Walking through the corridor, just behind Mr. Montoya, I gulp as I feel a thousand stares our way. People slow down their pace as we walk by, smiles covering everyone's faces as they greet Montoya. He, on the other hand, doesn't even seem to acknowledge them.
"Good morning, Mr. Montoya," the middle aged woman, who directed me to his office the first time I came here, greet him, and he nods before disappearing into his office. At least she got a nod.
"Good morning, Miss Abrahams."
"Good morning, Ms...." I trail off, searching for a name tag.
"Call me Fiona."
"Good morning, Fiona. And you can call me Hannah."
"Alright, Hannah. Do you have the plan for today organized and ready?"
"Uhm, yes, thanks for emailing it to me yesterday. I have everything under control, unless there's anything new?" I ask her, and she narrows her eyes on her computer screen.
"The interior team chosen for the Antique shop on Melbourne Street has just reported problems regarding the suppliers of the furniture components. The suppliers haven't been contacted yet. This will probably cause delay in the whole process, possibly about 2-3 days."
Antique shop. In Melbourne street. The street he kissed me in. The place I used to work at. Oh my God.
"I guess that's not good?" I bite the inside of my cheek.
She looks up from the screen.
"No. It's not. Mr. Montoya will be furious."
That's exactly what I don't need.
"Yes, he'll probably end up firing someone. His temper is short."
"Firing someone?!" I exclaim, my voice trembling.
"Yes. Probably you."
"Nah, I'm just kidding. But he'll be really mad. He doesn't have time for things to go wrong. He hates when things go wrong. So don't be surprised if he gets all snappy."
"Don't tell me I'll have to put up with his caveman attitudes," I groan. It takes me a second and Fiona's shocked expression to realize what I just said.
"What?" the words stumble out of her mouth in between a shocked laugh.
"I mean - "
Suddenly, she full on bursts into a fit of laughter.
"You're funny, darling. He really can be a caveman sometimes."
"More like all the time." I roll my eyes.
"He's not that bad."
I shoot her my best 'you can't be serious' gaze.
"I mean, he's cold; he's distanced. But he's hardworking and he takes his job seriously. Everyone respects him for that."
"I hope I will one day too." I sigh.
"Trust me, you will."
"Alright, if there isn't anything else, I'll go on and tell him the plan for today. Wish me luck."
"May the odds be ever in your favor." She smiles. And I already love her for that reference.
I take a deep breath before I start moving my legs towards his office.
Knocking on the door twice, as Francesca told me to do, I step inside. Montoya is already seated by his table, his gaze fixated on his computer screen. Walking a little bit closer to his table, I intentionally step harder onto the ground, making sure he can hear the click of my shoes.
YOU ARE READING
Having to move to a far too small house in the suburbs as a result of her aunt Donna's one night of crazy gambling in Vegas, Hannah is desperate to get their life back on track. With a jaw dropping loan, the last thing she needs is for the the hands...