Responsibilities

With great power comes great responsibility.

So, what if you were given a position, in a company you just started working in, as an assistant to the C.E.O?

You take responsibility, right?

Well, wrong.

You stand there wondering how and why you were given such authority knowing fully well your portfolio isn't fit for such position; I mean my portfolio is good, obviously, but still this is too much responsibility.

“Excuse me, what?” I ask the receptionist for the millionth time.

She smiles warmly at me, “Mr. Gun requested you resumed immediately as his personal assistant.”

I inhale, “and where exactly is Mr. Gun?” I ask as nicely as I possibly could.

“He's out of town now, but he'll be back in a few hours.” She replies.

Okay, I guess this is as far as the conversation goes.

“Well…” I skim through her chest looking for a name tag, I sight it “well miss Susan, I honestly appreciate your kindness, but I submitted my portfolio for sales manager and have zero knowledge of what an assistant does.”

I turn around to leave.

“Mr. Gun gave strong instructions and threatened to relieve me of my job if you don't take this name tag and be in his office now.”

I turn around to stare at her, almost full of anger, but something caught me eyes. Her hands were shaking, and she has a pleading look in her eyes. Did he really threaten her? Over what?

I exhale with frustration. I stretch my hand-over to her and snatch the name tag, immediately regretting my decision.

Furthermore, I can feel heavy eyes on me, people haven't stopped staring at me the moment I stepped into the private lobby.

Is there something I missed?

I get into an elevator and--

“HOLD! HOLD THE ELEVATOR!”

someone yells.

I immediately slap my palm on the hold button and the person slips into the elevator. I stare wide-eyed, my heart almost escaping my whole body.

“I'm sorry, did that startle you?”

I clear my throat about to scream at this person's face before I actually see their face, or rather his face.

Holy shit!

“Were you really that startled?” He chuckles.

“Well I apologize, I took the wrong route, it's funny how you obey G****e map but yet, it always finds a way to fuck you up.” He mumbles.

“Or maybe I was the one who missed my way?” He questions himself.

I just stand there staring at his perfectly structured face, his well ironed suit, his silky hair, his hands which are griping his laptop bag firmly. I wonder what else it could grip--

“Oh I, I'm fine, a little startled but it's fine.” I reassure him.

“Oh good, didn't want to make a bad impression on my first day” he stretches his hands towards me, “I'm Sebastian.” He grins.

I shudder.

“I'm horny-- I mean Debra! Debra, Debra Santiago. I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that.” I nervously chuckle and shake his hands hastily.

The elevator dings and comes to a halt, “this is my stop” he steps off

“And honestly, that makes two of us.” He whispers before the elevator door closes, and he disappears out of my sight.

Oh God, what did I just say? Why would I do that?! Why would I say that! And to make matters worse, he works in the same company as I do.

But what did he mean by 'that makes two of us?' did he really mean that? Maybe he misheard and thought I meant hungry. That would be better, it would take the embarrassment away.

The elevator dings, and it's now my turn to step out. That feeling of déjà vu dances in the air while I make my way to the office of the so called C.E.O aka murderer and gangster.

What exactly is he expecting me to do as an assistant? Wipe his fucking mouth after a meal? Or change his diapers? I bet he uses diapers because why would he behave so childish most of the time?

I stand In front of his large office doors wishing I didn't have to do this.

“This is fucking ridiculous.” I complain.

“In my office, you must watch your language.”

Thick hands overshadow mine and push the door open.

I watch as Frederick walk past me into his office, hanging his coat and making his way to the desk.

“I thought you were on a business trip?”

He ignores me, pouring himself a drink and wolfing it down immediately.

“Secondly, you don't ask me stupid questions, no matter how eager you are to know.”

I scoff.

"Some things are better left unsaid, Santiago” he warns

“Especially matters outside your working range.” He adds.

“Speaking of working range, why in the world was I given a personal assistant? That wasn't what I submitted my portfolio for.”

“You were given that job because I granted that, I want to be able to keep my eyes on you at all times.”

