The Billionaire's Getaway Tryst

~Chapter 15~

"I'd suggest that you read it this time. Without skimming and especially Clause 8 (6)."

These words kept on echoing in my head in a continuous loop and all I wanted to do was just curl in my bed. The second I'd reached my apartment last night, I crawled my way into my emails. Not taking Ms. Maxwell's advice to read through the whole thing, I just went for the "especially Clause 8 (6)" strong suggestion.

When I'd read it, it felt like my whole circulation was cut off if that's even possible.

I couldn't remember the exact "law" words of that entire context but I did get the gist of what it meant. In fact, it spoke volumes.

The simple version of what it said was that - do not be intimate with your boss. It was like a punch in my gut and I didn't have the energy to go to my office but I didn't want to seem like an even bigger fool either.

I sat down on my chair with a heavy heart and expected a chirpy 'good morning' from Chelsea but it didn't come. I turned toward her cubicle to find it empty. I just sighed and powered on my computer to write down the script for the radio. Somehow my brain had managed to conjure up a fantastic idea while it was under intense stress yesterday.

As my fingers quickly typed away on the computer, one thought continuously struck me. How did Ms. Maxwell even find out? How'd she come to know about it before that silhouette day? And if she'd known this the whole time then why approach me now?

What bugged me more than that was that my mind not only sought out for those answers but was also screaming one word in particular. Envelope, envelope, envelope. It was chanting this word incessantly but I couldn't quite put my finger on what it exactly meant.

"Hey, Jones!" I glanced up to see Samantha giving me a confused look. "Ms. Maxwell wants to see you?" It came out more as a question than a statement. I could tell that she was surprised since I was asked to meet our boss twice in a row.

"Oh, okay." I nodded my head and smacked my lips after she vanished off in some direction.

Do I even wanna see her? No. No, I don't. But do I have a choice? No. No, I don't.

I stood outside Ms. Maxwell's office for one whole minute, in hopes of composing myself. When I knew that it was useless anyway, I finally knocked on her door. "Come in," I heard.

As I walked in, I saw her spectacled eyes writing down something at an inhumane speed. For some reason, I was sure that if I went closer to look at it, it would look gibberish to me. Not anything more or less than a doctor's handwriting. It was just an assumption about her handwriting though.

Ms. Maxwell put down her pen and gave me her full attention. "Please sit down, Ms. Jones."

I sat down in front of her and observed her silently. One thing I've come to learn about this old yet smart woman was that she has everything under control even when at times, it might not be the case. Her face is always stoic and stern but she never barks or frowns on someone until necessary. Which scared me the most because right now, I was her object. And I couldn't tell how she'd talk to me.

"I am hoping that you read the manual and all our policies," she spoke tightly.

I swallowed a big lump in my throat and nodded weakly. "Yes, Ms. Maxwell."

"Good. So, I hope that you know the position I'm in as well. Most of this company's policies, norms, rules and regulations are formulated beforehand. Sometimes, even the Registrar has a hand behind it. I am simply doing my job," she explained and sighed. For the first time in my two months of working here, I saw that she was weary. About everything and I was one of the problems topped on her plate full of delicacies.