by Helena Vera
He remains silent as he stares into my face. I almost swoon again when he looks deep into my eyes as though seeking answers. His eyes held mysteries and- and other things I couldn’t identify. His nostril flare as though he is angry at me. Why would he be angry at me? It is his fault. Why is he at work shaving anyway? His aftershave was too strong. He must have just finished shaving.
I’ve never been in Mr. Cavil’s bathroom before but imagine there must be a shower inside.
“Okay,” he concedes and I breathe a sigh of relief. “Say I believe you and that’s the reason you’re here early. Now what’s your reason for being in my office? Are you looking for something to steal?”
My face is no longer pale with this remark. I become heated at the accusation. Who does he think he is to go about making these random accusations about people he doesn’t know.
“I would never do such a thing,” I protest, trying to wrench myself out of his arms but he is holding onto me too tightly. I cannot budge. “Will you let me go?”
“Not until you tell me what you’re doing in my office.”
I decide to go with a version of the truth. “I- I picked up a letter at the front desk that arrived for you. I was simply dropping it off.”
He glances up and down my person. “I don’t see a dress unless you’re telling me it’s hidden in that dress you’re wearing in which event I’ll oblige you to retrieve it.”
“You-why you,” I stammer out.
“The letter Miss Brown or will I have to search you for it?”
“You- you wouldn’t dare!” I exclaim in astonishment.
“Watch me.”
His hands went to the top button of my dress and I wench myself away from him with such force the top button flew off. I clench the two flaps close. The V of the dress hadn’t showed any cleavage given my breasts were small but now with the button gone, the lace black bra I have on underneath is visible.
“This is sexual harassment!” I declare in outrage.
“No Joyce. You end up in my office at an ungodly hour claiming to have a letter for me which I see no evidence of.”
“Because it’s on your bloody desk,” I respond, very annoyed at the way he is treating me when he knows nothing about me.
He turns slightly and looks on the desk where the letter is lying. He looks back at me with a scowl. “Why the hell didn’t you just say so?”
“How could I get in a word when you were so busy accusing me of being a thief.”
“Well, you have yourself to blame. Now, excuse yourself while I get dressed. You’ve wasted enough of my time.”
4
CHAPTER
“I’ve wasted…” I trail off, regarding the man as though he is mad. Did I hear correctly that he thinks I wasted his time? The insufferable jerk. Of all the rude, obnoxious men I’ve ever met in all my life, he has got to be the worst.
I don’t bother to grace him with a response, knowing I will have the last laugh anyway when he reads the letter on his desk and realize it is my resignation letter. Now I am grateful I came in early this morning. If I had harbored any doubt I was doing the right thing earlier, it is all gone now.
No way I am going to continue working with this new psychotic boss. Who cares that he has the body of a Greek god? He had the mannerism of a pig. No, that is an insult to pigs everywhere! He is worst.
Without a word, I walk out of the office, barely able to prevent myself from slamming the door shut behind me. I get to my desk and opened the drawers, checking one final time if I am leaving anything behind. Ah my coffee mug that I use to get coffee from the break room instead of using the Styrofoam cups they keep for staff. Much healthier for the environment than using a Styrofoam cup once every day. Even I who am not a big environmentalist know that is just too much.
Yuck! I’d been so upset yesterday, I forgot to wash my cup out. I grab the box with my stuff and take the elevator to the second floor where the lunch break is. I wash out my cup and dries it before placing it inside the box and resume my trek in the elevator to the first floor.
The security guard is on the phone talking when I step out the elevator. Before I could leave the building, he hangs up the phone and comes to stand in front of me, blocking my way. I frown at him, wondering why he is trying to prevent me from leaving.
“Is something wrong?” I ask him.
“Actually there is,” he answers, gesturing to the box in my hands. “I’m afraid I’ll have to check the items in that box.”
“These are my personal items,” I reply. “Why do you need to check them?”
“Security reasons ma’am. You entered the building with a letter and you’re walking out with a box. I’ve to ensure nothing of value to the company is leaving with you.”
By this, I am very upset. This is the second person in a matter of minutes who is trying to make me feel like I’m a thief. I plunk the box down at his desk.
“Be my guest. As I said before, these are just my personal effects.”
I watch him go through my box, thinking he would shuffle the things around and confirm that indeed the items are not so much valuable as they are sentimental. Instead, I stare in disbelief as he slowly goes through the items one by one, inspecting it as though he believes I’ve hidden drugs somewhere in the bottom of a pen.
“This is ridiculous,” I explode, reaching for each item and dumping them back into the box. “You can see nothing in here belongs to Ash Publishing. Now sir, have a good day!”
I wrench the box out of his hands and made for the door again. He hurries by me to block the interest. This is not right. What the heck is this man doing? Is he trying to deliberately keep me in his office.
“Why are you trying to keep me here?” I snap at him and he flushes.
“I-umm,” he couldn’t form an articulate response.
