Chapter- 16

"So you're just like everyone else, Mr. Miller…"

The relentless echoes of words resonate through the walls, each syllable penetrating Ryan's resolve like a thousand knives. And still, the brunette presses on, his feet carrying him forward— at the end of the day, he is a 'good-for-nothing.'

But Ryan wouldn't falter. Gracing his fist around the cold steel knob, he refuses to turn back. He refuses to be labelled as just another mediocre soul, destined for insignificance. No, not this time. Not when his heart burns with a fire that no insult could extinguish; from infancy Ryan had learned how to stand straight without letting anyone bend his back.

The rhythm of the latter's footsteps quicken, matching the raided heartbeats that thrum in his chest. He could practically taste the displeasure seeping from Ethan's very core, "Go. Just go!" The man seethe, a desperate plea blanketed in a poisonous command.

Ryan releases his hand on the doorknob, his body shifting ever so slightly, imperceptible to any casual observer. His peripheral vision catches a glimpse of the anguished expression that twists Ethan's features. "If you truly wished for someone to stay, shouldn't you avoid driving them away then?"

Ethan chuckles softly, "Why are you still here?" A bitter self-ridicule. "Just leave!"

Ensnared in an invisible, impenetrable stillness, the world silences— Ryan fully turns his head, "I will not leave!"

Time stands motionless as the two men lock eyes, a fragile connection bridging the vast expanse that is separating them. Words hang suspended in the air, on the very precipice of existence, waiting to be set free. And the younger of the two rekindles life into the silence. With a voice thick with conviction, he dares to confront the truth that stays in the depths of Ethan's gaze. "That is what you want me to say, am I right?" The question flaps like suspended breath, a challenge that demands a response.

"What?" Ethan falters— this brunette is something else. This man, his own assistant, had dared to talk back!? "You–"

Lips curl in a wry, sardonic smile, Ryan continues, finding a newfound resolve. "No. Allow me to rephrase," he spits, a tide of a potent mixture of truth and sarcasm. "You want everyone who knows you to say it! Every person you drive away, every person you push to the edge, you 'secretly' long for them to speak the very words that sting your own tongue."

The room seems to shrink at the magnitude of Ryan's words, a weighty silence broken only by the rustle of fabric and rugged exhales. Ethan's anger surges forth like waves crashing against the shore, his eyes aflame with indignation. "Mr. Miller, how dare—"

"How dare I?" Ryan interjects, "Pardon me again, but, Sir…not everyone possesses the extraordinary true ability to read minds. Such a gift belongs to only the rarest of individuals. So why, tell me, do you always expect others to decipher the convoluted desires that lie hidden within your heart? That too, when your actions stomp upon the dignity of those around you?"

A vice-like grip constricts Ethan's chest, squeezing the breath from his lungs. His voice is a heap of desperation, an appeal for understanding. "Ryan…"

The defiant fire within Ryan's eyes burns ever brighter, casting shadows that are dancing on the wall— the brunette knows the comment 'good-for-nothing' was a bud, Ethan has not really acted as a complete asshole so far, but then…we should always nip things in their bud; who can tell, maybe Ethan Smith is holding himself back because right at this moment he has many things to loose.

"If you wish for someone to actually stay, then maybe don't command them to leave. If you long for their presence, ask them to stay. Lead them towards their potential, in place of eroding their spirits with your caustic words."

"Ryan, please…"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Haughty," Ethan's assistant had already turned his back, quite literally. Ethan keeps looking at him numbly, Ryan opens the door and walks away; his footsteps scuttling through the empty corridors.

-

Ryan's intuition nags at him curiously, urging him to return to that very location. Something was amiss during their previous visit, an unsettling feeling that couldn't be ignored— his instincts, usually reliable as they've always been, whispers a warning that couldn't be dismissed.

