"Quit staring at his picture." my best friend says, her red hair bouncing on her shoulders as she walks from the kitchen, a plate of spaghetti balanced on each arm.

I groan, hitting my head repeatedly on my palm.

"Don't hit your head on the table or your palm." she adds, stretching her hand to give me a plate of the spaghetti.

"Thanks." I murmur, collecting it.

"Sloane, what are the odds?"

"What odds?" she gives me a quizzical look.

"The odds that Xavier Steele is going to fire me as soon as he goes through the employee database."

"Why don't you eat first?"

"Aaa-rggh!. I can't stomach anything right now."

"You need strength to be able to fight whatever is coming for you." Sloane says.

My heart drops, "What's coming for me..". I repeat, my eyes widening in fear of the unknown.

"Yeah, my fortune teller says something is coming your way soon." she smirks.

"Sloane!. Don't scare me like that." I jump up, rushing over to her to tickle her.

"S--Sto-- stop. My --- fo-- foo--- fo-- food!" she wheezes out laughing.

Soon, I join her laughing, both of us doubling over in the middle of my living room.

"I don't know who's crazier; you or your fortune teller" I say to her.

"I think the girl who exchanged words with a billionaire on the street of New York with a beggar as an audience and expecting the beggar to support her like a lawyer is the crazy one." she chuckles, going back to the sofa.

I facepalm, "Don't remind me. I'm dead."

"How did you not even recognise that that was Xavier Steele?!"

"How was I supposed to know?! plus, I told you about it as well and you didn't know."

"You told me he was painfully handsome. So many people can be." Sloane quirks her eyebrows at me.

"And I said he also has green eyes." I retort.

"Do you know how many people has green eyes?" Sloane looks at me, her mouth half full with eyebrows raised.

"Apparently less than 4% of the population in the world. Less than that in New York and you couldn't identify him from my story." I reply, shaking my head at her.

"You're crazy. That's what you are." Sloane turns her attention back to her plate.

I shrug, "If you couldn't identify Xavier Steele from my story, then why do you assume I'd be able to identify him?"

"Because you saw him!" Sloane raises her hand in an exasperated fashion.

"For someone who knows nothing about him, there's no way I'll be able to recognize him and for you who knows all about him, why couldn't you identify the villain of my story?"

"Fine. You've made your point."

"Good, cos' I only know celebrities." I retort.

"So, what will you do now?" Sloane looks at me.

"I don't know!" I cry out.

"There's one thing though." Sloane begins.

"What?"

"How many people are working at your company?"

"Over one hundred."

"Exactly. If he's looking through the employee database, he'll most likely skim through it and not look at it like a chef tearing through layers of onions." Sloane clicks her fingers.

My eyes widen, "True! Sophie said that he mentioned his goal is to enter the Car industry, so he'll focus his remaining time there. Oh. Thank you, thank you, thank you." I say to Sloane.

She winks at me, "Will you show the spaghetti some love now?. Remember you still need strength for what's ahead."

I stick out my tongue in a playful manner, "I'm not a consumer of the heebie-jeebies of your fortune teller. Everything is just business and she's scamming you to keep a roof over her head."

"I'll remind you when you eat your words later." Sloane retorts sticking her own tongue out at me.

"You wish." I laugh.

***************

It is a week after my encounter with Coffee bastard.

No, scratch that.

It's been a week since I met Xavier Steele and like Sloane predicted, things have been quiet at work.

Even my hidden fear of random firing and craziness that occurs in the first month of company acquisition seems uncalled for.

Sophie must have been right about Xavier Steele.

A man who conquers to monopolize.

My hand flies over the email I'm composing, my mind elsewhere.

"Hazel!. My office now please!" Dave yells, standing in the door space of his office.

Everywhere goes quiet immediately.

There's only one reason Dave comes out to call someone in personally and not do it with the intercom in his office.

I am in trouble.

My hand hovers over the email I'm replying to and my wrist shakes involuntarily.

Even Sophie keeps her tongue tied faking a newly found deep attention to work and separation from gossip.

I feel blood drain from my cheeks, saliva drying up in my mouth,"coming." I manage to reply quietly.

Dave nods, "Back to work everybody." he says and walks back into his office closing the door firmly behind him.

Immediately, Sophie turns to me, "Should I help you pack your things? I bet you will be fired in less than five minutes."

I give her a fake sweet smile, "Thank you for your unsolicited concern Sophie but I will manage. You should look out for yourself seeing as you are one foot out of the door."

"You seem to have both feet out the door." Sophie chuckles.

I stand, my eye meeting with Raven Mallory's.

