Mr. Austin Cane

Olivia

I rush towards the lady behind the solid marble counter at the entrance of Cane Industries.

It's almost 10 am, I only have 2 minutes left. I'm not going to salvage any remaining kind of good impression if I don't arrive on time. I angle my injured side away from the receptionist, hoping she doesn't notice the dirt marks and blood on my outfit, and throw me out of the building before I reach my interviewer. 

I’m not exactly sure how many wounds I have at this point. Better to just hide my whole body under the marble counter. 

Placing the phone down, she mutters "What?" in my general direction. Not looking at my face but lips turned up in a sneer upon my disgruntled appearance.

"I have an interview with Mr. Austin?" I almost didn't want to disturb her. 

"10th floor." She spits out, still not looking at me. 

I lift my left ankle, it's still tender. It might be sprained. I scurry towards the area of the lifts.

Entering, I tuck my messenger bag on my side. Wipe my sweaty palms on my lucky pants.

It's okay, Olivia. It's going to be alright. Forget your injuries. Just smile. Maybe this Mr. Austin is nice.

The extravagant-looking and definitely intimidating hallway greets me. I don’t have time to inspect the numerous paintings lined up. I zip through them. My stomach churns with anxiety. 

I have a minute until my interview. I have a bad feeling about this. 

Taking a deep breath, one two three. I knock on Mr. Austin's door. There's no answer. I knock again, but there's still no answer. Oh no, am I too late?

Well, there’s no harm in trying. If the door’s closed then I missed my chance. Maybe the scary receptionist would know what to do with me. 

I still check the door. I turn the knob and the ornate door opens. 

What I didn’t expect is the back of the most intimidating leather chair I've ever seen. That chair alone must be worth three of my bikes. 

I can barely make out the top of a man's dark hair peeking through the chair. He's on the phone. He didn’t notice me, or he chose to ignore me. 

"I see. So you failed to close the deal?" That voice. It seems familiar. I guess he’s speaking to a subordinate with an eerie tone and that’s what bothers me.

"Hm.." A pause. "How many chances has this been?" Another pause.

My interviewer turns around at the same time that it dawns on me - I realize who that voice belongs to.

He locks eyes with me while he casually says to who I assume is an employee, "Then you're fired. Send Human Resources your resignation letter by the end of the day." then proceeds to stare at me once more.

It's him. It's Mr. Attractive Asshole. 

I scrunch up my eyes and wipe on them just to ensure I'm not hallucinating. I gingerly sit down on the chair in front of his desk. Not sure if it's my ankle or all the remaining strength just left my body.

He hangs up the phone on the person he just fired. The person he just nonchalantly told that they no longer have a livelihood. He doesn't even wait for the employee's response regarding his sudden unemployment. 

What a cruel cruel man.

"Hm.." Mr. Cane narrows his eyes at me. He takes a seat and stares me down.

Am I hyperventilating? Is this real? Oh my fuckin god. This is insane. I almost whimper out due to the awkwardness of the situation. 

I slide down on my seat, wanting to vanish into a puddle of goo on the floor right in front of this admittedly fine specimen of a man. 

Mr. Austin Cane apparently, now has the power to decide my future. This man who I just shouted at and flipped off on the street a few minutes ago. He will be determining if I will make the rent next month.

He quirks his left eyebrow. Still not uttering anything. 

"Mr. Austin, I..." 

"It's Mr. Cane to you. Why should I accept your application?" 

"I uhm. I just.." I stutter out. My brain is blanking, still not catching up from the bombshell of the situation. 

"You're wasting my time.” He’s about to turn his back on me. He stops midway and cocks his head.

“You have 10 seconds to convince me or I'll call security to throw you out." 

Gobsmacked by his on-brand rudeness, my brain kickstarts and annoyance surges up. I scramble for an answer. "Wait! I mean, I'm sorry Mr. Cane but uh... Well, I have the experience. As you can see in my resumé."  I thrust out the crumpled folder containing my credentials that I quickly got out of my bag.

That damn eyebrow quirk again. He stares at me, and seconds pass. He doesn't even glance at the folder. I retract my hand, wanting to disappear.

Oh my god, this is so painful. I'm just gonna walk out the door and leave. That's okay, right?  This is so embarrassing. Shit, this is the worst thing ever. I need to leave.

"Your experience is not enough. You're no use to me." I gulp. He's not finished insulting me.

"... and honestly, you're annoying and irritating. Why will I give you a chance, Ms. Blake?" He emphasizes my last name. Indicating that he knew me from the start. Even before he wrecked my bike. He must have seen the picture on my resumé. Unlike my stupid self who had no idea who he was and made an ass of myself in front of him. 

"No answer? What happened to Mr. Dickhead earlier huh? You're not such a smartass now. Come on, give me a good reason. Right fucking now." He slams his hand on his desk.  

I was startled, stunned at his temper. His eyes do not leave my face. I don't know how long I can endure this anymore. My mind is racing, my heart is actually pounding. "You owe me." I blurt out. 

His eyebrows shot up. 

"Well, you see. You should pay me for the damages. I have the right to sue you. I can get a copy of the security cameras on the street, go to the police, and sue you. I'm pretty sure my ankle is broken, and my wrist, yeah. I just know something is wrong with it." I offer up my left arm dramatically, wiggling my wrist, skid burns and all.

He looks disgusted. 

