Millie
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My alarm alerted me to the fact that it was Monday and the beginning of another agonizing week. Everyone despises Monday, and it's the worst day of the week when you can't seem to get a grip on your life. It was returning from a vacation with a shitload of work to do. It sucked. But for me, it wasn't the shitload of work that was waiting for me that made me groan every morning. It was because I had to face my dreadful boss, Gavin. Every reminder of his existence felt like a pounding in my temples.
I awoke wanting to go back to sleep, just like any other day. My body wanted to drag itself under my warm blanket as the irritability set in, but alas, life didn't wait for anyone, particularly not a bald, selfish boss. No matter how badly I needed to sleep after hardly getting any last night. A rational person, after all, wouldn't be able to sleep at night after allowing a total stranger to intrude into their life.
Roman. I felt he was charming and friendly, but those qualities might just as easily describe a psychopath who likes to entice women before jumping them. The next thing you know, I'd be meeting my maker. But something about stubborn and curious people is, regardless of how many red flags they receive, they dive right in.
It's been over twenty-four hours since Roman offered to help me, and in those hours, I had thoroughly cleaned my entire apartment due to stress. I haven't heard from him again. I feared that he had backed out of the deal because he didn't want to waste his time helping me, or that I had been the victim of a prank.
Oh, shit. Why didn't I think of that?
When we left the bar that night, he insisted that I give him my number, but I made no effort to gain his. I was certain I'd laugh about it all and move on in the morning because I was convinced it was a prank or a dare. Either way, I made up my mind not to let it bother me. Yes, I had made up my mind to forget Roman, so why did I keep checking my messages every few minutes after leaving him? What happened to make me go from staring at my phone to having a restless night?
Some may say I was fascinated, curious, or interested. I knew what it was. Yeah, I could say I was curious or interested, but I was mostly just high on the feeling of actually talking to someone I was curious about — interested, even. Whether it was romantic or not, I felt excitement for the first time. Roman was the first person I wanted to befriend. I've never felt drawn to someone enough to want to be friends with them. I was glad I didn't get his phone number because I would have texted him constantly and he would have had to report me for harassment. I made a mental note to put him out of my mind when I woke up this morning.
It's what I did.
I worked for Harley Enterprises, a business with expertise in a number of industries, including construction, hospitality, and automotive. The company was founded by William Harley sixty years ago. After his death, his son Jonathan, inherited the company. Harley Enterprises now owns a number of hotels and condominiums across the country and produces automobiles for use in hospitals, sports venues, farms, and trucks.
Walking into work and being greeted by my boss' murderous gaze was not how I wanted to begin the day, but unfortunately, this was the norm. Gavin Higgs, who oversaw the research and development team, was the worst person to work with. Working for him was like going back to middle school, where he was the big bully and the workplace was his playground. He was never happy with anyone. He was constantly on everyone's neck. The fact that he essentially let everyone else do their job and then took the credit made me want to report him to HR every day.
He halted as soon as he saw me enter, as if he had been waiting to fix his gaze on anything to criticize.
"Mia, are you just coming in now?" he asked, hands on his waist. "Do you know what time it is?"
I held the urge to roll my eyes each time he purposely called me the wrong name. "I'm only two minutes late, Gavin."
His brow furrowed in unison. His face resembled a large red balloon. He was only thirty-eight years old, but he appeared to be fifty. I heard that his rage stemmed from growing up with a bald head.
"Only? So many things can happen in two minutes, Maya. For instance, I might need you to grab last week's report for me, or Mr. Harley could need the ones from yesterday, and you're the only one who knows where it is. And let me—"
"Okay," I interrupted, this time around not resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "I get it. I won't be late again."
He nodded. "Very well. Now get back to work before I fire you. There are files of data on my desk that needs proper filing – a little something for being late."
I sighed, knowing it was his assistant's responsibility. He didn't even ask if I had too much work. He snatched the coffee from my grip and walked away before I could pass him.
I let out a frustrated sigh as I looked at the pile of files on my desk that needed to be reviewed and then thought of Gavin's files that were also waiting for me. I got about halfway through them when I started to get sleepy. There was nothing a cup of coffee wouldn't fix. Since there was a coffee shop on the first floor, I took some spare change out of my bag.
I overheard some people whispering as I was leaving. Some of them were gazing at the personal elevator of the boss. Even though I didn't enjoy office chitchat, I couldn't help but overhear some of the conversations.
"Yes, the boss is finally here. He is with Mr. Samson now, but he will be heading up soon. I'm so excited."
"I just can't wait to see him!"
"Did you see his pictures when I googled him? He's so perfect!"
"Shh, don't let Gavin hear you."
