A Troublesome First Impression

Part I

Crown Architects & Builders towered most of the buildings of Manhattan. I can hardly breathe just theorizing what it feels like looking down from above.

It's beautiful. I mean the general design of the building. It was not as tall as Steinway Tower, but it can definitely take your attention. It has a shape of a cylinder, a fact that can be proven further if you're in a miniscule distance. It look like a bigger version of Rome's Colosseum, having imitated eight gigantic pillars which I believe the purpose is more on design than foundation. The voluptuous display is completed by the enormous dark glasses that restricted a view from the outside. And lastly, the huge silver letters forming its company name, looks down proudly over the entrance.

I would not be surprised to see such an outstanding view if it's a construction and design company like this.

I proceed to the entrance, and each steps I make only served to further make me nervous. I breathe heavily.

The glass door of the entrance is huge, but regardless of its appearance, it is completely easy to push. I glance around. What I expected from the interior, while I was outside, is entirely the same as the kind that greet me. It is huge, something obvious from the wide and heavy exterior. It is fairly-lit, the walls having dark colors, mainly black and gray. What adds to its soothing sensation is the soft and hygienic smell of the air-conditioning. If I am to sit on a couch in this kind of building, I would only end up falling asleep.

There is a desk clerk at the front of the entrance, doing her usual company chores. She is pretty, having blonde hair and in a suit of dark.

“Hi,” I say as I approach her. She looks at me and her face brings out a smile of genuine hospitality.

“Good morning, ma'am. How may I help you?” she asks. Now that I have a closer look of her, I realized her eyes are yellow. Something I believe is rare.

“Uhm…my name is Kiela Taylor. I applied for the executive assistant's position, and I received an email from the company. I'm here for an interview,” I introduce.

“Oh, yeah. I'll notify Mr. Crown about it.” She reaches for her telephone and places the mouthpiece next to her soft pinkish lips. She stares blankly at the paper in front of her for a moment, before she drops the telephone down.

“Mr. Crown is not in his office. He must have something important to do, but I'm sure he'll be back for a few minutes. Would you like to wait for him?” she asks politely. As if there's anything more I can do but wait.

“Of course,” I reply.

“Lovely! There's a couch outside of his office. You can wait for him there. There's also another desk clerk there, so please don't be afraid to ask her something for your convenience.” The way she speaks is like a hypnosis. The way she delivers her words, the way she utters them and the way she gestures her hands as she talks to me convince me that she indeed is good with people.

“His office is at the twentieth floor. You can use the elevator.”

I give her an equally grateful smile. I clear my throat

“Do you know where the bathroom is?” I question.

“Yes.” She walks out of her desk.

“The female comfort room is that way. Just walk down the hallway and it'll take you there.”

“Thank you.” I smile. I follow her instruction and surely the hallway takes me to the ladies room.

I study my face in the mirror. I am satisfied with my face. Not that I don't have insecurities, I do. Every single one of us has. It's just that I am more confident of how I look. Confident of how my brown smooth strands of hair rains down on my shoulder, by how my sets of dark eyes stares back at me, and the milky-white color that touched my skin. In the subject of figures, I have no problem about mine. My arms are slender, exceeding the standards of stereotypical femininity. Not to brag but my waist are slim, and have a hips that curved the fine material of my skirt. I don't find myself having big breasts—no. Though I find my bottom bigger than other ladies.

Carefully I pencil the lipstick against my lips, and add an eyeshadow.

I am now ready to face whoever Mr. Crown is. The last thing I need is the swirling sensation in my stomach.

I left the ladies room and head to the elevator. I rush in just as the door is about to close. A tall man, reading a newspaper is next to me. He is preoccupied with what he is reading that he doesn't seem to notice me. I tap my heels in a nervous rhythm.

My mind is racing. How would Mr. Crown react if he see me. Do I look professional enough for his content? I have heard a lot of rumors about this Mr. Crown. Rumors that belongs to the thing I am intimidated of the most.

The speculation had been endless, saying he fired several incompetent engineers and architects from his company. But those fired 'incompetent' engineers and architects had studied in several famous universities around the states. How high exactly is his standard?

I feel my stomach lurch. It's not often that you get picked as an applicant for the position that had been fought over. But there's no need to be afraid. I just have to make a good first impression right?

Rumors says that this man has broken more women's heart than he can count with his fingers. He is impossible to live with. Impossible to be in a relationship with. The papers always says that he only wants money, sex, and more money. He's not fond of romances. But that shouldn't stop me. His personal life, no matter how dark, is not my concern. This meeting is only about the interview, about his business, and whatever murk hovered around this man, he is a businessman and we have to talk business.