She smirks and mouths, 'bye' to me.

Fear, I'm sure is palpable on my face. Raven may be a bitch, but she knows what she's saying.

She has years of experience working with Dave.

She knows him better than I do.

I swallow hard and knock on the door.

Tap. Tap.

"Hello Dave." I say, closing the door firmly behind me.

Dave stares at me, his fingers clasped in a villain fashion from behind his chair.

I feel like I'm in front of Darth Vader.

" I have no idea why I was called in." I say, half-hoping he does not hear the shake in my voice.

"Hazel" Dave scoffs.

This is not good.

Dave never scoffs.

Well, maybe not never never, but I've never heard him scoff.

What did I do?

What's going on?

I wring my fingers behind me frustrated, "Yes?" my stable voice betraying the way I feel.

"I'd understand if you were called because of the S.E.A.M project, but there's no information and I'm not in the position to ask apparently." He scoffs again.

A frown takes over my face, "What's going on?"

"I was hoping you would shine some light on that Miss Dawson."

"How would I know what's going on if you don't tell me?" I ask.

My hands wouldn't stop shaking, no matter how many times I wrung them, so I press them to my sides firmly.

"You are required to move to the top floor tomorrow to begin work, Hazel." Dave says.

My eyes widen, my hands going slack by my side, "The executive floor level?"

"Higher, Hazel." Dave eyes me.

"I don't understand."

"The new CEO requested you to resume work at his floor tomorrow."

"Wh--- what --- the -- fu--"

Dave looks at me in a weird fashion, "Whatever you did to earn that, it worked. Congratulations."

I pause for a minute, my brain reeling from the new information.

"I'm going to be working directly with Xavier Steele?!"

Remind me to curse Sloane's fortuneteller because that woman probably cursed me when she said the rubbish she said!

Because! If not for her, would I be standing in front of these large oak double doors contemplating if I should kneel and beg Xavier Steele or threaten with suicide?

Of course, it has nothing to do with that I insulted my billionaire boss and called him crazy to his face in the presence of an audience.

Aaaargghhh!

I straighten the non-existent creases on my grey- colored sleeveless dress, and knock.

"Good morning sir. Hazel Dawson at your service." I say cringing at how my voice sounds.

"Is the colour of your dress a depiction of your mood when working Miss Dawson?"

Goodness! That rich velvety but cold voice. You'll agree with me if you hear it as well.

"Not at all sir." I reply staring at his tousled hair.

Who has a tousled hair early in the morning? My billionaire boss, that's who.

"Your desk is the empty one outside. I'll call you through the intercom if I need you."

"Is that all sir?" I ask bewildered.

"Were you expecting something else?"

"Not at all sir."

'Except maybe that you lift up your head if you want to address me?' I add inwardly.

************

I think Xavier Steele is a ticking bomb.

I've been coming to the office as his new secretary since Tuesday and he hasn't given me any bit of work. His emails, appointments, dislikes or likes, I have no idea about.

I have asked, trust me, I'm not a lazy ass.

Since he's seen my face, I'm sitting on edge waiting for him to talk about it.

The elephant in the room.

It's terrible trust me. I'm walking around with fear covering my tippy toes if he recognizes me and when he does, if he'll fire me.

I'm supposed to be happy right? A pay bump from 50,000$ to 108,000$ base salary is nice right?.

I don't even have any work to do that might waste the day away, so I'm here playing Call of Duty (COD), my back slouched against this beautiful ergonomic chair.

My thumbs fly across the screen, my eyes dutifully locked on the last enemy soldier in the match .... just a little bit of stealth with the right positioned headshot ---

Bang!

A stack of papers lands on my desk like a brick hitting concrete. My hands flop causing my phone to fall to the floor.

Shit.

"Digitize this." Mr. Coffee bastard barks at me.

"By this afternoon, I want you to memorize the faces of everyone here. They have appointments this afternoon." he tosses a fairly light bunch of papers onto the table.

My gaze flickers to him, "I could have memorized it if I was the one who set the appointments, you know? Like doing my job properly."

"Here I was thinking giving you time to familiarize yourself with the job will make me seem like someone with common sense." he shrugs at me dismissively.

"What I mean to say is that having to learn all these faces by noon is a tough feat." I press my lips into a thin line.

"Seems to me that it's easier than having your precious coffee spilt, lady."

I stare at his retreating back for a moment bothered that ---

Wait ---

He remembered?

Fuck!

But he's been acting like he doesn't!

Shit!

I grab my phone off the floor inspecting it for cracks first - don't ask me why, priorities or maybe I was trying to build my courage to destroy my remaining life in corporate America - and hurry after him.

