Aspiring Nobody

Chapter 2 Three's a crowd

ERIN'S POV

His tanned arm plunges inside the cardboard box and he pulls out a thick stack of papers, dropping them on the desk. "These are why you're here. I need you to go through this box of statements, and then highlight every deposit that goes into an account named Perry enterprises. Nothing more... do you think you can do that?"

"I'm no Steve Hawkins, but I'm sure I can manage that... I have a favor to ask."

He rests back on the edge of the desk. "I don't normally do favors unless I get something in return."

Of course he doesn't. What was I thinking? The man is a straight-out pig. But I do my best not to burst into tears since my period is due and I am more sensitive than normal. "Well, maybe favor is the wrong word... I'd just rather you not tell my brother Ryan that I'm working for you."

He taps his fingers against the desk. "How old are you?"

"20."

"Which makes you an adult."

"Yes. I'm aware. But Ryan can be--"

"Not my problem." He pushes up from the desk and walks for the door.

One hour later, and I am highlighting—alone. This whole situation is extremely uncomfortable and making me anxious. I've spent more time listening to the banging noises coming from upstairs and looking over my shoulder than looking at the statements. I can't help it. Every time I hear a noise, I get distracted and wonder what's going on upstairs. Even now, the sound of the floorboards creaking has me stiffening in the chair, not sure what to expect. Within seconds, I can hear his heavy steps coming along the hall.

"Got much done?" He asks.

I turn around to face him. "Not really."

He nods, pulling the open zipper on his jeans closed. "No. I expect it'll take two weeks to get through the boxes." His aggressive tone is now calm. Even so, it doesn't put me at ease, nor does the prospect of having to endure his company for two weeks. "Boxes?"

"That's right," he says. "Only I don't have two weeks. I need them done in one." He walks to the corner of the room, grabs the second chair, and pulls it to the end of the desk.

I almost groan in protest, until a tap on the door has me spinning around and taking in the pretty blonde dressed in black gym clothes. She looks like a personal trainer or someone about to hit the gym.

He sighs. "What is it, Lana?"

She tucks the front of her tee-shirt into her pants and then pulls her ponytail over her shoulder, looking intimidated by his cool response. "I thought I'd come say bye before I leave."

"That's unnecessary." He sits back. "I told you I'd be working, and to show yourself out."

Her cheeks flush red before her eyes dart to me. "I guess I just wanted to double check that we're still good for next Thursday?"

He shrugs. "That depends on my schedule."

She nods. "I wasn't aware you had someone down here."

"Yeah, well, as I already told you, I'm working."

"Doing what?"

He groans. "Sorting through statements."

She glares between him and me. "You expect to me believe that?"

Styles slams his hand on the desk, hard, making me jump in the chair. "First up, I don't care what you think? Secondly, I don't have the time for this bullshit, so if you don't mind, leave me the fuck alone so I can get back to work."

The blonde storms out the door, and he lets out a deep sigh as he grabs a highlighter and a stack of papers from the box. Talk about uncomfortable. So he was upstairs having sex with her. I knew I heard a woman. And now I can smell her all over him. What sort of man is he to have me down here working while he's upstairs having sex? Through the corner of my eye, I watch him crack his knuckles before refocusing on the statements in front of him.

"So, tell me something about yourself, Miss Edberg?"

Without looking at him, I hit the highlighter against my chin and stare at the columns in front of me. "I've recently moved to Sydney to attend university where I'm studying veterinary science."

He grabs the stack of papers I've looked over and then runs his finger down the columns I've highlighted. "You've highlighted the wrong account. I'm not paying you to make fuck ups? At this rate, it'll take you a week to get through one box. And there's no guaranteeing it won't be full of mistakes. Maybe it's time you consider your visions not as good as you think, Miss Edberg?"

The highlighter slips through my fingers, hitting the glass table. "You don't think I know what you're doing?"

He shrugs. "What am I doing?"

I'm the one now drawing in the breath of anger and frustration. "Besides belittling me, you're trying to make me feel guilty about your car. Fact is, you almost run me down today. I don't hear you apologizing for that. Instead, you... you keep implying that I'm the one at fault! That I'm visually impaired or something."

He sits back in his chair. "Maybe that's your guilty conscience. Because if you hadn't been on the road today, I would not have a damaged car, am I right or am I right?"

At this point I am furious but containing it well. "So it's my fault. I should be paying you for the damages, is that it?"

He tosses the piece of paper on the desk and smirks. "What, ten-dollar instalments for the next five years. No thank you."

That's it!

The chair scrapes against the floor as I stand. As broke as I am, I refuse to endure another second with this pig! I write my details on the bottom of the bank statement and then toss it at his bewildered face. "Get in touch with me when you find out the cost of repairing your car. Not that I believe I am at fault. But I'll pay for half the damages, just to shut you up! But as far as me working for you, I quit! I'd rather hike my dress up at the nearest intersection than sit down here and listen to you and that woman have sex ever again!"