Chapter 3

Isabella

Ashgar Export Enterprises

"It's nothing out of the ordinary, this job, the only thing is that you need to stay one step ahead of me," he said. I furrowed my brow for a moment. "It doesn't matter if you don't have any experience. To be honest," he ran a hand over his face and then looked at me, "I'm having quite a difficult time finding a personal assistant. I know my secretary is sabotaging me because she wants me to depend on her, but I won't give her that satisfaction." I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "So, you'll be on a one-month trial as my personal assistant."

"Thank you, sir," I said calmly, but inside I was excited because I was finally going to have a job, even if it wasn't as an administrator. But how much does a personal assistant earn? God, I hope the salary can help me get back on my feet financially.

"Go see Eleanor to get all the information you need to fulfill the duties of the position," he continued, looking up and down, then locking eyes with mine, narrowing his eyes. "Request a uniform. Dressing in a... provocative manner is not allowed."

"Excuse me?" I asked. "Provocative?" He pursed his lips and disapproved, "Yes, Mr. Ashgar. Anything else?"

"You can go now. You start tomorrow at 6 a.m.," he said, then he stood up, took out his cell phone from who knows where, and started speaking in Portuguese. I walked to the exit with my heart pounding. I closed the door behind me and walked down the hallway, turned a corner, and there she was, Eleanor Bruce. From the way she looked at me, she was clearly ready to sabotage me, just as Mr. Ashgar had mentioned, but I'm not one to back down. And to think I was going to leave, except that my pride got in the way: "Aren't you going to take the risk?" I took a deep breath and let it out between my teeth, trying to calm myself.

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. First observation.

"Welcome to your one-month trial, Miss Sanchez. Mr. Ashgar has just informed me to give you the book with everything he has been adding so that it's followed to the letter. You have to take good care of it because he gets angry even if there's a single stain or crease," she handed me a thick folder with documents. I was going to flip through it, but I thought it would be better to wait until I got to the department.

"Thank you," I said.

"You'll need luck to memorize all those documents by tomorrow at 6 a.m. Why? Because that's when you're supposed to start," she said. "Yes, Mrs. Bruce," I replied, and she smiled, raising an eyebrow.

"So, good luck," she said, then smiled triumphantly, turning around to circle her desk and sit in her powerful leather chair. "By the way," she said, pointing to a desk in the corner. "That's your workspace. Clean it before using it."

"Yes, Mrs. Bruce," I looked at the desk with a PC, a keyboard, and a table next to it for folders or books. I had to learn everything that was done in this company if I wanted to shut Mrs. Bruce up.

"I also need to inform you," I turned to her after putting the folder with the documents down. "You have to be fully available for Mr. Ashgar. He often travels a lot, and when he's not here, I'm in charge."

"Yes, Mrs.

 Bruce," I could see the annoyance in her eyes. "Anything else, Mrs. Bruce?"

"No. Just make sure you learn everything I gave you. You can't make any mistakes because, at the first one, you'll have to leave. Your trial month will be over."

"Why don't the others who have come last?" I asked, but she ignored my question, pretending to look at her iMac screen. "I figured," I muttered under my breath, turning towards the desk. It wasn't dirty or broken; it was impeccable, just needed to arrange the furniture.

"You'll have to go to the personnel department to order a uniform that fits you. You can't dress so... provocatively," she said. I closed my eyes upon hearing that word again, then turned to her and put on a fake smile.

"Why do you say it's provocative? If it's at the same height as your skirt, I'm not showing any skin, like the one who greeted me when I entered the company."

"It's too... tight," she pointed to the dress shirt I was wearing under my blazer.

"Oh, it's the size."

"You should choose a size that fits you, not force yourself into one that doesn't," her words somehow struck a chord within me.

"Thank you," she raised an eyebrow, then I turned towards the desk, not sitting down again – the first time was on the bus – and it had creaked a bit. It would be better to immediately get a uniform in my size; otherwise, I would be embarrassed once I poked someone's eye out with a button, or Mrs. Bruce's eye. Given her disdainful attitude, it wouldn't be bad to straighten her jaw a bit. "One question, could you tell me where the personnel department is?"

"I'll take you there. Follow me," it was Mr. Ashgar's voice. "That way, I can sign off on the trial month at once." I nodded and noticed Mrs. Bruce standing up in a soldier-like motion, seeking his approval.

"No. I said I'll go myself, thank you," he entered the elevator and gestured for me to join him. I entered clumsily and stood at the back. He pressed the twentieth-floor button, and the doors started to close, and that's when I noticed his tension. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket; only his dress shirt was visible, and from my position, I saw his broad back and how the fabric clung to his arms. "God, he's a Greek god carved in the heavens," I cleared my throat, distancing myself from those unacceptable thoughts. The elevator stopped, and he stepped out without letting me pass. I followed him, and the noise from the elevator doors opening ceased as he left. We stopped in front of a man in a suit. "Mr. Mohamed?"

"He's waiting for you inside, Mr. Ashgar."

"Thank you," he gestured for me to enter with him. As we entered the office, the tall and well-built man stood up.

"Mr. Ashgar, I have everything ready," he informed.

"Perfect. I need..." he discreetly looked at me, then sighed and shook his head disapprovingly, before turning to the other man. "A temporary uniform until I buy a more suitable one for her position."

"Yes, Mr. Ashgar," he looked at me and nodded. "Welcome, Miss Sanchez. Come this way," he pointed to an entrance, and I followed him, realizing it was the uniform area. He took one from a shelf and handed it to me. "I hope I didn't get the size wrong," he said worriedly.

"It's okay, thank you," I cleared my throat. "If

 I lose weight, can I change the size?" He nodded.

"Of course, absolutely."

"Thank you," then we left the room, and Mr. Ashgar was sitting in the chair in front of the desk.

"Ready?" he asked the man.

"Yes," he took some documents and handed them to me. "Here you go, Miss Sanchez. This is the contract for your position as a personal assistant."

"Thank you," I said, accepting the documents.

"Take a seat and read them carefully while Mr. Mohamed and I sort out a matter."

"Yes, Mr. Ashgar," but I wouldn't take the seat because my skirt would burst. They started speaking in Arabic, so I focused on reading the documents while standing next to the large leather armchair. Then my eyes widened when I read: Permanent Contract, and next to it was the salary, three times more than what I earned in my previous job as an administrator. "What does a personal assistant to Mr. Ashgar do?"