My Tyrant CEO

It was a snowy January day in New York but that didn't stop Sara Atkins from going to her interview at Beaumont's.

The winter in America, especially New York, could be harsh, as Sara had quickly learned in the last two years she had lived here. The snow was thick, the temperature was freezing, the day dim and almost depressing it seemed. She couldn't let that get to her.

'Think positive, think positive', she chided herself.

Sara nuzzled more into her thick jacket, her breath visible in the air. With every step she walked towards the big company, the more nervous she grew. Was she dressed accordingly? Who would interview her? Who would be her boss? Would she get along with the people and her higher ranks?

Sara's nose and cheeks were red, almost giving her a blushing look. She sniffled, cursing herself how she could have forgotten her tissues at home.

The Austrian born girl with the Bosnian roots ran her hand over her hair. Sara had tied her thick brown hair, a typical Bosnian trait, into a low bun to keep it out of her face. Her makeup was kept minimalistic, even though she loved to do it heavy handed as she loved applying makeup, but it had to be appropriate for her interview. She had chosen a white shirt and a long black pencil skirt, along with heels.

Sara glanced at the end of the street and spotted a few taxis making its way slowly towards her. She took the chance and sprinted over the street, her heels clacking loudly in her ears, and with one last silent prayer swung open the doors to her new company; Beaumont's.

"Mrs Brown will be with you in a minute. Please sit down over there while you are waiting."

"Thank you very much", I nodded at the secretary, took off my jacket which was taken by another kind receptionist, and sat down. I folded my hands and looked around the golden lobby, taking deep, shaky breaths.

I went through everything in my head again.

Why I wanted to work here. How I had found the company. My experience. Why I was suited for this job. Why I was even in America in the first place.

Nonchalant I ran my hand over my hair to pat it down, checked my makeup quickly, then analysed the lobby intently. Would it give away anything from the company? It was organized and clean - the offices might be that way too.

I almost shook my head. Of course it would be.

I almost shook my head. Of course it would be.

Beaumont's was a multi-purpose company and quite known in America. In fact, it was on the list of the top 5 companies, standing at third place.

That thought made my stomach grow heavy with uneasiness.

Not only was Beaumont a money company, this company also gave advice to other establishments and checked their accounting situation. I had heard through them by my ex-husband, husband, cheating husband? ... well, it wasn't important. He wasn't important right now.

I had heard from them, had called and asked if they hired people. That's what mattered.

My eyes fluttered over to the receptionist who smiled warmly at me. I managed a smile and her face lit up a bit more.

To my surprise, the company had invited me to an interview a week after I had sent my application. Much faster than I had thought it would.

Before I could further digest the situation I had found myself in, a tall woman stood suddenly next to me. I almost jumped up, and barely managed to suppress it.

"Mrs Atkins?", a woman in her forty's approached me with a polite smile, her brown eyes shining as I stood up.

"That's me", I shakily answered and extended my hand. "You must be Mrs Brown."

"That I am."

We shook each other's hand. I was mindful of my handshake. Short but firm. Leaves a lasting impression. Hers was soft while her eyes laid on me.

"I imagined an older woman when we had received your application", she told me with an honest smile.

"Oh, really?", I quickly said, then instantly corrected myself. "May I inquire as to know why?"

"You are 25 years old?", she asked, pointing to the elevators.

I followed her, scanning her attire.

White shirt. Pencil skirt. Heels. Her greying hair in a low bun.

'Jackpot!', I yelled in my mind.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Please, no need for Ma'am."

"Sorry, Mrs Brown."

"Just call me Jessica", she smiled fondly at me.

Bewildered, I blinked, biting back a remark. Everybody had warned me of American interviews, especially my American friends, but this was much nicer than I had ever imagined it to be.

"Please call me by my first name too then."

"Very well, Sara."

