CHAPTER SIX
Rule No. 6: Mental, emotional, or physical distress are not adequate cause to forfeit the agreement. The game will go on until its natural conclusion.
Saturday and Sunday were a wash of days that found me floundering on my couch, intermittently crying or laughing at the insanity of what my life had become. I spent those days lost in indecision, stuck between a rock and a hard place - or I guess I should say between a Stone and a terrifying game. One option paid my bills while locking me into two months of a fantasy that wasn't actually a fantasy, while the other locked me into an emotionally exhaustive relationship with a disgruntled boss. Unsure which would seal my fate first, I'd come to terms with my decisions and had crawled out from beneath the heavy blanket of misery by Monday morning.
The three story office building loomed in front of me, the width of the stained cement sidewalk, the only barrier between the streaked glass of its front door and me. Checking my watch, I discovered I had five minutes to cross the sidewalk, open the door and ascend three flights of stairs. It was plenty of time, if only I could manage to take the first step.
Dressed in another outfit I'd purchased following my transition from college student to working girl, I smoothed down the black skirt and straightened the cuffs of my emerald green top. Three buttons were open at the neckline, just the tiniest bit of cleavage visible to the eye.
I forced the first step and found myself in the lobby of Stone Industries at eight sharp. The reception area was basked in dim lighting, and behind the reception desk, it was pitch black. Unsure what to do, I walked to the door Donovan had led me through for my interview to find it locked.
The least Donovan could have done was arrive on time, but even that appeared to be beneath him. Taking a seat on one of the small plastic chairs, I decided to wait. It irritated me that Donovan couldn't bother to be here after his snappish demands in the email, and as the minutes ticked by without a sign of him, I considered leaving. But just as I rose from the chair, the door popped open.
Turning, I stared at a man wearing a spiteful smile. Holding a tablet, he typed out what I was sure was a nasty greeting accusing me of whatever failure I'd managed to accomplish that morning. The responsive beep came from the reception desk.
Eyes narrowed on him, I stood from my seat and crossed the room to retrieve the tablet. Picking it up, I almost threw it at him.
You're late.
My head snapped in his direction. "I arrived at eight exactly. It's not my fault you didn't bother to unlock the door."
Amusement arched Donovan's eyebrow, irritation flickering through his gaze. After staring me down for a full minute, he typed out his answer.
I left a note for you on the reception desk. Had you explored your new surroundings, you would have found it. One of the important traits in an administrative assistant is the ability to manage their tasks without direct oversight.
He was so infuriating. But rather than stomping my foot and tossing myself down to have a tantrum that would make a toddler look angelic, I breathed in, held the breath, breathed out and responded.
"I wasn't aware that I was walking into a new job without instruction. I'll make my way on my own from now on."
His jaw ticked, but he refrained from responding. Instead, he walked away from the door, allowing it to slam closed and locked before I could lunge forward to reach it. My hands clenched into fists. Stomping my way back to the reception desk, I grabbed the note.
Good morning, Ms. Jennings. Please use the tablet to let me know you're here and I'll unlock the door.
Eyes rolling in my head, my fingers flew over the tablet. I'm here.
A response came through instantly. You're late. I said eight sharp. It is now eight fifteen.
Against my better judgment, I apologized. I'm sorry. It won't happen again.
Seconds ticked past. I'll unlock the door. Be sure to arrive on time for the remainder of your employment.
I needed to calm down. Already in a precarious mood when I'd arrived, Donovan's game only added to my disillusionment. There were five thousand dollars sitting in my bank account. Well, to be fair, there were two thousand, five hundred and sixty seven dollars after my bills were paid. Was it enough to float me by until I found another job? The thought echoed in my mind as Donovan unlocked the door between the waiting area and the back of the office. His eyes found mine immediately, a mysterious expression shadowing his face. It was friendly, but not kind. Annoyed, but not angry. It was smug and lit a fire inside me with the need to slap it away.
Standing with his back to the open door, he angled his head toward the back office. It shouldn't have driven me so crazy that he couldn’t talk. It wasn't his fault that an accident or nature had stripped him of the ability, but still I found myself annoyed to be bossed around by head gestures and electronic beeps on a tablet. Palming the device, I dutifully walked past him, pausing when I reached the poorly lit interior.
At least he was enough of a gentleman to hold the door for me to walk through that time. But I began to wonder if he wasn't blind as well as mute. The lights weren't on and only the orange glow of security bulbs illuminated the interior. Glancing over my shoulder, I caught him studying my ass.
No. Not blind after all.
"May I turn on some lights?”
Nodding his head, Donovan tracked my movement with his eyes, a smirk stretching his lips that deepened each time I flicked a glance over my shoulder to look at him. Reaching out, I flipped the switch, my eyes squinting as soon as the bright overhead lights flared on.
The room wasn’t much. To the front sat the reception desk that was visible from the front lobby. A wall separated the desk from a corner nook that held another desk, the surface stacked high with paperwork and odd computer parts. Shelves lined the back wall that were also packed with more paperwork and computer parts. It occurred to me in that moment that I had no clue what Donovan’s company did.