I'll burst into his office and tell him why he shouldn't fire someone like me, or even worse, make my life miserable and hope he doesn't.

I push the door open with the flourish of a movie lawyer defending an innocent client with several charges racked up against him.

And like several times before, hope decides to fail me again.

The tip of my shoe snags on the edge of the corner rug, pushing my body forward.

Next thing I know, I'm sprawled out on the cold floor, my mouth kissing the floor cleaner.

What just happened?!

I lay there for a second considering whether to fake death or if terrible work conditions would work if I decide to sue Xavier Steele aka. Mr. Coffee bastard.

"So the coffee stain was too lonely? You had to throw yourself on the floor to get a matching marble pattern on your dress?"

If there's a cult where people are gathering to curse their bosses into the most terrible life ever, I want to sign up.

It's been exactly six weeks, four days, three hours and six minutes since I started working as Mr. Coffee bastard's secretary. Two weeks since my embarrassing failure to show and prove my level of importance where I had a tryst with the floor in front of my annoyingly handsome boss.

No. Wait.

Scratch that.

The issue now is, I think I'll resign on my own. Coffee bastard has won the game. I refuse to play any more games with a petty nepo baby.

I'm too broke for that.

And I mean it literally too. From running to the printer to get new documents, to typing, setting appointments and trying to learn Mr. Coffee bastard preferences, my feet grow fresh set of blisters everyday.

"Good afternoon."

I look up to see someone approach me. His confident swagger into the office like he owns it makes me frown.

I frown a little, why didn't the lower level receptionist inform me that someone was coming to see Coffee bastard?

Or even better still, why didn't security stop this handsome-ness since Coffee bastard does not have any more meetings today?. Thankfully.

"How may I help you?" I ask, giving a professional smile.

Also would it be unprofessional to stare with a gaping mouth? Because that's what my brain's telling me to do.

This man's got a drool- worthy face.

While he didn't have the conservative, beastly and arrogant charm that Xavier wore like a second skin, this blue-eyed man was better looking than most models.

"Is Xavier in?" he asks, giving me a disarming smile.

Goodness. Celebrities should be grateful this man is not in the same industry as they are. This type of face would rival most of their's without breaking a sweat.

Ice blue eyes stare at me, his lips tilted upward in an almost-have smile. His blonde hair sits on top of his head in a messy mop, the veins on his hand prominent for all to see.

"Do you intend to see Mr. Steele?" I ask, enforcing a stricter professional tone.

"I was in the neighbourhood, so I decided to say hi to that idiot." he laughs gently, playing with the pencil on my desk.

We agree on the same thing!

That Xavier Steele is an idiot!

I like this man.

Unfortunately, I have to do my job.

Pinching my self on my thigh to prevent myself from smiling, I say, "You have no appointment with Mr. Steele."

"I'll just pop my head in for a few minutes."

I roll my eyes inwardly.

Are all handsome greek gods blockheads?

"Mr. Steele is not in." I say firmly.

"Xavier's not in?"

"Mr. Steele is not in the office. Do you mind coming another time?" I ask, clearing my throat.

"I'll wait for him in his office." he says and walks past my desk towards Xavier's office.

What the--

I race after him, turning around him to stand in front of him with my arms widespread.

"Do not let me call security on you sir!." I say firmly.

Mr. Newcomer scoffs pushing me lightly and opens the large oak door encompassing the entrance to Xavier's office strolling in.

Shit. Coffee bastard is going to have another reason to pour hot coals on me.

I follow hot on handsome but rude man heels, "I'm sorry Mr. Steele. He pushed his way in." I say looking at my boss who stands up from his desk to exchange a handshake with the newcomer.

"Don't sweat it. He's allowed to come in without an appointment." Coffee bastard says.

"Oh."

"This is Alexander Dunn." Coffee bastard quirks an eyebrow at me.

"Of the Dunn Industries?" My eyes widen.

"Guilty as charged, love." Mr. Newcomer winks at me, the corner of his lip in an upward mocking tilt, a light British accent noticeable.

I bristle, standing straight, "Noted Mr. Steele. Any other person that has the same privilege as Mr. Dunn?"

"None."

"Rachel?" Mr. Newcomer tilts his head towards Coffee bastard grinning evidently.

"Just this idiot." Coffee bastard ignores newcomer question.

I guess they must be close, seeing as their pet names for each other seems to be the word 'idiot'.

I can't imagine calling Sloane idiot or her calling me that, honestly. We'd argue and quarrel all night.