“I told you already, I'm not telling anyone! For fuck's sake!” I groan.

“Watch your language, Santiago. You wouldn't want to be sanctioned on your first day, would you?” He takes a sip from his drink.

“I just need to understand what exactly I'm to do.” I plead.

His eyes hover over my body for a few seconds before he walks over to his briefcase and retrieves a file from it.

He points towards a chair, offering me a sit, I take it.

He places the file on the table between us.

“This” he nods towards the file “is an NDS”

“A what?” I ask, utterly confused.

He sighs. “An NDS is a non-disclosure agreement--”

“If it's a non-disclosure agreement, it's supposed to be an NDA!”

“This NDS” he continues, ignoring me

“Contains everything you need to know about your working range inside and also outside the company.”

“Outside?”

“You'll be working for me, outside this company.” He explains, but I still don't get it.

He rolls his eyes.

Why do I find that attractive anytime he does it?

“You'll be working for Animus. My association.”

“Your mafia gang?! No way in fucking hell. You wanted me out of your neck the night we met, so why the fuck would I work for your gang.”

“First of all, we're not a gang but an association--”

“Same thing” I cut him off.

“And secondly” he rises from his sit “you do not, on any circumstance, raise your voice at me, you speak when spoken to and obey when instructed. Understood?”

I don't respond.

“Are we fucking understood, Santiago?” He spits, his voice laced with so much authority it'll make a dog quiver in fear.

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good” he peels open the file and hands me a copy. “Read through everything or don't, I don't see any need for you to. It has been signed and agreed upon.”

“On whose permission?” I ask, irritated.

He stares at me, a glint of surprise flashes through his face before it vanishes, and his face goes back to its normal intimidating persona.

“On my permission and my permission alone. You work under me not with me, it's not a partnership agreement. I call the shots, you nod.”

What in the world? I stand on my feet, anger boiling from the depths of my stomach making me irk, who does he think he is to push me around like this, sure I made the decision to be here right now, but that isn't enough reason for him to discriminate me like this.

“I'm not a beggar who doesn't have a choice, I have rights and I deserve to be included from the very beginning--”

“You should be grateful you're not dead and wasted on the streets because that's what would have happened to you the moment I saw you last night.” He counters.

“I don't fucking care anymore--”

“Then I'll go after your close friends” he cuts me off, “and then your family members and every other person you've ever interacted with. It's not a threat, it's a warning.”

“Now. Sit.” He orders.

I hesitate at first, but reluctantly take my sit.

“Are you glancing through the NDS?” he questions, pretending to care about my opinion.

“It's fine. You give me the details.”

He pours himself another drink, “the bottom line? This.” he points between the both of us “and that” he points outside the window, indicating his 'association' “isn't to be mentioned to anyone else, to everyone in this company you're my assistant. To everyone in Animus, you're a new recruit.”

“Isn't that what I am already?” I mumble.

He eyes me, irritation in his eyes. “9pm tonight, at the club we first met.”

“Huh? Excuse me?”

"Your first job. You Work immediately for the association too. I'll see you tonight.” He states.

“No, no, no” I chuckle," I have an exam coming up in a few months, my finals. I need to study.” I explain.

“I can't miss a single night.”

“Learn to schedule yourself, Santiago, that's none of my business. That's your personal issue.”

I ignore his stupidity and sass.

“I'm I expected to dress on all black or whatever your gang-- I mean association wears?”

“Just wear whatever, I'll take care of your appearance.”

I nod.

"I'm I to leave now or--”

“Get out.” He dismisses me.

“Okay, okay.” I gather the remaining files on the desk and stand to my feet.

While I make my way to the door, the question that I've been meaning to ask slips out of my mouth before I could control myself.

“And you promise not to touch my family?” I ask, almost pleading even.

Without moving an inch or giving me a single side glance he responds, “I don't make promises Santiago. You behave properly you survive, you don't, I correct your mistakes however way I want.”

I walk out of the office without hesitation, feeling my skin crawl.

And here I was thinking he would be a role model.

~Our story begins now~