Chapter 5 The hot coffee bastard

Remind me to curse Sloane's fortuneteller because that woman probably cursed me when she said the rubbish she said!

Because! If not for her, would I be standing in front of these large oak double doors contemplating if I should kneel and beg Xavier Steele or threaten with suicide?

Of course, it has nothing to do with that I insulted my billionaire boss and called him crazy to his face in the presence of an audience.

Aaaargghhh!

I straighten the non-existent creases on my grey- colored sleeveless dress, and knock.

"Good morning sir. Hazel Dawson at your service." I say cringing at how my voice sounds.

"Is the colour of your dress a depiction of your mood when working Miss Dawson?"

Goodness! That rich velvety but cold voice. You'll agree with me if you hear it as well.

"Not at all sir." I reply staring at his tousled hair.

Who has a tousled hair early in the morning? My billionaire boss, that's who.

"Your desk is the empty one outside. I'll call you through the intercom if I need you."

"Is that all sir?" I ask bewildered.

"Were you expecting something else?"

"Not at all sir."

'Except maybe that you lift up your head if you want to address me?' I add inwardly.

************

I think Xavier Steele is a ticking bomb.

I've been coming to the office as his new secretary since Tuesday and he hasn't given me any bit of work. His emails, appointments, dislikes or likes, I have no idea about.

I have asked, trust me, I'm not a lazy ass.

Since he's seen my face, I'm sitting on edge waiting for him to talk about it.

The elephant in the room.

It's terrible trust me. I'm walking around with fear covering my tippy toes if he recognizes me and when he does, if he'll fire me.

I'm supposed to be happy right? A pay bump from 50,000$ to 108,000$ base salary is nice right?.

I don't even have any work to do that might waste the day away, so I'm here playing Call of Duty (COD), my back slouched against this beautiful ergonomic chair.

My thumbs fly across the screen, my eyes dutifully locked on the last enemy soldier in the match .... just a little bit of stealth with the right positioned headshot ---

Bang!

A stack of papers lands on my desk like a brick hitting concrete. My hands flop causing my phone to fall to the floor.

Shit.

"Digitize this." Mr. Coffee bastard barks at me.

"By this afternoon, I want you to memorize the faces of everyone here. They have appointments this afternoon." he tosses a fairly light bunch of papers onto the table.

My gaze flickers to him, "I could have memorized it if I was the one who set the appointments, you know? Like doing my job properly."

"Here I was thinking giving you time to familiarize yourself with the job will make me seem like someone with common sense." he shrugs at me dismissively.

"What I mean to say is that having to learn all these faces by noon is a tough feat." I press my lips into a thin line.

"Seems to me that it's easier than having your precious coffee spilt, lady."

I stare at his retreating back for a moment bothered that ---

Wait ---

He remembered?

Fuck!

But he's been acting like he doesn't!

Shit!

I grab my phone off the floor inspecting it for cracks first - don't ask me why, priorities or maybe I was trying to build my courage to destroy my remaining life in corporate America - and hurry after him.

I'll burst into his office and tell him why he shouldn't fire someone like me, or even worse, make my life miserable and hope he doesn't.

I push the door open with the flourish of a movie lawyer defending an innocent client with several charges racked up against him.

And like several times before, hope decides to fail me again.

The tip of my shoe snags on the edge of the corner rug, pushing my body forward.

Next thing I know, I'm sprawled out on the cold floor, my mouth kissing the floor cleaner.

What just happened?!

I lay there for a second considering whether to fake death or if terrible work conditions would work if I decide to sue Xavier Steele aka. Mr. Coffee bastard.

"So the coffee stain was too lonely? You had to throw yourself on the floor to get a matching marble pattern on your dress?"