He tugs on his ear. Definitely a tell. I remember the phone call then and instantly figure out what was going on. That was him on the phone trying to get the security guard to keep me in the building.
Without thinking, I jam the box in the security guard’s stomach, to get him out my way. I did it out of panic because I know if he should catch me down here, he will make it more difficult than it already is for me to leave.
“Joyce. My office. Now.”
I groan at the voice behind me. I glare at the security guard who has a chagrined, apologetic look on his face. As if that is going to help my situation now.
“The letter will explain everything,” I respond, squaring my shoulders for courage before I turn to face Mr. Ash.
He is furious, the muscles in his jaw ticking. He waves the letter before my face. “This explains nothing.”
“It’s my resignation letter,” I explain though if he had read it which I am sure he had, then he would already know this. “Effective immediately. Now goodbye Mr. Ash. I wish you all the best in your venture.”
The security guard is no longer blocking my way and I push against the door, glimpsing my freedom.
“Joyce, aren’t you forgetting something.”
To the best of my knowledge, no but the mocking tone of his voice makes my skin crawl. I am forgetting something. What is it and why does he know of it when I can’t remember what it is?”
“Your contract.”
My contract?
“You still work for me and you cannot be released from your contract without my approval,” he adds. “You might want to step into my office and beg for my approval.”
Beg? Over my dead body. But he is right. I am so stupid. How could I have forgotten about that contract? I have ten months left in my current contract, having signed a new one this January. Sweet Mother of Jesus, there’s no way I could last ten months with this man.
When I turn to face him once more, he is already at the elevator, holding the doors open. “Coming?”
Like I have a choice. I walk towards him but not before casting a longing look at the door which holds my freedom. We ride the elevator in silence, me huddl
ed back in the corner, remembering the last time we took the lift together. On the third floor, he walks out taking it for granted I’ll follow him but then he knows he has me cornered.
Somehow I have to let him see we are not a good fit as employer and employee, worse when I would have to work so closely with him as his Personal Assistant. That position requires having a certain rhythm and good working chemistry. All this tension between us would never make for a good working relationship.
Taking the box from my hands, he dropped it heavily on my desk.
“You can unpack after our little talk.”
When I stall, his hand came down onto the small of my back, shooting disturbing electricity through my body. Traitor! I confront my body. How can you be attracted to this beast? I don’t even like him. But my body and my brain are determined to be at war. I didn’t like it one bit.
I can’t help jumping when he slams the door shut behind us. I turn to face him. He is not the sort of man I would feel comfortable trusting my back to.
“Your contract states if for any reason you want to resign,” he starts, perching one butt cheek on the edge of his desk. “Then you can do so with the expressed approval of your boss.”
“That- that contract applied to Mr. Cavil,” I point out. “Not to you. This is no longer Cavil Publishing.”
“The name may have changed but I inherited all the employees by nature of my contract with Cavil,” he states. “Or do you want to get our lawyers involved in this case? Because if you walk out that door Miss. Brown, you owe me ten month’s salary.”
“That’s preposterous,” I announce. “It’s not as if I’m taking any payment with me. Whatever I am to be paid can easily be paid to your new PA. You’re not losing anything by me leaving.”
“Let me make this clear to you, Joyce. I was promised a PA who already knows the ins and outs of this company and that’s exactly what I will have.”
“I can recommend someone else,” I insist. “There’s the—”
“Enough!”
I really need to stop jumping at the sound of this man’s voice and giving him physical evidence of how intimidated by him I am.
“Mr. Ash.”
“Axel.”
“Mr. Ash,” I repeated. “This is not going to be a good working relationship. I’m afraid I don’t think I will suit as your PA. We- we are too different in personality. Frankly, I don’t think I can like you.”
His booming laugh is a surprise. He throws his head back, his face awash with amusement at whatever it is I said which he found funny. The sound resonates within me as I watch the transformation in his face from that laugh. His features soften, his blue eyes twinkled with warmth instead of coldness and his lips soften instead of flattening in a disapproving line.
He is even more gorgeous when relaxed. Too bad it’s at my expense.
“What does, you liking me, have to do with you doing your job?” he enquires, his eyes still crinkling from mirth. “Once you do your job the way you’re supposed to, liking me is of very little consequence. I’ve enough liking in my personal life without adding that to my professional life. I’m not here to be your friend. Just your boss.”
“Mr. Ash, I feel you are not understanding me,” I try again. “I’m sure you understand the nature of a PA’s job. It means working closely with each other and I’m not comfortable around you. You don’t know how to respect a personal space.”
“Whatever do you mean my dear Miss Brown?’ He mocks me and deliberately moves away from the desk to walk up to me, crowding me, stealing my breath. “Is this invading your personal space?”
“You-you know it is.”
“My question though to you is, why does my presence bother you so much?”
“it’s not your presence but you who bother me, Mr. Ash. You’re trying to intimidate me.”
“And is it working?”
“No, it is not!” I deny but take a couple steps away from him to restore my breathing properly to my aching lungs. “Because I am leaving. You’re being unreasonable with the request for ten months’ salary.”