I stare thoughtfully at the elevator door when, with a sudden stomach-lifting jolt, the elevator grounds to a stop mid-floor, and the lights went out, plunging us both into an inky blackness. I breathe rapidly, heart audibly beating against my chest, panick surging with intensity.

“Oh my God!” I exclaim.

“What the hell happened?”

“I'm not entirely sure…it's either there's wrong with the elevator or the electricity went out,” a husky and manly voice comes from beside me, under the darkness of the room.

“Who are you?” I demand, suddenly suspicious.

“If you think you feel cocky enough to try to score, think again. I'm a black belt Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu fighter. Try to move a little and I'm gonna fold your clothes while you're still in them—”

“Excuse me, miss,” the man snaps.

“You're the one standing next to the control panel. Why don't you trying pressing some buttons?”

“But it's dark. I can't see a damn thing! Do you have your phone?”

“I didn't bring my phone. Don't you have yours? Or something to produce a light—a lighter or match perhaps?”

“I don't smoke,” I reply.

“Then how about your phone? Everybody carries phone,”

“You're not carrying yours,” I reason.

“You're so annoying. Just please get your phone and try to press something,” he mutter. I repeat what he said in a mock of imitation. I open my shoulder bag and reach down for my phone. I open the torch, aiming it at the buttons. I press several buttons on the panel for good luck. Nothing happened.

“Nothing's happening,” I say, aiming the light at the man. This is the first time I have seen his face. I find him good-looking and I bet he's even more than that in broad daylight. He has remarkably dense blue eyes. His hair is dark, jawline sculpted finely and his mouth is thin and chiselled. His skin tone is fair and I begin to wonder if he has a blood of an Italian. He certainly didn't look pure American. I know there is a blend of European in him.

“For God's sake! Will you please take that light away from me?” he bellow. I do as what I am told, a bit stunned by his graceful appearance. I put the light back to the panel as he press a button. He press it impatiently for several times.

“Is it working?”

“Shut up,” he says, a bit annoyed. I roll my eyes. He looks irritated now. I can see it by the reflection of the lights that touched his face.

“It doesn't seem to be working,” he says.

“Lovely. That's exactly the reason why this building has emergency buttons,” I say sarcastically. He glares at me, then proceeds to one corner of the elevator and falls down to his bottom.

“So?” says I, believing that he has a plan.

“what are we going to do?”

“Remain calm and sit down,”

“Remain calm and sit down? Are you ridiculous?” I can feel a sudden kick of impatience inside my veins.

“You're so noisy!” his voice raise.

“I have an interview for a job. How am I supposed to get interviewed if I'm stuck here?”

He didn't reply immediately.

“I don't know, but I'm sure you won't get the job,” he says without emotions.

“What the hell did you just say?” I bellow.

“You're way too loud. Nobody wants loud people, especially in a company known worldwide.”

I give him a silent response. Now I wonder, is he an employee of this company? He certainly look like one. Just with the display of his suit, he certainly look like one. Or perhaps his also an applicant for the executive assistant? But that's a bit odd for a guy to apply as an executive assistant.

“Thanks,” my voice drip sarcasm

“Absolutely helpful.”

Silence fills the atmosphere.

“How long do you think we'll stay here?” I question.

“Not sure. Thirty minutes probably,” he reply.

“Great,” I answer in a low disappointed voice. Great! Thirty minutes with this uptight schmuck, thirty minutes late from the interview. Very lucky!

I sit in the corner and exhale a sigh. I can't believe this is actually happening. That I'm actually stuck with this guy. I can not stand still in darkness and silence. It's overwhelming. It was bad enough to be stuck in an elevator in darkness while an interview is waiting for me. But why do I have to be with some schmuck?

* * *

I open my eyes and for a moment, a bit buffled by the darkness. For a second I actually thought I was blind, but I realized that me and this weird guy are still stuck in this dark and burning elevator. I open my phone and cover my face from its blinding lights. It's been roughly twenty minutes since we got stucked here. I didn't realized I actually fell asleep.

It's so hot. I feel the perspiration all over my body as though I just got out of the shower. So hot, I'd probably die in heat suffocation anytime now. It must have been the reason why I woke up.

“God, it's hot in here,” I remark, wagging one hand close to my face.

“Oh, so you're still alive,” comes a cold and unfriendly response from the man.

“Didn't realize you're still there.”

“You know what's funny? The idea that you and I just met, and you haven't seen my face and I haven't seen yours, yet I can actually jump to a conclusion that you're basically the most annoying person I have ever met in my entire life,” I tell the man.

“Are you sure about that?” he says.

“Absolutely,”

“Alright,” he simply respond in a tone that suggests something more. There's a silence that occupy the space between us. It isn't the awkward kind of silence. I actually feel more comfortable not having a conversation with such a guy.