The elevator announced its arrival with a soft 'ding' and the golden doors slid open. Jessica pressed the button to the twentieth floor. Now I was more nervous about the elevator getting stuck on its way there.

"I wanted to confirm your age because of your experience. You have accomplished quite a bit for your age."

"In Austria that's quite normal", I informed her.

"You did your bachelor's degree at what age?"

"I finished it with 21. My master's degree I got with 23."

"You did a semester abroad in the US?"

"At Iowa State University. Food technology and food science."

"Quite something different compared to this position."

"That it is", I honestly agreed.

Jessica looked at me. We were slowly reaching our destination, passing the fifth floor by now. "May I know why?"

"An incident happened in my other field and I decided to leave it behind."

Jessica silently gazed at me.

I sighed deeply. The truth would come out either way. "My husband cheated on me with my coworkers." Those words still stung.

"Oh", Jessica's cheeks reddened. "I-"

"I decided to return to my old path again. I went to the secondary college for occupations in the business sector in Austria. Accounting and economy had been my strengths, along with nutrition and languages."

"Your English is indeed very good. What level do you have?", I could hear the relief in her voice.

"C1."

Tenth floor. My heart was beating a bit slower now.

"Men are pig", Jessica suddenly said, gripping her folders tightly. She wrinkled my application in the process. This interview was more and more less interview-y than I thought it would ever be. "Have you been married for long dear?"

"No. Barely two years. But we've known each other since I started going to University."

"Ouch. My condolences."

"Thank you."

Fifteenth floor.

God, what was going on?

Why were we talking about Noah for god's sake?

"I'll be blunt with you. You have gathered many work experiences in your 25 years of age. We need somebody young for this position, somebody with high-endurance and the fitting education. You fit all our needed aspects. This job isn't easy, nor is the boss."

"Am I hired already?", I asked jokingly.

Brown eyes met mine. "After the formalities most likely. Now, let's go to my office."

♡

Astonished, I stepped out of Jessica's office and shook her hand.

"See you on Monday. 8 am sharp. The boss hates tardiness", she told me.

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Jessica."

She took my hands and squeezed them. "No, thank you. Please remember my words; the boss may get heated, but he's a good guy deep in his heart."

As I numbly walked to the elevator, only one single thought formed in my mind.

What had I gotten myself into?

This job must be something else if the interview was that easy.

She had been astonished that I had worked in three labs over summer, that I had done countless of internships for my college and that I had continued working throughout University. I didn't even need to say much when she had already given me the contract to sign.

The boss was a hazard. He was bluntly honest. He expected perfection. He only wanted perfection.

I could do that. I had to do that.

Or else I would be homeless.

I ran my hands over my hair and destroyed the bun the moment I stepped out of Beaumont's.

Good. Very good. Another problem solved: I didn't have to face my family. I had a job. I had money again. I could continue lying to them.

Now, that means no turning back now.

I gazed back to the skyscraper and swallowed heavily.

'This is better than nothing', I told myself. I didn't have to tell my parents about my broken marriage yet. About the divorce. About the dept that it plunged me into. About almost being broke and homeless in New York.

One day I would have to tell them, and I would have to do a hell of a lot explaining, and I would do that. I really would do that.

But not now. Not yet. The wounds were still to fresh and my heart was still bound to Noah, even though he had been unfaithful throughout the whole marriage ...

I shook my head.

No. No looking back anymore.

I didn't need him.

I had a job, a flat on my own and I would earn money again. We were in the midst of our divorce.

The future could only be bright from now on.

The first three weeks of my new job had been quite blissful - almost everybody was nice to me, I quickly made friends with my accounting team and my money worries were growing less prominent as the date of the pay check approached.

It was Monday the 23rd when I for the millionth time checked my phone to see if Noah had written me, but to no avail. He was active on his social media accounts, constantly online on Facebook too. I huffed loudly. So he could talk to others but with me only through his lawyer? That prick!