“I am?” he continues in his mocking tone. “Then what would you say when the assault charge is added to it?”
My eyes widen in shock. “Assault charge? I never assaulted anyone.”
“No, you didn’t? Did I see you hit the security guard with a weapon?”
“Will you stop making stuff up!”
“I’m a witness. I’m sure you deliberately pushed that box at him.”
“That’s no weapon and he was standing in my way! I did tell him to move!”
“Tell that to his judge.”
My mouth bob open like a fish as I struggle to find a response. What an odious man! I am disliking him more and more by the minute. And what a pity too. A line from GRL’s song Ugly Heart comes to my mind “It’s such a pity a boy so pretty with an ugly heart.” They must have written that song with this man in mind.
“What you’re doing is not right,” I told him in one last attempt to appeal to his kinder side. A side I still have yet to see. “You know I’m replaceable. I have no idea why you won’t let me out of that contract.”
“Let’s just say I have my inner motives,” he replies and walks behind his desk. “You’re dismissed Joyce. You may go and unpack your box. I will need you to help me tackle a few projects today. Close the door behind you, will you? And don’t make any attempt to leave Joyce. I think you know enough about me to understand everything I say, I mean it.”
“I understand,” I say stiffly and walk towards the door, my back erect from the anger I am holding in.
“And Joyce,” he adds, stopping me when I am about to close the door. “You’ll thank me someday.”
I give him my frostiest look. “With all due respect, Sir. I highly doubt it.”
I close the door quietly behind me but mentally I had slammed it into his cocky face.
I wish.
5
CHAPTER
“Joyce, I need you.”
I grit my teeth in anger, wishing I could tell him whatever he needs to go fetch it himself. All morning I’ve been playing fetch like his puppy and he my master. It’s like the man doesn’t know how to do anything himself or he lives to torment me. Personally I think it’s the latter. I’ve never worked so much in my entire life and my job description seems to have added fetching him breakfast.
This morning when he asked me to drive the fifteen minutes Downtown to Hudson Café and get him breakfast, I hadn’t believed he was serious. Only he was. And had threatened to send me back too when I’d messed up his order and brought him back the wrong type of eggs. He’d accused me of deliberately messing his order up and I wish I had been smart enough to think of that.
Sending me back out to get him breakfast would be better than this. My stomach was growling, reminding me the only thing I’ve munched on all day was an apple. That had been so long ago, I don’t remember what it tasted like. My lunch hour had passed half an hour ago and I still have yet to go for lunch because I’ve been making calls for him since I refilled his cup of coffee.
“Joyce!”
This time he is standing at the door of his office. “Didn’t you hear me call you?”
“I’m coming,” I answer. Then under my breath I add, “your majesty.”
“What did you say?” he asks.
“I said I’m coming.”
I am hungry and getting pissed with every minute that ticks by and I don’t get to go for lunch. I walk into his office, following him inside and leaving the door open.
“Close the door.”
I don’t bother to argue but do as he says. I discover it’s less headache if I don’t argue with him. Besides, I can get through this one day because regardless of his threats I am not returning here tomorrow. I’ve been waiting for lunch to ask my grandmother if I could stay with her for a couple of weeks. She lives in Alabama where I am orginially from although I’ve worked so hard at my accent reduction, hardly any
one can tell.
It takes a while for me to register his office is all torn up. The chairs and other seats were pushed one side and the carpet rolled up. The walls bear patches where he had removed the paintings that had hung there since the day I first walked through the doors of Cavil’s.
“I’m redecorating the office,” he states as if it isn’t obvious. “I need you to help me to pick out samples for repainting the wall as well as different chairs. This all looks too stuffy. I want a modern office.” When I don’t respond, he glances over his shoulder at me. “Well, don’t just stand there. Get over here and help me go through these catalogues.”
“Umm shouldn’t you wait to order what you want before tearing up the office?” I ask, tentatively moving over to his desk where he has an various catalogues strewn.
“It doesn’t matter. The furniture will be here tomorrow anyway.”
“And you haven’t ordered them yet?” I asked dubiously.
He flashes me his devastating grin. “You’re forgetting one thing, Joyce. I’m Axel Ash.”
“Trust me, I’ve not forgotten,” I mumble but he ignores my comment.
The minute I start looking through the catalogues I become absorbed. My eye for color, details, management of space and linking pieces with its owner, grab hold of my attention. I don’t only help him to pick out pieces but also show him how I envision everything. I become so animated speaking about designing his office the way he wants it, modern and chic but with a bit of old school feel to it, that I don’t realize he’s just sitting there staring at me until I ask him what he thinks.
At his lack of response, I turn from the window where I had indicated how he could make an arrangement of potted plants. My heart lurches with my chest to find him staring at me.
“You’re a natural at this,” he says almost in awe. “How do you know so much about this?”
Before I could respond about my Art degree, my tummy growls. Not silently but loud enough to be heard by Axel. My cheeks color in embarrassment.