, she continues. "Why do you think you're a good match to assist Mr. Stamford in his business endeavors even though you have zero experience in this department?"
If Linda was a cat, she would have raised her fur and would be getting ready to attack by now. Her claws, with that out-of-this-world manicure, are out and ready to shred me to pieces. And she would have done so if I didn't catch a glimpse of Deacon's eyes staring at me.
He's watching me.
"I have a college degree in marketing and administration. I speak two languages fluently and entered at my college of choice with an academic scholarship. I'm adaptive, communicative, and I think that I would be imperative to Mr. Stamford's company because of my extended skill set."
A confident reply coming from me is like a meteorite passing around the Earth every twenty years. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, it's beautiful. I can tell that Ms. Linda can’t find anything to smear my reply.
But she's more experienced than I, and way more fierce. "Interesting. So this means that with all your skills set, you couldn't find a job until now. Do you care to explain why is that, Ms. Chloe?"
"I'd guess it has to do with the global economic recession and the increased competition of the department, but--"
"There no buts, Ms. Chloe. Would you care to guess my age? Go on, I will even give some help. I landed this job on Deacon's company way after the recession had started. I climbed to the secretarial assistant's position after two years of hard work and determination. But I've said too much already. It's really easy now to tell my real age."
That skinny bitch. I don't understand what her fucking problem is. It's like I'm here interviewing to snatch her position from her claws. I just want one damned job to rise up away from this hellhole called life. Really, what's her problem?
I’m searching for something to counter her, but I can’t. I’m barely holding myself from bursting into tears. That’s when that bitch turns and looks at Deacon and smiles at him with that filthy smile of hers.
“In my opinion, Deacon, Ms. Chloe here is not suitable to undertake the job of a PA at this company. From her poor resume to the simple thing of her choice of clothes, this woman is vastly under-qualified. Maybe if she lost that hideous red shirt she would have a chance, but even then, I don’t know.”
That's it. I can't take this anymore. This has gotten too far. "What do my clothes have to do with my work performance? I'm not here to apply for a modeling job. And I don't understand what's wrong with you and your aggressive stance. I'm here because Mr. Deacon asked me to be, but I won't stay to be ridiculed even more. Mr. Deacon, thank you very much for the opportunity, but I think I'll pass. Good day."
And then I storm out of the office stomping all the way to the elevator. I push the button and wait for the elevator to arrive. I don't know why, but I look behind. Probably, I'm expecting Deacon to rush behind me and save me, a prince on his white horse.
But nothing happens.
I'm really cutting off on those romantic comedies. From now on, I'll only watch gory horror movies, especially the ones where the blond bitch dies first.
When I enter the elevator, I can’t hold back my tears anymore. I really hoped that I’d get this job. It was my fairytale turn, my hunk, fairy godfather granting me a wish and giving me a chance at this world. But it seems that like Cinderella, the magic lasted only until midnight.
I guess that fairytales don’t exist after all.
By the moment the elevator arrives at the ground floor, I have wiped my tears and decided to walk out of the building with those few shambles of dignity I have left intact. I walk to the reception desk to leave my guest card. There, the man manning the desk examines my face with a particular interest. Is my make-up a mess? God, I'm sure it's a mess. And he's trying to guess why I was crying.
I want to yell at him, but the man is just being considerate. At least, that's what I thought. But then, he stopped me.
“Are you Ms. Chloe?” he says.
"Yes. That's me. Is something wrong?" I can hear the distress in my voice. I don't know what's going to follow.
"Mr. Deacon called and said to inform you that you're expected to be here tomorrow morning at 9 am. And that he doesn't mind you wearing whatever you want." That last part comes off as strange to him as it does to me.
But, this doesn't matter. I feel confused, conflicted. "Excuse me, are you sure he's talking about me? And that he said those exact words?"
The man nods.
Honest to God, I would have cheered if I wasn't so tired after this roller coaster of shitty feelings. I give my information to the man on the reception desk and walk out of the building with a feeling of content inside me.
I know that I'm supposed to be glad that I got this job and that I should be happy that I'll be working for Deacon Stamford, but honestly, only one thing comes to my mind.
Get that, you skinny bitch!
Chapter 3
Working for Deacon would have been a lot more fun if Linda wasn't my superior. It seems that by somehow managing to change Deacon's opinion about my suitability for undertaking the work of his personal assistant I waged a war at Linda.
Only that I couldn't care less about what that skinny bitch does.
From
my first day at work and throughout my first month of trying to adjust to this new position, Linda was a relentless and vicious bitch that didn't know when to give up.
Everything started when she didn't give me a proper tour of the office that I was supposed to work in, making me spend most of my first week searching for everyone's desk. Then, during my second week at Deacon's company, she made sure I had double the workload of every other PA by neglecting her own deadlines and then assigning them to me to finish in half the time.
The same thing continued until the third week. When she realized that I could deal with everything she tossed at me, she changed her tactic altogether. She started finding ways to make me look bad in Deacon's eyes.
Big Bad Billionaires [Volume 2] Page 14