I angrily dug into my muesli and forced the hot coffee down my throat. I didn't want him back, not after how he had changed and how he had treated me. Noah had changed so suddenly once we had gotten married ... was I the reason? Did I do something wrong? Was it because I hadn't slept with him?

I played with my cup of coffee. It hadn't felt right. All those years we had been together it had never felt right, nor had a moment presented itself. Noah hadn't also taken the lead, as he never did. And I was too shy to ask him to have sex with me.

No, I wasn't to blame. Both of us were. If he had needed physical pleasure, he could have told me. He was my husband for fuck's sake, technically he still was; I would have had sex with him! I really would have! We had kissed, hugged, touched each other, so I wouldn't have minded to sleep with him! I was a grown woman and I had my needs too, dammit!

But he had grown distant for some reason. The day we had gotten married he had gradually changed from this quirky man to a serious, always tired guy and I couldn't do anything against it. Noah was no longer the man I had fallen in love with. No silly jokes, no kissing, no dancing, no harmony between us when we relaxed together, nothing.

I checked my watch and jolted up from my kitchen stool. I would be late! I threw the bowl into the sink, grabbed everything I needed blindly and ran to the tube as fast as I could.

--

Out of breath, I arrived at the door of the Beaumont. The security guard nodded at me and opened the door for me. "Mrs Atkins, you ain't red because of the cold, I take it?", Mr Morison asked with a deep laugh.

"No, but at least I'm warm", I joked back with a smile. He had quickly grown dear to me. Every day he asked me how I was and every day he insisted on opening the door to me. The other girls in my office always spoke fondly of him too.

"I have to hurry Ben, or else I'll be late."

"We wouldn't want that!", he shushed me inside and waved after me.

I greeted the receptionists, Anne, Raleigh and Dean, then hurried to the golden elevator. It took forever to reach me, and even longer to reach the twentieth floor.

To reach my office, I had to walk down a long glass corridor to our joined space, where I worked with three other women. Four tables had enough space in the broad room, and we worked together because we constantly needed something from each other. It wasn't only work related though and working with them was way more pleasant than I ever thought it would be.

I pressed my card against the scanner and the glass door was unlocked by the security system.

Jessica immediately lifted her head with a beaming smile. "Sara - come inside, quickly!"

I hurried to her desk, which was opposite of mine. She pointed at her screen. "I was checking the bills you had finished yesterday and found no mistake - you are improving already!"

"Thank you", I had to laugh. I had expected something else from her enthusiasm.

My eldest colleague scanned me and pointed at my skirt. I immediately pulled it down, so it reached my knees. "Janet is making her rounds again, just so you know."

"Oh, she's back already from her holiday?", I asked, rolling my eyes.

Janet White was the oldest employee of this level and the most annoying one. She took strictly to dress codes and constantly reported somebody to Jessica. I had once stretched to get a file from the file cabinet, which had caused my pencil skirt to ride up above my knees. Janet had seen that and had instantly reported me to Jessica.

Jessica sadly had to overgo every case Janet reported, as it was her duty, and had talked to every employee at least thrice by now.

I registered my presence at the monitor and held my card against the scanner until it let out a humming sound. 7:58:32. Just in time.

Hanging my coat on the coatrack, I greeted the others who came from the other rooms with the files that we had to work through. My other two colleagues were Nina Hathaway and Clarissa Smith, both around my age.

Nina was a beautiful blonde woman with a straight, slender build and beaming blue eyes. Her voice was always cheerful, as was she. Nina could twist anybody around her finger, even the most annoying customers.

Clarissa was the smallest one of us, bore an always well-kept brown lob-cut and had a beautiful face with green eyes. She had the best memory from us all, remembering even the most unnecessary things. She had saved us often in the past three weeks.

I was the chubbiest one of us, quite curvy with strong legs but a rather thin waist and big chest. I blamed my father's side of the family since they all bore strong legs, but thankfully I had inherited the upper body and somewhat tall height from my mother's side. I was 1,75 m tall, or as Americans would say 5'9".

