An Engagement Of Parallels

1- LISA

VOTE TARGET:10 VOTES

I receive a text on my phone followed by a nudge on my arm from my friend and co-worker Aiden. Surely he has received the text too.

In anywhere between five to eight minutes our CEO will walk through those glass door on our right and span his icy gaze across the entirety of our workspace, only responding to the morning wishes with a slight nod.

That icy gaze of his is incentive enough for people to stop eating, run a hand through their attires to smooth any wrinkles, close our Instagram scrollings and straighten up to look like we are here to conquer the day.

If his stare lingers on above our head for more than a second, we stop breathing too.

"Satan will be here in a minute," Aiden mutters under his breath and tosses his coffee cup in the bin close-by. Lately, he is having a hard time with his work and presentations not turning out as expected. He is miserable.

I shake my head slightly. "You're being harsh. He ain't Satan."

"Yeah and you're not drooling."

I sigh and give him an eye roll. He is exaggerating now.

Maverick Astor is no satan.

In my three years with The Astors, I have never heard him yell at or disrespect anyone. The most he can pass for was stoic. Yes, he was a stoic at core. No emotions - not even frustration, anger, disappointment, which are often seen in every billion dollar companies these days. Afterall, burnout is a thing, isn't it?

But not for Maverick. He is always composed in an odd way. So calm that it makes the hair at the back of our neck stand and so cool that if he gives you any attention, a nod or a look, you will believe that you have surely done some wrong.

Our workspace has come to life with a single message from Miss Miller about our boss's arrival. I see Charlotte, Maverick's secretary running to illuminate the three big offices, two of which belongs to Maverick and his brother in law, Marshall James.

The three offices are internally connected and offers one of the best view of California.

We hear Charlotte curse loudly from the inside of one of the three offices and we give each other a knowing look. Reasoning with her to not wear impossibly high heels has been a lost cause. She keeps trying too hard to match Maverick's height or should I say, a certain someone's height, in order to catch his attention. That has been a lost cause too.

Aiden scolds her when she comes out limping and panting. "Its not a dress code but you women keep doing this to yourself."

I eye my flat Toms. "Not us just her."

"Shut it you too. I'm already in pain." Charlotte winces.

Aiden looks from me to her confused, and then throw his hands up exasperated.

A chorus of good morning greetings passes around as Maverick enters and though its not a compulsion, we stand and greet him by our own accord. But again, that's the aura he commands.

Not deterred by the awe in everyone's eyes, he passes a glance over, not really looking at any of us with his jade green eyes, give a slow nod and in long stride matching his six-three frame, enters his office.

And then we wait for a minute or so before Marshall James, the CEOs brother in law, is escorted by a helper pushing his wheelchair towards Maverick's office.

If Maverick was the cold winter night, Marshall was the bright summer day. Given how his life has been, he always wears a pretty smile and chat with all of us. He makes people seen, warms them with his presence and often offers advices on how to not piss Maverick. The testament to our relationship remains the fact that he called each of us spidey and we called him our MJ.