As Ryan concludes keying in the final words of his reports on the mundane computer that belonged more in a realm of make-believe, Ryan notices up and registers the time, the hour hand landing on 11.30. The delicate intricacies of weaving words to make a good impression had consumed a considerable amount of time, hopefully it would be worth it.

The daunting task that lay ahead demands Ryan's confidence to not only persuade his boss sitting opposite to him, but also do so professionally…that word hasn't ever existed in Ryan's vocabulary, so if mentioned 'professionalism', it is how his boss describes it— icy cold, robotic. Ethan remains blisslessly unaware of the invisible force pulling Ryan back towards the enigmatic edifice. Ryan knows, the thought of his boss allowing him into that building alone, after unsettling turn of events on their previous encounter, is unthinkable, unallowed to say the least; if not for genuine concern for Ryan's safety, but the preservation of reputed Ethan Smith's 'image'.

Albeit, even if Ryan is to convince his boss to accompany him, it would only hinder his pursuit of the truth. What is it exactly that Ryan wants to uncover? The answer eludes him, shrouding his thoughts in uncertainty.

Heedless of the perils that await him, Ryan admonishes eagerly, "I have completed typing, Sir."

"Okay," constantly putting up with the paperworks concerning finances Ethan nods. "I will look at it in a minute."

"Umm.. Sir," standing up with scruples, Ryan asks, "May I use the restroom for a bit?"

"Help yourself," the chain of events probably caused Ethan to act more reserved— his assistant isn't sure if it is for the better or worse.

"Thank you," Ryan says with slight bow, maintaining propriety. He turns away from Ethan, discreetly concealing the tumultuous emotions lurking within. "I'll be back soon."

Ryan cautiously navigates his way out of the crammed cubicle, every step bringing about a heightened sense of trepidation. The thin line between success and failure seems to hold him in their synchronised clutches.

With stealth and precision, Ryan makes his way down a dimly lit hallway. The familiar scent of ink and stale coffee circles the air. Ethan's office is bustling with activity, the sounds of muffling phones and ringing conversations…

Reaching the exit, Ryan glances back furtively, ensuring that his absence goes unnoticed and remains that way. The buzzing fluorescent lights above seem to dictate urgency, pushing him forward— whatever Ryan has to do, he has to do it quickly.

Stepping down into the bustling city streets, Ryan blends seamlessly with a parade of nameless faces. Each hurried step he takes, Ryan reminds himself to remain inconspicuous, a phantom among the masses. Clatter of footsteps and symphony of car horns prove the perfect cover for the brunette's objective.

A towering figure bit by bit begins to taunt the bloke, cropping up with its impending, impenetrable facade— Ryan approaches the nearby grey building. It stands as a symbol of the unknown, housing answers he is seeking. Heart pounding, Ryan slips into the nondescript entrance, evading hawking eyes of passerby. Step by step, he ascends the extended stairs.

"Good morning, Sir," a middle-aged man at the designated entrance greets Ryan, the bloke caught up in surveying his surroundings. Ryan's eyes catch a glimpse of a man who appears to be in his prime, standing at approximately 6 feet tall with dark brown hair neatly styled, in a two piece tailored navy blue suit.

"I'm Taylor Bennett. Mr. Smith's security guard," the man introduces himself politely, exuding professionalism. "I have heard of you, Sir's PA. You're Ryan Miller, right? It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

Correctly identified, Ryan feels a pride beaming from being addressed by an esteemed designation. "Indeed. That's correct. I'm Ryan Miller. But, um… please don't inform Mr. Haughty that I visited here. Please, you have to believe me. It's important for his safety, as well as mine."

"Mr. What?" Taylor lifts an eye.

"Uh- well, I meant Ethan Smith. Our boss, don't tell him anything…please."

"But—"

"It is for Mr. Smith's own benefit," Ryan clarifies. "Trust me, it is in everyone's best interest to keep this visit confidential."