"I like your hair", Clarissa joked with a warm smile and giggled as I looked at the mirror in our office. My hair was standing in all sorts of directions.

I quickly patted the mess down, took the extended hair tie from Clarissa with a thank you and tied it into a ponytail.

"Oh oh", Nina grumbled, looking down the glass door where I had come from. She rolled her eyes heavily. "Code J."

We all bolted to our desks. I made sure my skirt went over my knees, checked if my heels were clean and booted up the computer. Taking one pencil, I opened the first file on my growing pile and started highlighting and commenting the passages which I read.

It was a case of our own investments and I should check if we could afford to expand our company in the-

The glass door was forcefully opened, and Janet hurried inside with the intensity of an earthquake, huffing as she saw us all working and moved to the scanner. I forced myself to concentrate on the file.

We should check if we could afford expanding in the business sector of- "Mrs Atkins." Janet's dry voice cut off my thoughts.

Oh for god's sake.

"Yes, Mrs White?", I tried my hardest to sound polite.

"You clocked in at 7:58 am?"

I tried not to sigh. "Yes Ma'am."

Janet furrowed her brows and drew her thin lips into an angry smile. Her deep wrinkles got even deeper, if that was even possible. "That's too late and you know it."

How was that too late?

"Why did you arrive so late?"

"Look, my tube didn't come on time and I already ran to the office. I was here before 8 am and I was even working until you talked to me. I'm still good time-wise."

"Not in my eyes! If you come again this late I'll have to report you to Mrs Brown!", she nodded at Jessica.

'It's not that serious granny!', I would have loved to say, but I bit back that remark.

Jessica met her eyes squarely and crooked her head. "But she was still here before her working time, so it's alright."

"It can't be! Mr Beaumont wouldn't have approved of this!"

"Mr Beaumont himself comes sharply at 9 am, even though he should start working that time. It's fine, Janet." Jessica winked at me. "I'm sure Mrs Atkins won't repeat it, right?"

"Right!"

Janet twisted her lips at me. "You have too much makeup on too. Go take it off before I tell Mr. Beaumont himself." With those words, she left.

"How am I wearing too much makeup!?", I slammed my pencil onto the desk, standing up. "I'm wearing mascara, bronzer and blush!"

"Excuse me, you do look like a whore", Nina joked.

"Those eyes could distract the employees", Clarissa chirped in too, laughing.

"The employees? I'm more worried Mr. Beaumont will have her on his desk", Jessica added, shaking with laughter. We all joined in.

"Anyways, I'll take a bit off before this witch makes her rounds again."

"It's like she doesn't have any work at all!", Clarissa crossed her arms with a huff.

"She doesn't", Jessica told us, reading her file at the same time. "Janet does the shipping out of documents. She just has to press 'send' the whole day long."

"So, basically what we do by the side", Nina massaged her temples. "How much pay does she get?"

I didn't hear anything else as I went to the restroom and took a paper towel. I softly patted it against my face until I took a bit of my makeup off, shaking my head at myself. Why was I even listening to her?

Oh right, because she had threatened me with Mr. Beaumont.

I stared at myself in the mirror.

The others had told me so much about him the last few weeks. Besides talking about ourselves, eating lunch together and working together, they loved chatting about him.

Nina had described him as: confident with a forceful personality. He can be intimidating, and he dominates anything that he can dominate. His temper is nerve wrecking, and nobody dares to make him angry.

Clarissa had nodded heavily and added: He looks aggressive, tall and gloomy, but he's a stunner. He expects you to do his tasks thoroughly and perfectly, or else he will send it all back to you and you'll have to stay until you finished it. He hates doubt and tardiness.

Jessica shook her head: You are scaring her. He can be a bother to work with, but he's a nice guy. He cares for his employees, even though he doesn't seem like it. He has often made sure we felt alright and took matters into his hands when we didn't. Mr. Beaumont is really passionate about his work.

