Page 8 of One Rule

Taking in a deep breath, I let it out slowly while pushing away a memory that torments my every nerve ending. A teasing shackle that brings goosebumps to my skin while the woman in front of me remains oblivious to my torture.

Micah kissed me once. On my eighteenth birthday while—

“Really, Liliana? Where is your head today!” Beverly hisses, her hand waving in front of my face while I simply blink twice from behind my desk. Once again, I don’t answer her, but I do raise a brow at the sharp tone. We’re not friends, much less have anything to do with each other, yet she’s here ruining my morning routine.

Since the day I began at his company, under the guise of garnering work experience as part of my final grade last semester, I’ve come in and brewed our coffee before setting up his day. For months now, his daily meetings and calls with every cruise director setting sail—going over last-minute changes and finalizing approvals—are all coordinated by me, unbeknownst to him.

I choose the day each department hands over its weekly reports.

I make the necessary arrangements for food deliveries that are delayed or sent back due to not meeting quality standards.

I make sure nothing with peanuts or a derivative comes within a hundred feet of him.

Not this secretary who’s been here slightly longer than me, yet doesn’t have a clue about his needs. Beverly’s good at taking all the credit, and for the most part, I’m okay with that, yet today she’s trying to harass me out of panic.

However, she’s meeting a defiant wall while trying to shift the blame for a file that up until last night was still on her desk. I’m not a pushover—I do what I do for him—and don’t take kindly to her attitude. This is my downtime she’s encroaching on. My daily allotted reprieve where I catch my breath and then recite a set of vows that carry no real weight to them.

Because moving on from this unrequited obsession is impossible when he destroys my paper-thin walls each morning at eight a.m. sharp with nothing more than a simple:Buenos Dias.

I’m that easy. A slave to my un-satiated needs.

Two mere words spoken in my family’s native tongue, and I crumble like my favorite cookie.

Maybe I should give online dating an honest try.

The blasphemous thought immediately leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. It’s an impossibility, and for reasons beyond my comprehension, Micah’s all I’ve ever been able to see.

No man calls my attention. No one sets my blood on fire with a simple smile.

“Why are you here, Beverly?” My tone is curt, yet polite enough that she doesn’t pick up on my annoyance. How distracted I am because he’s closer now, having bypassed his private waiting area and now walking toward my office—one of the two on this floor. “That isn’t my department and you know it. I’m not the head of marketing.”

“No. Just…cyber analysis, was it?”

“Cyber security. What’s your point?”

“You don’t belong up here.”

“And you do?” I ask while reaching for my cup of coffee. The mug is still warm and feels good against my always-cold fingers. And while Beverly becomes red in the face and her expression shows her true bitterness, I take a generous sip of my hazelnutnectar of the godsbeverage with a smile.

For a few seconds after, I take her in while letting the caffeine perk me up.

She’s a beautiful woman; I can admit that. With straight copper hair, stark green eyes, and full lips, her face draws attention, but the moment she opens her mouth, the allure vanishes. Sure, there’s a great body attached, but vanity can only get you but so far when there’s no real substance.

There’s also one thing I have that she doesn’t, and I know it infuriates her.

I have a desk. An entire office on this floor.

Beverly, and the ones before her, have all been relegated to the two levels directly below where I sit. That’s the assistant's domain—the CEO’s and the head of every department’s for that matter—something she hates. In this company, every superior held an office outside of their designated unit, which made it a much more enjoyable atmosphere for their team to flourish.

It was one of Micah’s first changes after taking over as CEO after his father stepped down.

Helps with productivity—works for everyonebuthis personal assistant. I’ve heard Beverly’s complaints. Took the snide remarks with a grain of salt in the past, but today’s just not the day to test my patience.

The insulting retort sits on my tongue, but then I stop. This is what she wants.

Is she hoping Micah catches me going off on her? To embarrass me?

“What is it that you actually do here, Lola?” Condescension drips from her every word while she gets my name wrong on purpose, but I don’t take the bait. Instead, I shift my attention to his heavier footfalls, something she’s oblivious to for someone so set on creating a scene.Or maybe she is aware?Maybe she’ll cry on cue and accuse me of stealing the report?“You’re a part of this company, and yet, I never see you do more than type away at your screen or make his coffee. Everyone else busts their asses—”

---