"It's alright, Sir. I understand," Taylor holds the door open, gesturing for Ryan to go inside. "You may proceed inside. Just a suggestion, be prepared to deal with madam Sarah, the receptionist. She tends to be very short-tempered."

"Thank you once again, Mr. Bennett. I hope I can rely on your discretion," Ryan acknowledges gratefully as he walks through the entrance. The security measures had noticeably increased, with guards like Taylor stationed at every corner, and heroes without capes, emergency personnels dressed in orange.

"Excuse me. How may I help you?" To Ryan's immediate dismay, he had not given much thought to having to explain himself to the receptionist, but it appears she is dead set on becoming an obstacle, just like Taylor had warned. Interrupting Ryan's progress, she confronts the man sharply, her curvy features and vibrant emerald eyes demanding attention. "You can't go inside without following some formalities, I'm sorry," her maroon hair is pulled back in a tight high ponytail. Her outfit consisting of a front knot blouse and black pleated skirt makes her presence a very fashionably strong one.

"How may I help you?" She doesn't want to help, she doesn't even want Ryan to be present there, it is clear from the way she has been addressing.

"Good morning. I'm Ryan Miller. Ethan Smith's new PA," Ryan braces himself to face this reputed 'short-tempered' receptionist described by the guard. "I need to speak to the security staff, and the rescue personnel present."

"Okay," the woman picks a register from her bureau, "May I see your ID card please?"

Ryan is taken aback. How on earth is he supposed to acquire an ID card now at this very moment? Unprepared, he erupts. "Huh? What?"

"Your identification card please," she clarifies "Once I confirm your visit, you will need to sign in here. The CEO has strictly instructed me to admit only to those who are appointed under LOVESICK Agency. We had an unfortunate, awkward incident in the elevator yesterday that led to these heightened security measures."

"You're right. And I was actually one of the victims of that incident," Ryan is astonished by the receptionist's inferior description of the situation as 'awkward'. "I'm really the CEO's PA. You have to believe me."

"I will believe you if you can provide proof," she counters. "By the way, call me Sarah, Miss Sarah. However, if you can't substantiate your claims, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave. We are both wasting our time here."

Sarah's indifference tickles at Ryan's nerves. She seems dead set on following her superior's orders without grasping any gravity at all. "Listen, Miss Sarah, this is important. We may be in danger."

"Oh? And how can I be sure this danger you're talking about, is not you?" Sarah taunts, sharpening her nails.

"This is no joke, Miss Sarah," hopefully Sarah wouldn't at least push the brunette at his brink of indignation. "Anyone could be the target, even yourself. Please, listen to me and allow me to investigate."

"I'm not stopping you," each answer is equipped at Sarah's lips matter-of-factly, "Sadly, I'm not at liberty to allow anyone in without proper identification."

"How can you not know that Mr. Smith hasn't issued an ID card for me?" Ryan exclaims in frustration. "Haven't you done your research? A little bit of homework? Ethan Smith has very recently hired me as his assistant."

"Do you have any form of identification?" Sarah appraises Ryan, without her contemptuous emerald irises, "Otherwise, our entry and exit policies are the same."

"Damn it!"

"Now, please leave!" The woman builds her voice, "Don't make me have to report it to the CEO!"

"Don't even think about it! Please!" Ryan vigorously protests. He can not involve his boss in this mess for so many reasons— ringing a false alarm without evidence in Ethan's mind will not do any sort of good to anyone. "I beg you, don't involve him!"

"Forgive me. But I can't just tire myself out with people like you throughout the day. So,I think it's necessary," reaching for her cellphone, Sarah brutally declares. "I'm giving you one last warning. What's your excuse exactly? If you truly are the CEO's assistant, show me your ID proof. Ethan Smith has never forgotten to issue ID cards to his employees. Even the janitors have one.

So, either you show me what I'm asking for, until then I would like not to believe you're Ethan Smith's Personal Assistant."

"And what if he really is my assistant, Sarah?"