I pressed the elevator button, shaking my head at the subject of their conversation. I heard a tiny squeal and more whispers in the air as soon as I stepped inside. It could only mean that the new Harley CEO had arrived. The only thing I knew about our new boss was that he had taken over from his brother for reasons unknown. It was unfortunate to lose Blake Harley. He was a man dedicated to his work and respected his employees. He was approachable and kind, and I believe that many members of the research and development team would have left if it weren't for him. Working under Gavin meant having one foot in and one foot out.
Losing a good boss like that might shake things up, but it doesn't appear to have, because everyone has been talking about the new boss as if Blake's departure didn't matter. Everyone was aware that the new CEO had been in New York for five days but had failed to appear until now. That could reveal a lot about him to some people.
The new boss had already left when I returned to my floor after getting coffee. For the most part, I was stunned. He just came and left already? Did he even know his responsibilities?
When I walked up to my desk, Gavin was staring at my computer. I coughed. He stepped aside to let me get back into my seat, his face irritated. I wanted to tell him that standing over me and peering over my shoulder was impolite, but I clamped my mouth shut as usual. It's better to think about it than say it. Firing people was not what Gavin does — giving people a shit load of work was.
"If you're not busy, I need you to do something, Missy," he said. Which also meant that he didn't care if I was busy or not. He drummed his fingers on my chair. "Mr. Harley wants you over at the warehouse because there's been some incident he needs a full report on. I would go, but he has me overseeing a meeting with the design team. So, I said I would let my right-hand woman handle this." He touched my left shoulder with a goofy smile.
I shrugged his hand off and grunted out a yes. I knew Gavin was always full of shit. He couldn't possibly have anything else going on. He was simply a lazy man who preferred to burden the unlucky individual, in this case, me, with all of his job.
Going all the way to the warehouse makes me angry. I was never going to make it back in time to finish my work, and it would pile up the next day. I've only been to the warehouse twice, and it was enough to make me not want to return.
"And Miranda," Gavin poked his head from his office. "You have to make sure you get those reports. Mr. Harley does not appreciate failure."
I glared at his now-closed door.
I drove in and parked my car after showing security my employee card, then stepped out into the hot weather. I went straight to the manager's office, but the door was locked.
I reached for my phone while growling and dialed Gavin's number; however, both attempts ended up in voicemail. I locked the phone and leaned against the door, huffing an angry breath and staring at nothing in particular. The security guards apparently forgot to tell me that the manager wasn't there, and they didn't know when he'd return. I had no choice but to wait. I couldn't go back to work and have Gavin on my neck for something as ridiculous as this. All I could do now was wait and hope the manager comes back.
He doesn't.
The scorching sun burned my skin and made me wish I had called in sick today. Gavin had essentially stated that I couldn't return to the office without those reports, so I stomped over to my car to get inside. I had so little gas left that I couldn't even turn on the AC. Another thing to add to the list of things that irritated me today.
My phone began to vibrate in my bag. I pulled it out in the hopes that it was Gavin returning my calls. Sadly, the man would have to be polite to return calls. No, I received the text from an unknown number.
Hey.
Because I was bored, I hastily typed a response.
Another message popped up. It's Roman.
Unaware, I abruptly sat up, banging my elbow against the seat and dropping the empty cup to my feet. I kept looking at the sentence, my heart beating faster each time. A smile broke out across my face as something within me awoke.
Thought you forgot, my shaky hands typed back.
He responded right away, which led me to wonder if he had some spare time. Like me, he could be bored.
Impossible. You're an important assignment.
At that word, warmth circulated through my stomach. Ah.
My friend thinks I'm stupid for helping you.
My hands went limp. I had a strong impression that he was texting to let me know that he no longer wanted to help, and that's why he hadn't been in touch with me. If I was being completely honest, I anticipated this. I wasn't surprised he texted to end our deal. He was courteous to me at least. Some people would have ghosted.
Oh.
He's a dumbass, so I didn't quite listen to him.
That, unfortunately, made me smile. Why should I care if he decided not to care? I had previously considered the possibility that I was the victim of a practical joke. I was prepared to move on.
Another message popped up before I could reply. What are you doing right now?
I'm at a warehouse for work. My asshole boss sent me on an errand. He always does this shit when he wants to piss off someone, and the guy I'm supposed to meet isn't back yet. I've been waiting for like thirty minutes.
Do I need to come and beat your boss up for you? I could use the exercise.
I laughed. Thank you, but no thanks. Wouldn't want you to get into too much trouble for me.
He started typing, then stopped. A few moments later, the dots appeared again. Stopped, then picked up again. It was as if he was struggling with what to say. His reply was short.
It wouldn't be a problem.
I shook my head, smiling. I didn't know what to say or how to proceed from there, but nothing seemed to be the perfect answer. For the time being, anyway. My phone agreed with me when it decided to die on me at that exact moment. I didn't have enough bars when I left the house this morning, so I expected my phone to die soon.
