The Hired Wife

The Hired Wife - Chapter 3

"Ms. Anderson, come see me in my office... Right now!"

I winced at the animosity that laced his tone. Sighing, I started to make my way from my desk to his office, which was only separated by a pair of large mahogany doors. Who knew a wonderful and independent individual like me could be degraded and stripped until all you had was a hollow machine within a matter of just a few weeks? Because that's what Mr. I'm-so-great-and-you're-so-inferior has done to me. It's horrible! All my days consist of is fetching the horrendous man coffee from the third floor (yes, the one practically at the very bottom), reading him his schedule every morning, calling clients, canceling appointments, blah blah blah blah blah. I mean, I shouldn't be disappointed since I knew what job I was signing up for, but in the back of my mind where my fantasies go undisturbed, I had imagined him giving me something more exciting to do - like planning one of his special company parties he holds every quarter, or - I dare say it - letting me give some of my own input once in a while. I knew I had so much to offer, but what he only seemed to notice were by coffee-procuring abilities.

Once I reached the twin doors, I knocked politely and waited for his permission to enter, fuming in the process. I had never been this submissive and yet I always seemed to bow down in his presence - heck, I can't even think about his name before I fall to my knees and start offering him animal sacrifices. It's infuriating!

The sound of my name through the wood quickly pulled me from the onslaught of my thoughts.

"Ms. Anderson," the voice growled, saturated with impatience.

Oops! I fumbled for the doorknob and after about three tries I eventually got it to open. Dang door. I was about to reprimand the piece of wood and its stubbornness when a figure was suddenly moving my way. The door slammed behind me before I noticed the firm arm by my head that had shut it. That man who I swear will be the death of me quickly returned to his desk and retorted, "I do not appreciate delays, Ms. Anderson. Consider this your first and last warning."

I contorted my face in confusion and disgust. Who did this guy think he is?! A god or something? 'Godly enough to control your employment status,' my mind stated. I had to give myself that one, but he could at least TRY to be civil.

Defeatedly mumbling, "I understand," Mr. Monte turned around to face me with a peculiar expression on his face. He looked like he was battling some kind of complex... Like he was trying to decide whether or not he should euthanize the dog he didn't own. This definitely was not his usual let's-get-down-to-business glare. I started to quietly hum Mulan while I waited for him to spit out what he was obviously struggling to say. Was I really that unapproachable? I started getting impatient myself and I childishly mocked him, thinking, 'I do not appreciate delays, Mr. Monte.' Snorting at my own cleverness, Mr. Monte's head shot up and his beautifully evil eyes narrowed, probably having read my thoughts, the devil.

He skillfully composed himself and then calmly stated, "Though I may regret this in the near future, I need to ask something of you, Ms. Anderson."

Wait. He was asking ME for a favor? Ha! Oh if only I could record this moment so I could have it with me forever and pull it out whenever I felt sad. "Alright," I said, attempting to hide the sound of victory in my voice, and making it crack instead. 'Oooo! Nice touch!' I complimented myself.

He continued, "The CEO's of all the other major companies are breathing down my neck right now. They know I don't have a wife, and therefore no offspring to take up the company once I am gone, and seeing that this is a family company - having inherited it from my father - these fellow enterprises are just drooling at the idea of splitting up Monte & Sons for their own benefit. Simply, I need them to think I am on my way to getting that heir for the future of the company and to let them wallow in thinking they lost. So," he concluded, "you will act as my wife until I feel my convincing the other corporate powers of my hold on Monte & Sons is secure, and will continue until the end of he business quarter for good measure. You will be paid extra of course and you start tomorrow."

"What?" I said breathlessly. Mr. Monte stared at me nonchalantly until I couldn't handle the silence anymore.

"What?!" I asked again, exasperated.

"You will pretend to be my wife until the end of the business quarter," he coolly replied, slowly annunciating each word as if I were some naive child. "It's really quite simple, so I don't know why you're looking at me like that."

I stood there clenching my teeth and fuming, staring at this insufferable man - dumbfounded as to why he would think I would just drop my whole life outside of work for him in the blink of an eye. What made it worse was when he returned his attention back to his desk and started to straighten out some files and stacks of paper. The audacity of this man!

When he finally realized I hadn't moved an inch from where I was standing a few minutes ago, he looked back up at me with a blank expression and asked, "Ms. Anderson, why are you still here?"

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to peacefully let out all the anger and frustration that was pent up inside me and then curtly turned around and left his office.