Dangerous Games

“FIRE! ANDREA THERE’S A FIRE!” Tobias’ shrill voice sounded from the kitchen and I almost dropped the plates I was precariously balancing on my arms. With a wild look in his eyes, he ran into the front room not caring that he was scaring the living daylights out of the customers, who had increasingly concerned looks on their faces. It just had to be the day I was left in charge that Tobias would set the place ablaze. I rushed into the kitchen, quickly slipping the plates I was holding onto the counter and as I felt the heat of the room blast from the stove that was indeed going up into flames I wondered how Tobias was still employed. Roaring flames, that tried their best to lick the highly flammable ceiling, burst from the pan. In a display of orange and red, a distinct difference to the burning blue of the hob’s flame. I didn’t have time to think, I couldn’t remember if a wet cloth was the best for these sorts of fires so I just did the most rational thing and reached for the fire

I had gone insane, I knew that for a fact as I lay down on my small single bed staring at the glossy black business card in my hands, with silver lettering embossed in a clear font that screamed professional.Corbyn Emerson CEO of Emerson Industries.I regretted the decision immediately, the moment he had pressed his business card into my palm, the cool touch of his skin against mine, sending waves through me, that I had made a mistake. There was something in those eyes that told me he knew something that I didn’t. Maybe this was a trap, maybe this was a Ponzi scheme or the front for an illicit money laundering and drug circle. My imagination ran wild, pulling at different threads of trashy guilty pleasure novels I had read about women falling into a world of danger and criminal activity once they were approached by a brooding CEO.Though Corbyn Emerson didn’t appear to be a Mafia Lord or gang leader, he seemed too proper for that. And judging from the lack of visible tattoos that di

I had lost my mind. I had gone completely and utterly insane. I guess it was a good thing my body clock never could recalibrate itself. I was always up by six in the morning if that. I was far from a morning person but I had trained my body to wake up at the crack of dawn so that I had the time to both contemplate my life and organise myself into some semblance of a successful woman. That had been the old me anyways before I was destroyed by a man who I don’t think deserves his name even to flicker through my thoughts. I knew I would need my business attire sometime soon, I could feel it in my bones. Of course, I knew a brooding CEO would deliberately blackmail me into working for him so that he could destroy my ex-fiance. What a typical Monday morning for me. I stared at myself, it had taken me forever to decide, a stylish suit or pencil skirt, I knew I was a PA, and the pencil skirt was a safe option but when had I ever played it safe? Never. That was the answer. My reckle

“Why do you ask?” The problem with implementing a sort of test where you assumed the person being questioned would lie is that you didn’t think that far ahead. I had no idea what to say now.“Oh um, well we’re friends, just thought you should know. I mentioned this crazy proposition and she well she knew you, which I mean small world right?”I was rambling, I was nervous, and I didn’t know why.“Not particularly, I already knew that you were friends,” he said so casually as though it wasn’t incredibly weird for him to know so much about me.“I mean- wha-how?” I sputtered.“I make sure that I know all about my prospective employees,”“You’ve been planning this for a while haven’t you Mr Emerson, it wasn’t an accident that you were in that restaurant on the day I was left in charge, so tell me,” I leaned forward bracing my hands against his desk, “How long has this been going on?”“A while,” he drawled as though it was completely normal.“And how long is a while?”“Two and a half years,

I had come to the conclusion I really, really despised Kendal Groves, which you may say is unfair given the fact I haven’t met her. But rearranging all the important documents that belonged to Corbyn Emerson just to be petty, knowing damn well that he wasn’t going to fix them himself and was just dooming her replacement with the laborious task of making sure everything was once again in the correct order.Sure, she wouldn’t have known it would be me, but it’s the principle of it, by trying to get back at Mr Emerson she just made some poor PA’s life harder, whilst she shared all her secrets with Artymov and Co.It took hours, and I mean hours, this was supposed to be a 9 to 5, well 8 to 5 in Mr Emerson’s case, but it was getting close to 8 and I still hadn’t moved from the store room, a large number of files divided by client and date, the British Date, in tall piles that needed to stay in that exact order or I would go insane.I had spent at least 6 hours, in this cramped space, tryin