I slid my phone into my pocket and leaned against the seat, waiting for the manager to arrive. He never showed up an hour later. I knew I had to leave if I wanted to stay off Gavin's shitlist this week.
When I returned, Gavin wasn't in his office. I searched the conference and board rooms, but he was nowhere to be found. His ugly, beat-up car, which I assumed had been driven for at least twenty years, told me he was still here. Despite making a solid living, the man was unable to purchase a nicer car.
I was relieved that I didn't find him as I dragged my body through the office with a splitting headache because I planned to avoid seeing him for the rest of the day by finishing my work in the restroom.
"Mikayla!"
I came to an abrupt halt, cursing under my breath as I listened to the sound of my boss' voice, who had yet again called me by the wrong name, but who would not change even if I corrected him. The sound of Gavin's approaching steps on the hard floor caused me to turn around slowly in spite of my desire to flee.
He turned his large eyes to me. His shirt was crumpled, and the scent of garlic and onion that accompanied it was absolutely revolting. I was already tense since just thinking about it made me realize I hadn't eaten anything.
Annoyance took over his face. "Where have you been?" he asked in an authoritative tone. Gavin never had success trying to come across as menacing. Every time he tried to scare someone, his voice, which was deeper than the norm, made me picture a cartoon character. I always got a good chuckle out of it and felt better.
"Where have I been?" I pondered over his question, swore that if I heard anything crack right now, it would be the bones of my fingers from being curled so tightly. I let my voice steady, didn't let my face crack with any emotion when I added, "What do you mean where have I been? I was at the warehouse like you told me to be, remember? To get the reports because Mr. Harley requested them?"
More like you requested it, you asshole.
"Oh, the reports," he said with an indulgent laugh. "Didn't you get my text, Marley? The reports were sent over to me three hours ago. I could have sworn I texted you."
"Excuse me?" I rasped. My expression blackened. A hiss of disbelief came from my chest as I stared at him, pushing down the urge to strangle him.
"Sorry, Matilda, but I thought I texted you. I must have had a lot of work on my mind to remember you."
Must have?
"Anyway," he added, loosening his tie a bit. My eyes wandered to his movement, imagining myself choking him with it. His voice brought me back from my dark thoughts. "I should let you get back to work. It looks like you're going to have to stay behind and finish up your work." And then he patted me on the shoulder like a child and walked away.
"Asshole," I mumbled, turning around to go back to my desk, angry and frustrated that I wasted half an hour for nothing. Could it possibly get worse today? All I wanted to do was return home, put on some cozy clothing, and curl up in front of the TV. Now I'd be the last one to leave, and by the time I got home, I'd be exhausted. I wouldn't have time to watch Love is Blind.
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It was after seven o'clock. Except for the light in the room I was in, the office was quiet and completely dark. For several minutes, my stomach had been growling, and all I wanted was some Mexican cuisine and perhaps a strong drink.
I was typing on the computer, relieved that I was nearing the end of the day. My fingers and eyes were throbbing from typing and staring at the screen for so long that I cranked my neck, feeling a little sore from not moving it for so long. The exhaustion had set in, and I was beginning to feel the energy draining out of me.
My phone vibrated next to me.
Without so much energy, I slowly picked it up.
Come over?
My pupils dilated. I read the text several times to make sure I wasn't hallucinating anything. Roman had texted me and asked if I could come over. To his house? Where he lived? Sleep and bathe? I had to confess to having forgotten about him. That's what being under stress and fatigue does. But the desire he had for me to see his home overcame any weariness. I felt as though I had just awoken from a ten-hour nap because I had this incredible energy inside of me.
My fingers didn't type anything even though they were in a rush to, but I had to think this through carefully. Why would he call me over to his house? It was almost eight. Either way, my fingers were typing before I could stop them.
Is this the part where you invite me over and kill me?
Ah, you got me. Thought I'd be sly.
I snorted. And if by some miracle I say yes?
GAH! I was supposed to say I was exhausted, not ask for his fucking address. Stupid, stupid, stup–
The phone vibrated again and I swallowed.
Taking your chances, huh?
It wouldn't be worse than the bad day I had.
Then, perhaps all you need is good company.
That shouldn't be the thing that persuades me to visit him. I knew it was a terrible idea and stupid of me, but after the day I had, I felt like life was done surprising me. I was not particularly good at taking risks, but I wanted to. I would always place myself in a box because I was terrified to come out of it. I was so careful with how I lived that I neglected to actually live. I had distanced myself from my emotions and let chance rule my actions rather than my own decisions.
So, yes, if Roman ended up being someone I did not anticipate, I'd be able to say it was by choice rather than chance.
What's your address?