Chapter 4 DOMINEERING

My previous bar attendant of three years had left a week ago in migration to London. So this dark-haired , lip-pierced , tattoo-marked , Gothic-looking attendant was an emergency hire. Still oblivious to my presence , she sucked on a straw from a large cup of smoothie until the cup made a gurgling sound , moaning that all its contents were consumed.

With my eyes unmoving from this impossible girl , I pulled a bar stool beneath my rump and rested my elbows on the counter with my fingers steepled under my chin.

Curious as to how long it would be before Gothic Girl realized that a possible customer was at the bar , I remained quiet. Surely she would have to look up some time within the hour. Seven minutes ticked by before Gothic Girl finally stood up , but only to dance her way over to the ice machine and blend herself another smoothie , her head still bobbing to music that only she heard.

When she was finished , she turned , saw me, and froze with her mouth on the straw. So it took her all of twelve minutes to notice I was there. Unblinking , hands steepled, intimidation in effect, I glared.

Nervous-which was the usual effect I had on people-she hastily set her cup down on the counter and yanked the earplugs from her ears as her face flushed a deep shade of crimson.

"Miss Stewart, I'm so sorry, I-"

"Four days, six complaints," I cut in a chilled tone. "Will I receive another , Susie?"

"No. No , Miss Stewart , I promise. I never-"

"Good."

Cool, self-possessed and oozing intimidation, I stood up and held my hand out to her. Understanding, she wrapped her earplugs around her iPod and placed it in my hand. With one last pointed glare, I turned and left.

Unlike the average person, it took little to no effort for me to get people in line. To employee or non-employee, I tended to be quite intimidating. It was not something I tried, nor have I practiced to be this way. It was intrinsic; it was in my blood, my veins.

My mother and father both carried the domineering gene, and through birth, I have been execrated with a double dose. Only a few were able to elicit a laugh or a smile from me, and Ellen has recently become one of those persons. But most of the time I was serious and commanding, which is something I've been fighting to vanquish , but to very little avail.

No less than a minute after I re-entered my office and threw the confiscated iPod in my desk drawer, a knock sounded on the door and Ellen entered with a huge Victoria Secret goody basket.

"What's this?" I asked.

"It was just delivered for you," Ellen answered with a disapproving frown.

She added, "The sender is unknown," when she deduced what my next question would be.

Obviously peeved by the gift, Ellen set the basket down on my desk with unnecessary attitude and left. I stared in amusement at the door long after she'd vanished through it.

Ellen was the perfect assistant, but her ridiculous expectations and hopes of me suddenly becoming a dike one day were what I believed would ruin the good work relationship that we had. It was all I could give and no more, and trying to get her to understand that was a task. Had she not been so efficient at her job , she would've gotten the sack ages ago.

Turning my attention to the goody basket , I opened the small card that hung from a twirl of purple strings.

'Sweet rack. Amazing ass-um, back. Pretty Positive that I guessed your correct cup size,' Cause I excel at that.

P.S. Your command was heeded. There better be a reward.'

An eyebrow arched as I read the absurd words on the card. What the hell did this even mean and who the hell sent it?

A combination of lacy lingerie , bras , frilly boy-shorts , moisturizers , body wash , body splash and colognes overflowed from the basket when I opened it.

A sigh flowed through my nostrils as I sat back in my chair and stared at the commotion on my desk. It's been over a year since I've dated anyone , and I sure as hell haven't given anyone the impression that I was searching.

The sender-whoever the loser was-seemed to have gotten inside info that I was a sucker for Victoria Secret. The words on the card made no sense , and I was far from impressed.

So I stood from my chair , grabbed my water bottle from the fridge , a towel from the cabinet and headed off to instruct my spinning class.