CHAPTER 1: Bad Omen

CHAPTER 1: Bad Omen

I heard bad hair days were a bad omen. 

My girl friend Freda said that, and she’s a hairstylist, so that may explain why she’s made that statement. But since almost every day of my existence has been a ‘bad hair day’ (more like bad hair years. Except maybe when Freda finally convinced me to at least get my hair rebonded to avoid the usual messy dry-curls I was having), yet I was still able to keep my life together (barely), I might say that this day is just another day of my usual bad hair day mornings.

“Ow!” I groaned as I combed my hair in place. I looked at my watch and my eyes immediately widened when I saw it was just a minute before the boss came. 

“Rachel!” I called one of my colleagues, seeing her walking by the hallway almost in a rush. Before I could even ask for her report, she said. 

“He’s here! He’s in the elevator!” She whisper-shouted that and ran to her office. I chuckled. Before she got out of the place, she once again did that whisper-shout thing, “I promise I’ll give you the report before lunch!”

“Tell that to the boss, Rach!” She groaned with my reply. She knows the boss does not like late reports, or anything late at that matter. And as his little secretary, I am here as the messenger between his wrath and the poor employees that have to deal with it.

“I don’t know how you endure him, Lia. You’re a monster.” I heard her still groaning voice as she faded in the distance. I smoothed my hair down again, making sure the pins were secured as I spoke. 

“Yeah, with this hair, I surely am.” I mumbled to myself, knowing she wouldn’t hear anymore. I continued straightening the strands of my hair, until I heard the elevator open.

“Lia,” I immediately stood up straight when I heard that rich, deep and very familiar voice. If I didn’t know who the owner of that velvety voice was, I’d probably drool over it. But knowing the man, drooling wasn’t an option. Crying was one. 

Over the years of knowing him, I realized that the impact of his voice is exactly what I want in an alarm clock. You’d totally get up and get out of the bed just to make it shut up.

“Good morning, Mr. Sanford.” I plastered the most professional smile I could pull on my face, making sure I looked vibrant as the morning sun. The boss just stared at me with an emotionless face. 

I didn’t mind the look on his face and took the still hot cup of coffee on my table and glanced at my watch. 

As usual, the boss is still right on the dot.

“Here’s your coffee, Sir.” Mr. Sanford, although just in his late twenties, looked as serious as any veteran in business. Stern, cold, formal, and every other adjective that could possibly describe a stone. 

Although, some would fancy calling him a Greek statue. Well, the thing is still made of stone. So… anyway.

“Thank you,” I widened my smile as he spoke, basically grinning at him, when he took the coffee. I saw how his eyes briefly flashed in curiosity with my smile, but it immediately went away. 

As usual, he covers every emotion in his face with that ‘business-as-usual’ face. I shrugged.

“Run me through every schedule I have today.” I nodded. I took my tablet, ready for the task. Well, I’ve done this for the last 5 years of my life.

Mr. Troy Sanford, in his gloriously crisp black suit that I knew very well since I was the one who bought it with his other personal assistant, Bran, walked his way to his wide office. I followed through as fast as I could with his big steps. Geez, the man had long legs with his 6 foot 2 inches height.

The boss sat on his swivel chair and immediately took one of the folders piled neatly on his desk. In fact, everything in his office is very neat and organized. 

Through the years, I have learned to be organized, but Sir Troy is on another level of organization and clean. Sanford Properties Inc. wouldn’t be as big and successful if he wasn't an OC anyway.

“Begin,” Sir Troy said without even glancing at me. I still smiled widely and started reading his schedule from my tablet.

“You will have a meeting with the investors at 9 to 9:30 AM, Sir. Next would be with the team of contractors for the on-going projects on the expansion of S Malls at 9:45 to 10:25. Next meeting will be about the Christmas event with the other executives in the boardroom at 11 AM… “ blah blah blah. I ran through his schedule like it was my monologue for another 5 minutes, until I finished. 

“That would be all for today, Sir—and, oh!” I said, almost forgetting about the newly added schedule for today’s already jam-packed set. 

“The lunch meeting with Mr. Peterson and his daughter were scheduled today, so I inserted it during your lunch time, Sir.” 

Mr. Troy Sanford finally looked up at me, and I was met with his intense, bright brown eyes that perfectly matched that dark blonde hair he has. If only I hadn’t worked for this man for most of my professional life, and I haven’t gotten an immunization with his looks, I swear I could have passed out or ran out of this room this instant. 

His eyes look like it could glow sometimes. Most especially if he gets real angry. Like a wolf. Woof! Woof!— Alright, stop.

But I plastered the biggest smile I could give, like I usually do. It definitely works like a charm. I could make myself believe there’s nothing scary about being with the scariest person to be working with in the business, and a secretary at that! There’s nothing scary, really. 

Fake it ‘till you make it!

And I’d like to set a mood in this gloomy office. Nothing is worse than an office that couldn’t pass the vibe check.

I continued on with my report with a smile, putting my tablet down on my side. “I will be waiting here in the office for your scheduled interview with the media regarding your cover…“

“Come with me.”

“…magazine—w-what? I will?” I stared up at him. Sir Troy’s eyes were already on the paper he was holding after he spoke. But he looked up at me again. And with that no-sh*t-Sherlock face of his, he repeated.

“You are coming with me.” I started fidgeting as he continued silently on his reading after saying that, as if he wasn’t reading about major problems he had to deal with a multi-billion dollar company, and as if he just didn’t tell me I was going to what basically was a ‘meet the parents’ type of thing with his girlfriend. What the!

“Uhmm, but Sir…” I started, but he continued reading the sales report from last month. I tapped on my tablet that I was now cradling with my other hand. “That might be… a little private. Would bringing your secretary be fine? Wouldn't Miss Annika mind?”

Sir Troy finally took his eyes from those papers. I know it must be hard, since that would be his own version of love letters. But he has to hear me out on this!

Miss Annika Peterson has been his girlfriend—fling, or whatever they are—for months now. She has become the longest reigning lady of the Sanford empire in four months. Yup. Four months, and that’s a record! In my five—almost six years of working with the boss, I’ve never given a bouquet of flowers twice for a single girl. Annika Peterson was the first. And Sir Troy might have dated some celebrities here and there, but Miss Annika is probably the most important figure he has ever dated.

She’s the daughter of Mr. Samuel Peterson, the owner of the biggest real estate business in the country. And having that connection with him would be very beneficial for Sanford Properties Inc. It could extend the company further—which is what the company’s goal has always been. 

So, having Miss Annika as his official girlfriend—as awful as it might sound—is one way of getting what exactly he wants for his company. And so I don’t understand why he has to ruin it by making me come with him!

“Do you not want to come with me, Lia?” Mr. Troy Sanford leaned on his swivel chair and put both his hands down on the table as he intensely stared me down. I swallowed.

Well, I never said I was totally immune to his gorgeous face despite his stone cold gazes, so I immediately shook my head, even when I had other plans for lunch today. 

“N-No, Sir—I mean, yes! Of course I want to come with you.” I enthusiastically said, compensating over my first statement. Sir Troy raised an eyebrow, sensing my lie and reluctance. I bit my tongue.

“You are coming with me to this meeting, Lia,” he said with finality. I sighed.

Dang. I guess I have to reschedule my lunch date with Freda and her dogs today. And we had this scheduled for a long time. Ugh.

I guess bad hair days are truly a bad omen.