Chapter 2: His Client

Sitting on the toilet, I can’t help but entertain my troubled mind because of what I saw yesterday.

I had to tell a little white lie to Tamara when we ran into each other in the lobby after flying fifteen floors in a hurry. Thank goodness for her—she distracted me with food and… well, she had to ask about this and that stuff.

But after last night, I just can’t bring myself to be productive. Not until the clock basically screamed at me to get my ass up.

“He’s a manwhore,” I muttered out of the blue, shaking my head. “And the woman he was with? She’s married. They’re having an affair!”

Is that something I should tell Tamara? I’m pretty sure if that news reached his parents, his inheritance—and all the money he’s swimming in—would be gone. Kaput!

“So, what if he faces his worst?” I questioned myself, trying to rationalize it. “Auntie Tamara put me there to keep an eye on him, after all.”

The logical, no-nonsense side of my brain raised its hand, but then my cowardly side shoved it aside and joined the debate.

“But what if he gets mad and makes my life a living hell?” I groaned, clutching my head as it started to feel like it was splitting in two. “He can have all the women in the world, just not the married ones!” I exclaimed.

I’m stressing myself out over something that’s not even my problem.

“From what Auntie Tamara said, Mr. and Mrs. Miles are good people. They’re influential in a good way. So why did they end up with Johnny as their son?”

Maybe they were cursed? No, there's no such thing. Johnny’s just a spoiled brat who grew up with a massive ego, gigantic balls, and pride as tall as a skyscraper.

Compared to the little rascal I knew as a kid, he’s a thousand times worse now. Exactly how I imagined he’d turn out to be—a walking, flirting headache.

“And his mouth is as filthy as his mind.”

I feel naked and violated whenever his eyes are on me. Thank God he doesn’t spend much time in the office. But what am I supposed to expect today?

“Whatever it is, I’m not backing down,” I declared, doing a pep talk. “I will be the boss of him. If he gets into trouble, that’s his problem—not mine. And good riddance.”

Johnny better watch where his eyes land today—or I swear, I’ll fork them out of their sockets.

“Yeah, that’s what I’ll do,” I grumbled, sighing as I finished depositing everything I ate last night. But just as I turned to clean myself, I realized something horrifying.

I was out of tissue.

“Darn it.”

.

With less than a minute before I’d officially be late and get a black mark on my record, I sprinted towards the building. But the ocean of people in front of me was too much for me to squeeze through.

“Excuse me! Excuse me!” I muttered, trying to wriggle my way through. “Oof!” I yelped as someone’s shoulder sent me crashing sideways.

Am I even going to survive this crowd?

“Hah!” I gasped when I finally broke free and stepped onto the veranda, gulping in fresh air like I’d just been born. “Oh no, I’m late! I’m late! I’m late!”

Running past the lobby, I made it to the elevators and jabbed the up button like my life depended on it. My heel tapped against the tiled floor as I waited.

When the doors finally dinged open, a flood of people pushed past me, filling the elevator to capacity before I could even step inside.

“Seriously?” I muttered under my breath, stepping to the next elevator. Just as I was about to press the button, someone beat me to it.

And then I caught it—that cologne. That ridiculously familiar manly cologne that made me feel both dizzy and nauseous. The smell of a dandy lady's mam from yesterday.

Oh no. Him.

Now I feel like sneezing.

“Cassandra,” he greeted, addressing me with the wrong name. He's smug. He is because he know he's fine, and it's making me feel both awkward and irritated.

“It’s Cassidy,” I corrected silently in my head.

“Looking nice today,” he chuckled, almost sneering as his eyes did a slow, deliberate scan of me.

“Good morning, sir,” I replied stiffly, ignoring his A-hole vibe.

I clung to the promise I’d made to myself earlier on the porcelain throne: Stay cool. Stay unaffected. Forget last night’s trauma.

But when I turned to face the elevator doors, I nearly screamed in horror.

My reflection stared back at me, hair sticking out in all directions like I’d just been electrocuted.

My hands flew to my already dried hair and brushed it with my fingers.

I took a quick shower earlier, but the clock ran faster this morning. I had no time to blow dry my hair, and now I look like a corpse who just got out of its coffin.

That was fine, though. At least I knew the theme of his place—all black get-up. But I couldn't just survive with one plain color scheme, so I decided to wear a "colorful black" shirt and pencil skirt, but my heels were bright orange, matching my feathery earrings and the color of my lips.

"Running a little late, are we?" He teased, standing right next to me.