Turning to him, I stood silent for a second when our eyes met, the clear blue of his eyes glittering beneath the lights. His silence bothered me yet again, but I tried to force back the frustration and discomfort. Filling the silence, I looked around the room once more before forcing myself to meet his observant gaze. “What would you like me to do?”
Grinning, he tapped his thumbs over his tablet.
Administrative Assistant tasks… he answered, the beep of his response lighting the screen of my tablet.
The response caused my eyes to roll. Breathing out, I shifted my weight between my feet and finally admitted I had no clue what that meant.
“Listen, Donovan-“
His thumbs flew over his screen again, the beep cutting me off before I could finish my sentence.
I prefer Mr. Stone.
After reading his correction, I ignored the racing of my heart and the tension in my muscles. “Listen, Mr. Stone.” Pausing, I waited for him to take issue with the tone of my voice, or maybe the expression on my face, but he stood motionless, his full attention on me. I didn’t want to admit how uncomfortable it was to have his full attention.
When he didn’t interrupt me again, I continued.
“I applied for the job here, and even accepted it, without knowing much about your company. As such, I’m not sure what is expected of me, or what help you need. A little bit of direction would be helpful on my first day. I’m not asking you to hold my hand, but if you could at least tell me what needs my attention first, that would be helpful.”
The corners of his lips twitched with amusement, the movement drawing my eye. It was irritating that he found my befuddlement so entertaining. It would have been nice to give him the finger and walk out, but I had no choice. I had to stay.
After a few seconds of tense silence – seconds he used to scan me up and down with that unsettling stare – he finally lifted his tablet and fired off responses to my question.
Stone Industries is a computer software company that also performs local hardware installation. Jackson Pruitt is my hardware guy, so you’ll have no duties in that area beyond scheduling appointments. For the software side of the business, you’ll also have no function. All I need you to do is maintain the office calendar for Jackson and myself, as well as billing and filing. I also need you to handle the deliveries. That should be simple enough.
Scanning the response, I inwardly groaned. I knew nothing about software or hardware. Hell, I could barely manage the internet on my own computer. There would be no room for growth in the company, and I’d spent five years earning a marketing degree that was meaningless in this business. Still, without another option, I had to grin and bear it.
Offering Donovan a forced smiled, I nodded my head and breathed out hard enough to lift my bangs from my face. Looking around at the piles of paper everywhere, it appeared I had plenty to do. Turning back to him, I didn’t miss the amusement still glittering behind his eyes. “I take it all of these papers need to be filed away?”
Inclining his head, his lips pulled into a smile. The expression was both gorgeous and menacing, a combination that chased chills down my spine.
Without warning, he moved forward. I jumped back to stay out of his way. Shoulders shaking with silent laughter, he crossed the room, moving slightly left of where I’d been standing and placed his hand over a stack of file folder boxes. Slowly, his head turned to look between the boxes and me, his silent command heard loud and clear.
“Thanks,” I mumbled in response, wishing the room was larger so that we weren’t so close together.
Unsure what it was about Donovan that traced phantom fingers of fear across my skin, I stood still, refusing to budge an inch until he’d crossed the room again to stand next to his door. Without bothering to look back at me, he walked into his office and slammed the door behind him. A sigh of relief blew over my lips that I was alone.
My eyes scanned the room to take inventory of the stacks covering every surface of the shelves and desk. If I had to guess, I would say that nothing had been filed since the day he started his business. The task would be daunting, but I wasn’t unhappy with the amount of work staring me in the face. If anything, it would make the hours pass quickly so that I could race out of here exactly at five.
A filing cabinet was noticeably absent in the suite, and I vacillated between knocking on Donovan’s door to ask what he wanted me to do with the files once I was done compiling them and figuring it out myself. Standing in the center of the room, I took a step toward his door, but stopped before reaching it. It was ridiculous that I didn’t feel comfortable around my boss. But yet, there I was, stepping forward and then back again, my head clogged with indecision.
Before I could make a decision either way, the tablet I’d laid on the desk beeped from behind me. Narrowing my eyes on the device, I stepped over and read the message.
While I appreciate your dancing skills, I’d prefer you get busy with filing rather than standing in the center of the room moving back and forth.
My eyes widened, my neck arching back as I searched the walls and ceilings for cameras. Unable to see anything, I scowled down at the tablet and typed out a response.
Sorry. I wasn’t sure whether I should bother you with a question or not.
There had to be cameras in the room. He’d all but said that in his message to me. But where? As far as I could see, there were no telltale red lights that would indicate I was being watched.
What’s your question? My tablet beeped, followed by, The cameras are hidden. Just know that you are being recorded at all times. I don’t pay people to sit around on their ass or dance in the center of the file room.
Jerk. Growing tired of the way he constantly picked on me, I quickly typed out my question, hoping to end the conversation. Is there a filing cabinet? What would you like me to do with the files once I’m done?
The question seemed simple enough, yet it still took several minutes for him to answer. I wondered if he hadn’t found something more interesting and had set the tablet aside. I was about to follow suit, when it beeped in response.
No cabinet. Just stack them on the shelves.
Easy enough…I looked around…if there were actually space on the shelves. Dropping the tablet on the desk because I had no interest in continuing my conversation with Donovan, I breathed out another breath and got to work.