With that in mind, I went back to work to finish the file from Mr Edwards, one of the leading assistants in the PR-department.

----

"Do we have the file 28457 at hand?", I asked into the round, making all the present girls look up.

"I have 28300-28400", Clarissa said, shuffling around in her neatly organized drawers. She preferred to work with the material on hand rather than digitally.

"I sent them all off yesterday", Nina apologized.

Jessica wasn't here as she had to talk to the IT Manager to give him the green light on his purchase for his needed equipment.

"Well, I'm off to get them then", I smiled at them and got up. It would do me good to stretch my legs for a bit.

As I waited for the elevator to come up to my floor, I checked my watch. Only an hour had passed so far, even though I had worked through ten files already. I sighed softly and massaged my head. I should check the emails next, I had received over twenty in this hour alone.

When Jessica had hired me, she had told me we stood the closest to Mr. Beaumont and had to answer certain emails for him. Our work went straight to him, while the rest came to us and then to him. We were the last step before he signed bills, papers, agreements and expenditures and such, therefore, we were quite important.

The elevator doors opened, and I froze.

A tall man stepped out, causing me to step back.

This guy looked so aggressive.

He was so tall I had to put my head back. An imposing, gloomy, yet equally handsome man met my eyes. He was breath-taking.

This man bore dark blond wavy hair which was styled to the side perfectly, he bore a slightly tanned skin, piercing sky-blue eyes, a strong and attractive nose. His arched lips, which I could tell were full even though he had pressed them together, were perfect just like the rest of him. His bore also a trimmed beard, which was almost brown compared to his hair.

My eyes courtly looked at his body and then I looked at my feet in embarrassment. You could see hints of a strong trained body underneath his dark blue suit.

This must be Mr. Beaumont.

He instantly dominated the hallway the moment he stepped out the elevator fully. His eyes firmly held mine as I dared to glance at his face again, all while he bore this analytical expression. He radiated a power that just told you who the boss was.

Mr. Beaumont extended his strong, veiny hand. "You must be the new accounting assistant", his deep voice rumbled in my ears, making me jerk slightly. His tone showed he wouldn't take no as an answer.

"Uh, y-yes, Sir", I stuttered, then quickly took his hand.

Calm down, Sara. He's just your boss.

Your handsome boss.

A Greek god type of boss.

Enough.

This was the Mr. Beaumont - I had to leave a good and lasting impression!

"Sara Atkins. Pleased to meet you. It's an honour to work for your company, thank you for giving me this chance." He softly raised his brows, which made his analytical face go back to a brooding one. Was that his natural resting face?

He took my hand and shook it firmly. I had to suppress the urge to shake it. His confidence left me dizzy.

I had never been particularly good with men, always shying away from them, and he was destroying that border with just a simple glance. He was too much for me.

"Pleasure is mine, Mrs Atkins."

"Please", I start, before I can silence myself. I quickly shut my mouth.

"Please?", his blue eyes made me shiver as I looked into them..

"I ... I won't be called Atkins for long."

Mr. Beaumont didn't make this awkward at all. He understood, not pressing me further about it. "For as long as that is your legal name, I will address you as such. Once it changes, please tell us. We want to treat everybody rightly here."

"I-I will! Thank you very much!"

His eyes scanned me, a muscle in his jaw moving, as if he was suppressing a laugh. "Come to my office once you are done with your files."

"I will, Sir."

I slumped against the walls of the elevator, out of breath.

The elevator stopped at the 18th floor and Jessica entered with a surprised look. She laughed once she glanced at her watch. "You met Mister Powerhouse himself, didn't you?"

I could only nod.

Jessica nudged me. "Don't be afraid of him, he's a decent guy once you get to know him."

"Really?"

"He might seem tough, but he has a kind heart. You'll see."

