Second impression

I scowl at my reflection in frustration, wishing that my mirror never shows up the nasty pimple in the centre of my forehead, or the dullness of my damn hair. It is a rat's nest this morning, even though I wanted to look my best for Mr Cross today. But my appearance says otherwise. With one last attempt to control the tangled mess on top of my head, I run my brush through it but soon give up and place it in a messy up do.

I left home with a newfound purpose; I am going to whoo Mr Cross. That man was finer than wine, and I intend to make him mine. He is too good to pass up.

I spent most of my night after coming home, trying to read up all that I could on the famous Leo Cross, sadly he is like a ghost. The internet, not even Wikipedia, has any information on him. And despite the beautiful man being the face of his own company, there aren't much pictures of him anywhere. 

Despite not knowing anything about him, I am still willing to win him over. And so far, if I can get him his coffee, then that's a start.

I left out a breath to calm myself before leaving my apartment. I put that extra pep in my step as I make my way down the stairs and outside to get a taxi. Making sure to stop at the coffee shop that is close to work.

''Three shots of expresso, two sugar.'' I order.

The girl at the counter gives me a look but holds no judgment.

It is half past 7 when I step inside the building, thinking that the earlier, the better. But the smile on my face fades after being stopped by one of the many blondes that works here.

''I'm sorry, but who are you?'' She ask.

''Angela Smith, Mr Cross' new assistant.'' I flash my security pass that has the words' assistant written in bold.

''Oh, yes.'' She smiles, giving me a once over.

Even though she comes off as rude, I still can't help but admire her style. She is channelling her inner Kate Middleton in a blue button up dress that has long sleeve and thick shoulder pads.

I walk over to the elevators with the bright smile once again on my face. When the doors open, I step out onto what just might be the loneliest floor in any office building. Surprisingly, the lights are already on and it makes me worry that someone who is not allowed is up here.

I am once again surprised to see Mr Cross in his office and on the phone, with the large ceiling to floor windows, revealing the Nox sports centre.

I push the door open, making sure to swing my hips as I walk over to his desk. He glance up at me and once again that lopsided smile plays on his lips.

''You are early,'' He states.

''That's the only way to be productive,'' I respond.

''I like that.'' He smiles.

I proceed to place his coffee on the desk, to the left like previously instructed, but Mr Cross reaches out, taking the coffee from my hand and our fingers brush against each other.

A shiver runs through me and I immediately pull my hand back, because never have I experience a feeling like that before.

''Thanks.'' Mr Cross said, holding up the coffee in a dismissive kind of way.

I make my way to my office, which is gladly across from my soon to be man's office. To get busy with the contract for Reid Jones and come up with a new marketing strategy.

Before I could send off the email, Mr Cross summons me to his office, but before I can go there, I see him crossing over to mine.

"We have a problem,'' Mr Cross announce after busting in my office.

I jump up, ready to fight anyone that might have upset him, but when he turns on the tv so I can see what the problem is.

‘Not even 24 hours after being at what is said to be the biggest draft pick in history, Reid blows 3 million dollars, which he reportedly doesn't have. Also, he is locked up in jail for vandalising a jewellery story. What does this say about his future?’

''Oh no,'' I said, placing my hands to my mouth.

"It's fine, you know why. We haven't signed him yet, and we had Que 'Bones' Wilson as a second option,'' Mr Cross said.

I left out a breath, thinking that I would have been fired seeing that I am the one who told him to pick Reid. I glance down at the computer, glad that I hadn't sent off the email.

''So what do you do now?'' I ask.

''This is where you resolve this public relation issue, because it is 'alleged' that he said we signed him to MetroSports. You need to put out a statement that he is not. I don't want him to have any ties to this company.''

''I can't imagine the train wreck he will be later down and the issues his team will have with him,'' I said.

''Exactly.'' Mr Cross said, then turns the tv off.

I sit around my desk, crack my knuckles, ready to start my task, when I notice Mr Cross lingering in my office.

"Angela, and please, get yourself some new clothes. This is a Sports agency, you don't have to dress so formal. Buy some nice jeans and skirts,'' He said.

My mouth falls open, because I thought my style was ok but I will switch it up just for him.

By lunch time, and just as I am about to leave the office, Mr Cross comes walking in.

''We have a lunch date,'' He said.

''A date?'' I subconsciously bite my lip.

''Yes, with Mr Bell. He is the manager of a freelance football player, but is now looking for someone to sign his athlete.''

I nod, feeling slightly disappointed that it is actually not that type of date.

Mr Cross left my office and I stand there for a while.

''I'm waiting.'' His voice comes and I rush out behind him.

When we get to Ocean View, someone leads us to our table in a dimly lit private area.

"Would you like to order now?'' The female ask.

''Yes, I am hungry and I am sure that my companion is as well,'' Mr Cross said.

I can see her throwing heart eyes at him and I felt like screaming at her to back off because he is mine.

''I would also like to order for the lady as well,'' He adds.

I open my mouth to protest, but thought against it because I want to show him that I am willing to submit to him and let him take the lead. I take up the menu to see what Mr Cross would order for me and if I would like it.

''For both of us, I would like the House Roll. And for the lady she will start with, the club house salad and-''

"Can you opt out the goat cheese for another kind of cheese please?'' I blurt.

''Don't cut me off again,'' Mr Cross said, his voice scolding and his face impassive.

''As I was saying, the club house salad, and teriyaki salmon with sticky rice for her. While I'll have the white truffle caviar, devilled eggs, and filet mignon with chili spinach. Also, can I get the wine list?''

"Of course, sir, I'll be right back.''

When she walks away, I can see Mr Cross leering at me. His face unreadable and it is making me bothered, but in a good way, which makes me want to ask him if I could go back to his place.

''So, when will our guest be arriving?'' I ask.

There is a ghost of a smile on his lips as he continues to stare at me, once again making me feel bothered. So I move in my seat, trying to adjust one leg over the other and get more comfortable.

"Do I make you nervous?'' He suddenly ask.

''No, not at all.''

''Pity.'' He said, running a finger over his bottom lip.

My eyes follow his action, then our gaze meets.

A thought comes to me at that, 'was this an actual date? And did Mr Cross use meeting with a potential client as a way to get me to agree?'