Frankly, he was trying to invade my personal space and probably committing physical injury by melting me with his kind of viscous stare.

He must be wondering if I was the embodiment of a rotting orange from a tree.

"Yes, I'm sorry, sir. I ran into a little problem," I excused, referring to the toilet paper. "But it won't happen again, I promise." I risked glancing at him and immediately regretted it—his eyes were still glued on me.

As soon as the doors opened, I went inside without waiting for him.

If possible, I would’ve liked to keep five meters away from him, but the manwhore kept closing in until he was an inch away.

"As it should be. I'd hate to deduct your salary, Cassandra. Especially since Tamara was rooting for you," he carelessly uttered, taking up the whole corner of the lift behind me.

"My name is Cassidy, sir. Not Cassandra," I corrected him, offering a hesitant, tight smile while squinting at his blurred reflection on the wall.

"I heard from Tamara that you were a straight-A student. Why take this job? I bet you're even overqualified," he wondered, and I knew exactly what he was doing. I could smell his dislike towards me.

He's looking for someone he could easily take a peek at in a tight mini dress, and jiggly boobs for a secretary. One that would open their legs widely for him—and, of course, someone with a pretty face and flawless skin. Not someone like me, who's weirder than a typical nerd.

"I'm not the type to judge people, but were you paid to take this job?" he asked, and he hit the bullseye.

My brain had a mini seizure before I cleared myself awake. "Auntie Tamara is like family to me, and she was the reason I got into college. It's called 'debt of the heart'. Plus, this job offer she gave me is a stepping stone for me." I faced him with deadpan eyes. "Not everyone gets blinded by flashy bills, sir."

His lips turned upside down while his thick eyebrows rose, looking either amused or not at all.

"I'm just here to explore an experience," I added, and then I saw a flash of his cocky smile that eventually turned into a wide grin.

"And what kind of experience do you want to explore, Cassandra? If it's aiming for something in my column, then I'd be glad to help," he offered, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

I couldn't control my facial expression, and I knew he was looking at the horror on my face.

"I mean, I'm great at making proposals," he thrust, sliding himself closer to me. "I'm good at talking business. But this mouth's got lots of talent other than talking. Want to know more?" He pointed at his luscious pinkish lips and bit them seductively.

"Err..." I almost shivered, my mind blank and searching for a word to blurt out, but none came until the elevator dinged open to the right floor.

"Mr. Miles!" Miss T's squeaky voice saved me from being eaten alive by his uncontrollable bad behavior. "Good morning, sir!"

"Morning," he greeted back, beaming widely, showing off his perfect rows of white teeth. "You look just lovelier day by day, T."

"Oh," she giggled, her face flushed and her head almost sunk to her shoulders.

Before I could witness another traumatizing event, I quickly stepped out of the elevator and left them to flirt for the rest of the morning. I'd had enough of what I saw yesterday, and I definitely didn’t want to see Miss T doing the cha-cha with him.

Sighing, I was about to let my butt kiss my chair when Johnny showed up, questioning what I thought I was doing.

"Work, sir?"

"Of course, but our work is at my father's building, not here." He pointed to his spot before sitting his left butt cheek on my desk. "And you're 'coming'... with me."

His choice of words was so weird, or was it just me? "But, sir, I'm your secretary, not your personal assistant. I can't leave this desk."

"Well, from now on, you are my personal assistant. I'll raise your salary according to your performance."

Is that part of the plan? Or is he improvising because he's getting a hunch that he's being played?

"Would you mind getting that blue folder from my desk?" He smiled at me sweetly. "I've got to make a call."

Quickly obeying, I went inside his office but stopped and stared at his desk. Just by looking at it, it reminded me of the skin-crawling live p**n show I accidentally saw.

"Get a grip, Cassidy," I scolded myself and approached his desk.

I picked up the only blue folder on it, but as I lifted it, I almost let out a shriek when my finger hooked something.

My eyes widened when I realized what I was holding.

A thong!

"Oops..." Johnny uttered, sashaying his way inside his office and snatched the little underwear from my hand, pocketing it. "My... client must have left it there."

He laughed like it was the funniest thing for him.

"Chopper's waiting. Come on," he invited, leading the way outside his office. But my feet were nailed to the floor. "Come on, Miss Secretary, let's go. Or do you want to be my next client?" He teased, throwing me his craziest smirk, and that jolted me from freezing on my spot.

There's no way I'm going to let him jackhammer me on his table like a cheap woman. Never!