Page 9 of The Boss and the Wedding Mess
Upstairs, I head straight for the small kitchen. A few employees scatter. Some employees quickly scatter as they probably don't want to be caught slacking off. I've never had friends here, just suck-ups and brown-nosers, which I hated from the start.
This is the top floor, where all the important men work. Each has multiple secretaries. Only my boss has just one: me. I’ve never taken a sick day. I simply couldn't afford to be. Even with a fever and chills, I showed up and served him his coffee. You just pull yourself together, grin and bear it. I couldn't have worked my way up to this high position any other way. After all, I earn incredibly good money and made myself indispensable. I could never have achieved this otherwise.
My hands shake as I arrange the sandwiches and canapés on a tray, thankful that the lettuce and veggie garnishes that came with them make them look presentable. I carry the delicious-looking snacks to the big conference room, setting everything neatly on the side table. Then I make sure the room is properly prepared. Is the trash can empty? You can't always rely on the cleaning staff. The curtains need to be tied back, and the armchairs should be positioned neither too close nor too far from the table. This room is only for Mr. Blackthorns most distinguished guests. It looks more like a luxurious gentlemen’s lounge: black furniture, dark walls, gold emblems. Even the small side table probably costs more than all my furniture combined.
I smooth my hand over the backs of the armchairs, double-check the table doesn’t wobble, then make a round to ensure the first impression is right: because it has to be perfect. Absolutely perfect.
But as I turn toward the door, there he is.
No, not my boss, Mr. Arthur Blackthorn, but that crazy stalker!
I gasp in panic and freeze, folding my hands together.
I immediately send a prayer heavenward while wondering how he managed to get past Raul and the rest of the security staff.
Such a damn mess. I'm done for. That's it.
His dark glare doesn’t waver as he steps inside and closes the door behind him without breaking eye contact with me. I have time to study him while mentally drafting my will.
Dark brown suit with a luxurious gold watch flashing from beneath his cuff, matching his gold cufflinks. A silk handkerchief is tucked into his breast pocket.
He seems flawless. Strict. Perfect. Posture upright. Unwavering gaze.
No, this is not a stalker. This is a man you shouldn't contradict. I swallow nervously.
"How did you get in here?" I demand, trying to appear ready for a fight. I can't show any weakness!
"So you work here?" He evades my question.
"Yes. Unlike you."
He prowls the room like a predator. As if he's hunting and I'm easy prey, cutting off my only escape route.
“Then I’ll fire you,” he says coolly, sending chills down my spine.
“You clearly don’t know who you’re dealing with,” I tell him sternly.
“I could say the same to you,” he replies.
I narrow my eyes and study him again. Could he be a client? An important business partner I don't know about? I'm always one hundred% prepared for all guests. I know their backgrounds, their spouses’ and children's names, allergies, and important phrases in their languages, customs, or little quirks.
I've never seen him before.
I would have noticed him. Definitely.
"My boss would have told me about you," I counter then and take a few steps. I notice the small delicacies on the table and remember that the order was rather spontaneous. It would bethe first time in the last three years that my boss hasn't warned me about a meeting with an important client. So he must be his guest.
Damn it.
If they get along well and he's important to my boss, I could actually lose my job.
"So, you have absolutely no idea who I am? Figures. Fits the pattern that you're clueless."
He continues to stare at me sternly as he approaches me. I don't back away but keep walking across the dark wooden floor. He reaches for a canapé. Naturally, I don't stop him. He, on the other hand, hesitates and looks back at me. "Where's the coffee?"
"I was just about to get it. Milk? Sugar?"
He gives a curt nod and strolls to the panoramic windows. I slip out quietly and quicken my steps once I'm in the hallway. How unlucky can I possibly be? Today is definitely not going to be a good day.