----

I nervously put away the contact papers and cleaned my desk before I would finish with the last file. All I needed to do was press 'send' and I was done for the day. But I didn't want to.

Putting away the papers into the fitting folders, making sure the papers inside the folders weren't crooked, clearing off the table and trashing unnecessary post its took less time than I hoped it would.

Jessica chuckled, shutting down her computer. "Just go to him. The more you elongate it, the more likely he will come to you himself. And that's not funny at all."

"Will he be mad?"

"Not quite, but you'll get chided by him - and he chides quite strongly. It leaves everybody shaken in the end."

I got up.

"Come inside."

I froze for a second.

His voice was so loud, it rumbled in his entire office through the door.

I took a deep breath.

Jessica had sent me up to the 21st floor, his floor, with a "good luck!". Wanting to go home, I had gathered my entire courage to go and finally meet him.

Pressing the door open, I was welcomed by a dark office with tall windows behind Mr. Beaumont's broad chest. The view was breath-taking, just like him. New York opened behind him, almost the whole town visible to him.

"Sit down", he commanded, not looking up from the paper he was writing. My feet moved on their own to the leader chair in front of him.

Mr. Beaumont was in no hurry to talk to me, continuing to write the paper without any haste. He read over it, signed it and then sealed it, put it away into an envelope; finally he met my eyes.

I held my breath and pressed my legs together to stop them from shaking so much.

"Mrs Atkins."

"Mr. Beaumont", I nodded at him.

"There's a few things we have to talk about", he lifted a paper. "Let's start with the shortest one. 'Violation of Dress Code.'"

I sighed loudly, slapping my face. Mr. Beaumont raised a brow, and as he lowered the paper, a soft smile laid on his lips.

My breath hitched. The furrowed eyebrows were now resting above his blue eyes, his face softer and more relaxed. Small laughter lines formed around his impressive eyes.

"I know Mrs White can be ... a headache, but she only wants the best for this company. We represent an important image, and my employees have to mirror that."

His eyes scanned my face. "Even though I do not agree with her statement about your makeup. You can wear lipstick too, for all I care, as long as I don't see you walking around with colourful eyelids and lips."

"Eyeshadow", I corrected, clasping my hand over my mouth.

For god's sake Sara!

"Eyeshadow then", he corrected himself amused. "She pointed out your skirts are too short. Stand up."

I blinked. Did I hear right? He tapped the table with his right index finger. I spotted the brown Rolex on his wrist. "Excuse me?"

"Don't make me repeat myself."

I jolted up, my cheeks burning as his eyes slowly scanned my attire.

"Tear in stocking", he finally said, lowering his eyes onto the paper again. Janet scrawling handwriting made the corner of my lips tug downwards. "Skirt length is alright, it's just riding up from you sitting down. Blouse is a bit tricky. Consider wearing something that doesn't have buttons."

Huh? I looked down to my chest and saw the buttons were a bit stretched out. I pulled the white shirt forward and the material didn't stretch over my breasts anymore. He caught that silently.

"Heels are alright. And no, you can't wear flats. You can take them off while sitting down, but only in your cube."

"Understood, Sir."

"Good", he crumbled the paper and threw it towards the bin. It landed inside of it. I tried to hide my amazement. "When you get hundreds of these papers a day you can train that quite nicely", he dryly commented, then tapped his desk to get my attention.

I sat upright. He smiled honestly at me, revealing his teeth and laughter lines around his mouth. "Quick to correct herself and an ability to keep a cool head. Very impressive indeed, Mrs Atkins."

"Excuse me, but, cool head?"

"Not many can speak with me when they first meet me", he told me, leaning back. "And people who can't face me certainly can't face the work of my company. We need people to show backbone."

"Thank you, I guess?"

He lifted a brow. "Cut out the 'I guess'. Don't show your unsureness."

"Yes, Sir!", I tried to say with a firm voice.