"Also, I might have internal damage to my organs, you know? I'm not sure, that collision was rough and sudden, you know? I might have something broken. A rib maybe?" I ramble on. 

"Or I can get myself checked at the hospital just to be sure, they usually call the police for that, right? I can, maybe I can..." 

"You're actually blackmailing me to get this job?" He sounds impressed. 

I hesitantly nod my head. Stopping myself from creating more absurd ideas.

"Hm..." He repeats. His eyes are laser-focused on me. I can feel him studying every minute detail on my face. His gaze moves from my lips to my eyes and back.

"Go to reception, tell Janice to come here." 

I'm dumbfounded. So he's just going to kick me out of the building with nothing? Not to mention order me around on the way out? 

"Now, Ms. Blake!" He raises his voice and startles me. I scurry out the door and go to Janice, telling her His Highness' instructions. 

Janice the snooty receptionist gives me a nasty look but swiftly moves. Before I know it, she comes back with a man in tow. 

"This is Mr. Cane's driver, Ronnie. He'll drive you home." Janice snipped at me. 

I am completely floored. What the hell does this mean? And why is Ronnie driving me home?

"Mr. Cane expects you to be here tomorrow at 9 am sharp for the new hire orientation." I cannot be more surprised by the turn of events. 

Still reeling, I let Ronnie lead me to a sleek black car, load up my broken bike and drive me home.

Do I have a concussion or something? Is this really happening? Did I get the job?

---

I did. I got the job. And it's my first day. After the contract signing, I was unceremoniously placed outside Mr. Cane's office. According to HR, Mr. Cane has never kept an assistant for a whole month. I was left with a meaningful look that I don't have the capacity nor the willpower to decipher. 

They said this desk has its fair share of horror stories. They didn't specify if it was Mr. Cane firing the employees or the assistants leaving in tears. I'm pretty sure it's the latter. 

After a whole morning of orientation and absorbing all the information about Cane Industries, I opened the little desk drawer beside my monitor. The cracked screen on my phone is signaling it's finally lunchtime. I pocket my phone and go down to the 7th floor.

Cane Industries has its own restaurant for employees with lavish dining areas and comfy-looking chairs. As much as I want to buy lunch, I really don't have the extra money even just for dessert. I'm just here to lounge around and eat my lunch in peace. 

Besides, I'm positive that one apple pie from the elegant display case is worth two days of my bus fare. Yes, I'm taking the bus. Since my bike is deceased, I have no choice but to take the bus every day now. 

The soggy chicken sandwich I packed this morning will have to do. At least I have something to munch on while I anxiously wait and wonder when Mr. Cane will start giving me tasks. 

I'm computing my budget for food for the week versus what I can save to have my bike repaired while nibbling on my cold sandwich when I see a pair of feet in my periphery. 

"Girl, hi! I'm Charlie." A feminine voice chirps up attached to an equally feminine-looking guy. 

"Dude you are literally creeping her out." A girl with short black hair and glasses elbows the guy. 

"Sorry, I'm just excited." His high-pitched voice and colorful shirt clued me into his sexuality. 

"Ugh. Never mind him, I'm Rosie and this gay thing is Charlie. He's in Marketing and I'm in the Accounting Department. We heard you're Olivia. Mr. Cane's new assistant?" Rosie smiles while inviting herself to settle down on the chair in front of me. 

Charlie gingerly places his tray of salad on the table before sliding in beside Rosie. 

"Hon, we're sitting here. We'll be friends, you have no choice." He simply states while the accounting girl Rosie grabs a few of her fries and stuffs her mouth with them. 

"Hey, yeah I'm Olivia Blake. Word travels fast here, huh?" 

"You know it. Janice keeps us updated." Charlie forks his lettuce. "And we're always curious about Mr. Cane's assistants. The last one, she barely managed to hang on for 3 weeks. Poor girl didn't even let HR know she was quitting. She just never showed up." 

"Do not scare the new girl, you idiot. It's bad enough he's her boss, you don't have to frighten her with your stories." 

"Why did the last one leave though?" I ask, dreading the answer. Maybe they can give me tips? I know he has a temper, I've seen him fire a guy like he's ordering lunch. Zero feelings. 

"He's just difficult. Let's leave it at that." Rosie said. "Anyway, you look like a tough girl. Just hang on, okay?" 

"Plus, even if he shouts at you, he looks good while doing it. Eye candy." Charlie says. 

"You're such a twat." Rosie deadpans at him. "If I were you though, I'd better get going. I heard he doesn't have lunch. And break time's almost over." Looking at her watch.

"Thanks, guys, I'll see you later." I hurry up and return to my desk. 

His door is open, maybe that's why the noise is amplified when the sound of a vase smashing on the window reaches me and makes me jump up in my seat.

Oh my god. That window is glass, I think uselessly. I am on high alert. 

"You're a stupid, worthless piece of shit, do you know that?!" He shouts at the phone. 

I'm glad that he's using the landline because I'm certain that he would have thrown his mobile at the wall as well. 

Jeez. What a prick. This guy is something else. I shake my head, putting my hand over my chest. My heart is pounding. 

More shouting. I take deep breaths, one two three. I refrain from making any noise of fear.

Silence. 

He slams the door of his office on his way out, startling me. He crosses the hallway in quick strides toward the lift. With an icy voice and still not looking in my direction, he commands, "You! Come with me. Let's see how well you can keep up."