I breathe deeply. I can feel the dryness of my throat, and the wagging action I did to produce some wind for me only served to further perspire my body.

“Gosh, it's so hot,” I repeat.

“Are you not sweating?”

“I was,”

“Was?”

“I took my jacket and sleeves off. It's more comfortable,” nonchalant he is as he replies.

“Are you kidding me?” My voice echoes, and I try to keep my frustration in check.

“You're actually naked while I'm here?”

“You're overreacting, lady. I'm topless. Not entirely naked. It's better than trying very hard to look professional in situations like this. Look at you. You look like you're having a hard time.” There is something in his tone and the way he speaks that really hits the right spot of my anger issues. I'm pissed—no, I'm annoyed. He sounds as though he's in full authority. As though he doesn't give a damn about anyone—about me. All the words his mouth just let out a mere minutes ago somehow becomes my trigger. He's arrogant. An uptight schmuck.

“No. Ain't going to take my clothes off while I'm in the company of someone like you. Who knows, you might—”

“Do you actually think I'd lay one finger on you? Yuck,” he cut me off. By this time, the moment those insult came out of his arrogant and pathetic mouth, fury begins to vibrate through my being. I really really want to hit him right now, but having a bad impression is the last thing I need for today. I sigh. He really does know the way to my nerves.

Hesitant I am but left without much of a choice, I study the situation carefully. What would happen if the lights comes back and he's topless and I'm only wearing my brassiere? How would we react? But is that what's really important now?

I take my jacket off and unbutton my sleeve, taking them off of my sweating body, leaving me a little revealing and the only thing that covers my top is my brassiere.

“Was there ever a time you spoke to someone without putting much of those insults of yours?” I stare at the dark figure that had been situated in the corner opposite to me but not actually having a sight of him. I collect the fabrics I wore and use it to cover my chest just in case.

“I carry insults and sarcasms everyday like house keys. What do you deduce?”

“That you're basically an arrogant person and you don't have friends at all,” I reply.

“I don't need friends. Those pathetic people you identify as your friends are only ordinary people who makes the word 'friends' as an excuse so somebody would provide assistance for them if ever they're in hardship. They don't really like you. They're just there because they can benefit from you,” respond the man.

“That explains the attitude. You're bitter,” I tell him.

“I'm not bitter. I'm just being honest. In a world full of liars and traitors, do you ever still find yourself having full trust and confidence to anyone, especially to your friends? Of course not.”

“It would seem that arrogance runs in some of the employees of this company as well. You're more than what I hear about your boss,” I answer which I regret I did immediately.

“You know nothing about Jordan Crown,” his voice holds a hint of warning. What's his deal anyway?

“The newspapers do,”

“You're absolutely uneducated for someone who tries to apply as an executive assistant. You shouldn't believe in everything you see on papers. You trust too much,”

“And Jordan Crown doesn't trust at all. Obviously he has some serious issues,”

“Life runs smoothly if you don't trust anyone. You'll never get anxious of when anyone will try to betray you,” he states.

“You think highly of your boss that you're actually becoming like him,”

“Like what?”

“Like the general idea of Jordan Crown. The news you read on papers and you heard from TVs,”

“Be specific,”

“Proud—too proud. Arrogant, rough and harmful,” I point out to him. He give out a little giggle.

“Do you actually think your opinion on him matters? He's wealthy and popular. He has everything, ”

“No, he doesn't have everything,”

“Like?”

“Love? Genuine love.”

He responds with silence. I wait for him to speak but he does not. It's as tough he disappear, but I can still sense his figure.

“Love huh.”

I sense perplexity in his voice.

“And trust,” I supply.

“Love and trust.”

He doesn't answer. He remain silent, thoughtful perhaps of what I said.

“A king, regardless of how important and how high his authority is, needs a queen. Perhaps a man like Mr. Crown, broken by the madness of the world and the event that shaped him into something he is now, needs love.”

Another silence, but this time his silence gives me a flash of panic. What if he plans to report this to his boss? Then there'd be no way I'll get the job.

I sweep my gaze up, my mind drifting into contemplation.

“I don't believe Jordan Crown is naturally arrogant and cold. He's not cruel. Nobody is born cruel. It's the doings of the world that makes one cruel.”

Another silence. Whatever this man is thinking, I hope it's not a plan to report me to Mr. Crown.

I stare thoughtfully at the ceiling when a tiny spark catches my attention. It is tiny and barely noticeable, but there's not doubt about it.

I spring to my feet and point a finger up at the flickering fluorescent. I hear him standing up to his feet and I can sense his powerful figure right in front of me.

“It looks like…”

All of a sudden, unexpected and abrupt, a bright light explodes right above us.