"Good", he took another paper. "Now, to yourself. I like to know the people I hire. Especially when they work as my accounting assistants. You four are kind of my personal assistants in a way, so I like to know you the best I can." Blue eyes met my brown ones. They glistened. "Is that alright with you, Mrs Atkins?"

The way he said my name ...

I could only nod, feeling hot in my skin.

My finger fell to the wedding ring. Why was I still wearing it?

His eyes caught that, but he left it uncommented. I almost breathed out in relief.

"You are from Austria?", his voice was matter-of-fact. He didn't even look at my resume. Clarissa was right - he had a good memory.

"My parents are Bosnians, moved to Austria due to the war that broke out in their country. I was born and raised there."

"Any siblings?"

"A younger sister. Her name is Emma." I shifted in my seat. "My parents chose semi Austrian names which worked in my mother tongue too. It made living in Austria easier, if you ignore my Bosnian surname that is."

He nodded. "You went to grammar school, secondary college then to University. You completed your last year in America; why did you choose this country?"

"Because an aunt of my mother fled here after the war and she lives in Iowa. She offered me her flat for free while I completed my studies here."

"Very generous of her."

"Family is important in Bosnia", I told him, relaxing a bit.

"Should we address your marriage situation?"

"There's not much to say", I had to look away. "I'm getting divorced."

"I see", he leaned forward. "My condolences."

"Thank you, Sir."

"You have a lot of work experience", he continued with a tone that made me awe at how easily he controlled this situation.

"School required it, and I didn't want to be jobless during summer and University. I saved my money as best as I could." I had to laugh. "I didn't think I would move to America back in University."

"The most important change always happens unexpectedly", he agreed with a wise tone, nodding deeply.

"May I be blunt, Mrs Atkins?" I barely managed to nod when he continued talking. "Considering your religion, I hadn't thought you would choose this country."

Ah, there it was. "My parents were worried at first, rightfully so." I carefully continued talking. "Considering the current president."

"And considering the hatred against the Muslims", Mr. Beaumont bluntly said for me.

"I don't dress like one, so I guess that saves me kind of. Uh, I mean, I don't dress like one, so it hides my true identity."

Mr. Beaumont nodded approvingly. "Just so you know, we have nothing against your religion. If you want to wear a headscarf, you are free to do so."

"Thank you." I was surprised by his just nature.

It all left me wondering who he was.

"I'm asking about your religion because we have a deal in this company. Muslims work on catholic holidays, while Christians work on Muslim holidays."

"Don't you catholic people have more holidays than us?"

"We do - that's why you additionally get more vacation days."

My boss scanned me. "What do you think of your co-workers?"

"I love them all. They've grown on me."

"They are kind", Mr. Beaumont agreed with an unhidden smile. "Just you wait how they can be when the situation gets stressful. It's never a boring day with those three."

He spoke with admiration that made my curiosity about him only grow. 'He takes care of his employees', Jessica had reassured me.

"I look forward to working with you", Mr. Beaumont suddenly said, bringing this conversation to an end.

"Likewise, Sir."

"Do you have any questions, Mrs Atkins?"

I thought about it.

"Not really, Sir." It would feel wrong to ask him about his personal life.

"Very well then, you may go home. Naturally you'll be paid the extra hour you stayed."

Extra hour?!? It had felt only like a few minutes, that's how fast this question and answer round had felt to me.

"You are done for today."

"Thank you Sir. Have a nice day."

"You too, Mrs Atkins."

While I strode to the door, his strong voice boomed: "Mrs Atkins."

"Yes?", I stopped at the door and turned around to him, the handle meeting my palm. Mr. Beaumont rested his hands on his table, crossing them in front of him. His blue eyes peered over his hands, glistening as he met mine.

"Your skirt might be too short."

It had gone up my knee good three inches. His eyes were scanning my legs as I looked up again. I reddened.

"I'll keep it in mind, Sir."