"Would you like to have coffee or tea?" I ask.

"Screw it if you don't have alcohol." Mr. Newcomer waves me away.

"It's alright Hazel." My boss says, going to sit opposite his friend on the couch.

"Noted sir." I say and walk out of the office, my ears burning with anger mixed with embarrassment.

Are all nepo babies brought up to insult we bottom ladders?

Or is it only open to those as handsome greek gods?

If there's a cult where people are gathering to curse their bosses into the most terrible life ever, I want to sign up.

It's been exactly six weeks, four days, three hours and six minutes since I started working as Mr. Coffee bastard's secretary. Two weeks since my embarrassing failure to show and prove my level of importance where I had a tryst with the floor in front of my annoyingly handsome boss.

No. Wait.

Scratch that.

The issue now is, I think I'll resign on my own. Coffee bastard has won the game. I refuse to play any more games with a petty nepo baby.

I'm too broke for that.

And I mean it literally too. From running to the printer to get new documents, to typing, setting appointments and trying to learn Mr. Coffee bastard preferences, my feet grow fresh set of blisters everyday.

"Good afternoon."

I look up to see someone approach me. His confident swagger into the office like he owns it makes me frown.

I frown a little, why didn't the lower level receptionist inform me that someone was coming to see Coffee bastard?

Or even better still, why didn't security stop this handsome-ness since Coffee bastard does not have any more meetings today?. Thankfully.

"How may I help you?" I ask, giving a professional smile.

Also would it be unprofessional to stare with a gaping mouth? Because that's what my brain's telling me to do.

This man's got a drool- worthy face.

While he didn't have the conservative, beastly and arrogant charm that Xavier wore like a second skin, this blue-eyed man was better looking than most models.

"Is Xavier in?" he asks, giving me a disarming smile.

Goodness. Celebrities should be grateful this man is not in the same industry as they are. This type of face would rival most of their's without breaking a sweat.

Ice blue eyes stare at me, his lips tilted upward in an almost-have smile. His blonde hair sits on top of his head in a messy mop, the veins on his hand prominent for all to see.

"Do you intend to see Mr. Steele?" I ask, enforcing a stricter professional tone.

"I was in the neighbourhood, so I decided to say hi to that idiot." he laughs gently, playing with the pencil on my desk.

We agree on the same thing!

That Xavier Steele is an idiot!

I like this man.

Unfortunately, I have to do my job.

Pinching my self on my thigh to prevent myself from smiling, I say, "You have no appointment with Mr. Steele."

"I'll just pop my head in for a few minutes."

I roll my eyes inwardly.

Are all handsome greek gods blockheads?

"Mr. Steele is not in." I say firmly.

"Xavier's not in?"

"Mr. Steele is not in the office. Do you mind coming another time?" I ask, clearing my throat.

"I'll wait for him in his office." he says and walks past my desk towards Xavier's office.

What the--

I race after him, turning around him to stand in front of him with my arms widespread.

"Do not let me call security on you sir!." I say firmly.

Mr. Newcomer scoffs pushing me lightly and opens the large oak door encompassing the entrance to Xavier's office strolling in.

Shit. Coffee bastard is going to have another reason to pour hot coals on me.

I follow hot on handsome but rude man heels, "I'm sorry Mr. Steele. He pushed his way in." I say looking at my boss who stands up from his desk to exchange a handshake with the newcomer.

"Don't sweat it. He's allowed to come in without an appointment." Coffee bastard says.

"Oh."

"This is Alexander Dunn." Coffee bastard quirks an eyebrow at me.

"Of the Dunn Industries?" My eyes widen.

"Guilty as charged, love." Mr. Newcomer winks at me, the corner of his lip in an upward mocking tilt, a light British accent noticeable.

I bristle, standing straight, "Noted Mr. Steele. Any other person that has the same privilege as Mr. Dunn?"

"None."

"Rachel?" Mr. Newcomer tilts his head towards Coffee bastard grinning evidently.

"Just this idiot." Coffee bastard ignores newcomer question.

I guess they must be close, seeing as their pet names for each other seems to be the word 'idiot'.

I can't imagine calling Sloane idiot or her calling me that, honestly. We'd argue and quarrel all night.

"Would you like to have coffee or tea?" I ask.

"Screw it if you don't have alcohol." Mr. Newcomer waves me away.

"It's alright Hazel." My boss says, going to sit opposite his friend on the couch.

"Noted sir." I say and walk out of the office, my ears burning with anger mixed with embarrassment.

Are all nepo babies brought up to insult we bottom ladders?

Or is it only open to those as handsome greek gods?