Page 2 of Christian Clause

And now, I’m a thirty-year-old woman with no job or love life. How am I going to pay my bills? Alice, my roommate, usually nagged if I was even a day late in paying my share of the rent.

She will blow her top and maybe even put me out if I can’t pay the rent when it’s due. My heart cringes at the thought of her barbed comments if I dare ask for a few days to complete my share of the rent which will be due at the end of the month.

Things haven’t been easy. A year ago, the corporation offered us the options of a pay cut or a sack. We all chose to slash our salaries by fifty percent, which made life even harder for me. I could barely keep up with paying my bills, and now this? I planned to complete the rent money with this month’s salary, but I don’t even think I am going to receive any as they have chosen the first day of October to fire me.

I place my box on the ground as despair overwhelms me. Depression reaches out, grabs my throat, and threatens to choke me. I’m in so much pain at the heavy hand that life has dealt me. It’s unfair. I try to think of what I might have done to bring this upon myself, but nothing comes to mind.

People brush past me as I stopped right in the middle of the sidewalk, but I don’t care.

Why is my life so full of difficulties? One minute I’m smiling, and the next, I’m lamenting over one tragedy or the other. It’s not fair.

I need someone to talk to, but I don’t really have anyone except Debra. Calling up my older sister just to lament how shitty my life has turned doesn’t seem like a good idea to me. I’m thirty years old for crying out loud, and I’ve been independent for a long while. And so, I’m going to have to wallow in self-pity all alone.

I look up at the darkened sky and let the raindrops mix with my salty tears.

Chapter One

Christian

Cursing under my breath at the nonsense I have just read, my eyes, filled with fury, lift to regard the sultry blonde-haired woman who is gawking at me like she wants to eat me.

“Get out. You’re fired!”

Her lips part with surprise as her blue eyes widen. “What?”

“You heard me,” I throw at her with a savage bite. “I don’t know how you got the job as my personal assistant, but you suck at it. I have tried to be patient with you for the past three days because I desperately need a personal assistant, but not at the detriment of my company.”

“But…” her lips wobble and her eyes become wet with tears.

A grimace crosses my face because I’m in no mood for theatrics.

“But nothing. Please leave before I call security,” I snap, getting to the end of my tether.

Why’s a good personal assistant so hard to find these days?

“Please tell me what I’ve done wrong,” the teary-eyed woman persists, placing her hand on her hip.

With irritation, my gray eyes roam her body, beginning with her blonde hair she left flowing at her shoulders, her round face, her tight pale yellow blouse with the buttons almost popping, to her black miniskirt and yellow heels.

I know she is trying to be seductive, but I find her cheap and annoying. Why anyone would wear such clothes to the office is beyond me.

Gritting my teeth, I tell her, “Next time, cover up when coming to work. And learn how to spell, too.”

Her face turns a rosy hue, but I don’t care. I’m sick and tired of employees who feel they can get me by dressing nearly unclad. To further annoy me, she raises her hand to twirl a strand of her hair in her finger while maintaining what she believes is a seductive pose.

Pouting her lush lips, she says, “Is that all?”

“If you’re not out of here in sixty seconds, I’ll have security throw you out.”

All form of sultriness leaves her face. She straightens and gives me a fulminating glare.

“The rumors are true. You’re a cold, hard man, Christian Clause,” she remarks before turning on her heels and swaying her hips out of the office.

If I wasn’t so angry, I’m sure I would laugh at her words. I’m only cold and hard to people like her. But I don’t care one way or another about what people like her think about me. Come to think of it, I don’t care about public opinion. As long as I’m happy, who cares? I didn’t come this far in life to pander to the dictates of the public.

Reclining back in my swivel chair, I let out a heavy sigh. I have a lot of work to do, but I’m encumbered by the lack of a personal assistant.

Leaning forward, I buzz my secretary. I have had enough of unreliable workers who are only here to get me into bed or a relationship.

---