Chapter four

I received different looks from everyone, as I was walking to Mr. Trevelyan's office: a couple of stares, a bunch of glares, a few sympathetic looks, and a whole lot of snickers.

"First day of work, and you're daydreaming at your point of duty." Even though, his voice was calm and steady, I almost winced. Almost. "You weren't hired to daydream."

Unfortunately.

"I'm sorry..." I said instead and he raised a brow. "...sir."

"Go to the coffee room and get me some coffee, in the next ten seconds," he ordered and I was surprised at how quickly his mood changed.

And to say I was caught off guard would be an understatement.

"Yes, Sir." I scurried out of the office, only to stumble on something, lose my footing, and fall. A colorful string of expletives spewed out of my mouth as I planted my face into the marble floor. Rubbing my forehead, I groaned and my gaze shifted up. It was not something, it was someone. 

"Shit! I'm sorry," the man mumbled stooping low to help me up. "Hi, I'm-" 

"Yeah, nice to meet you too but I have to leave," I cut him off and rushed to the hallway.

Where is Susan? I ran my hand in my hair and searched frantically for Susan. I finally spotted her and I ran over to her.

"Hey, Susan. Where do they make coffee?"

She turned at me, somewhat bewildered. Her head tilted to the side and her eyebrows infinitesimally went upwards. "In coffee-making factories?"

I let out a heavy sigh, rubbing my face. "Where is the coffee room in this building?"

"Oh yeah, it is on the thirteenth floor."

I breathed out a huff of breath, my chest heaving dutifully. "Thanks."

Mumbling to myself about how far the distance between the elevator and where I stood was, I speed-walked to the elevator and pressed the open button. A few impatient foot tapping and nervous nail-biting later, the damn elevator doors pinged open and I rushed inside.

*

"Here's your coffee, Sir," I muttered as I lowered the cup of coffee on my very cheerful employer's table.

"Miss. Greene, you're twenty-two seconds late," he muttered, his face as expressionless as the bottom of my shoe. His stormy grey eyes met mine and a dull chill swept over my limbs. "And I hate tardiness," he continued. "The time you wasted would be deducted from your pay."

I introduced my jaw to the floor underneath my feet, in other words, my jaw slackened. "Excuse me, Sir-"

"Miss. Greene, you're well excused," he cut in, reclining back in his swivel chair, his face, though expressionless, still managing to look smug.

I gritted my molars and the gnashing noise of grinding teeth reverberated in my ears. "Sir, it takes an average elevator to go down twenty floors no less than forty seconds and in case you haven't noticed yet, I don't have wings or extra legs-"

"Indeed, that would be anatomically absurd," he interrupted once again.

My fingers twitched and I forced a breath through my nostrils. Calm down, Isabelle, you do not want to wrap your fingers around his neck and make him choke on his words. "Yes, Sir," I let out. "But, Sir, my point is that if you decide to deduct-"

"Miss. Greene," he broke me off again, the pad of the forefinger of his left hand resting on his temple. His eyes were still transfixed on me, unmoving and stormy-grey.

My left fingers flexed and folded together into an unstable fist before unfolding against their will. My face contorted into what felt like a sweet wide smile. "Yes, Mr. Trevelyan?"

"I don't waste my time listening to unnecessary tirades," he said, his eyes flickering to my hands. For a teensy-weensy moment, I could have sworn the corner of his lip twitched. "You, however," he continued, "can waste the whole of eternity as long as you leave my office and continue with your work."

My chest heaved and I gave myself a mental pep talk. Come on, Isabelle, you can do this. You don't want to murder someone now, do you?

'What work?' the sensible part of my brain decided to ask.

"Bring over all the re-printed documents by twelve sharp," he ordered and I bobbed my head up and down once, completely having no idea what he was talking about. I was just about to turn and walk away when-

"Use your mouth."

My limbs froze solid and I felt my right eyelid give an infinitesimal twitch. Lips thinning, I slowly turned my head to him and my head cocked to the right slightly. "Yes, Sir," I gritted, making sure my voice did the same effect as his eyes.

The man didn't even flinch. "Good," he said, "Now get out, you have work to do."

I closed my eyes for a moment and slowly sucked in a breath. Lord, help me be nice and not crush his skull with his own coffee mug.

His voice broke into my thoughts, "Miss. Greene, daydreaming again, aren't you?"

My eyelids fluttered open and I smiled widely again -as widely as my face could allow. "No, Sir, I was just relaxing my eye muscles."

His impenetrable gaze didn't leave my face instead, his gaze hardened and narrowed ever so slightly. "Miss. Greene, are you having facial cramps or do you have constipation?"

My smile stretched wider and I stared back at him with equal energy, not backing down one bit. "Ah no, not at all, Sir."

Not one muscle on his face twitched, he just kept his eyes eyes fixated on me. Like a creep. "Then, get out of my office, you're dismissed."

Sure I am.

"Yes, of course, Sir."

And so I rocked on my heel, swivelled around and strolled out of his office with my fingers itching to punch a certain grey-eyed and expressionless face till it's completely bashed in. I shut the opaque and thick glass door behind me with a not-so delicate slam and sauntered away from my very cheerful and colorful boss. In a few angry strides, I got to the elevator. I was just about to furiously stab my thumb into the elevator button when-

"So, what got smashed up his ass this time?"

I whirled around so fast that my ponytail whipped my cheek. Hard. The man from earlier -the one with green eyes- appeared beside me.

I heaved out a heavy huff of breath through my mouth. "His big head and a red hot pole," I answered.

He chuckled lowly, his deep voice rumbling. "Ah, lucky you. Others have seen worse, most of them didn't survive but don't worry, you'll get used to it. We all did, after all."

"I don't think I can get used to that."

"Trust me when I say this, I said the exact same thing after meeting him."

I smiled. "Hm, but I was told to never trust strangers."

There was an amusing gleam in his bottle-green eyes. "I like you already. The name's Scott. Eric Scott. The asshole's manager." He stretched out his hand, silently asking for a handshake.

I breathed out a laugh. "You didn't just go James-Bond on me now, did you?" I outstretched my clammy hand not before discreetly rubbing the sweat off the exterior of my palm on the fabric of my skirt. I shook his hand firmly. "The name's Greene. Isabelle Greene. Nice to meet you too."

He parted his mouth to speak but a not-so distinct yell from the opposite room interrupted him even before he began. "Oof, sorry, I have to go see him," he said. "See you later, Isabelle."

And he was gone.

Well, he kind of stumbled on his feet before entering my cheerful boss' office but where's the fun in that?

I jabbed my finger into the elevator door button and doors rolled open. I walked in and, after a moment, the door pinged closed, leaving me alone to my thoughts and horrible elevator music.

The scene at Mr. Trevelyan's office replayed in my mind's eye. Who the heck did he think he was? Did he really expect me to get a coffee that was twelve floors down in ten seconds? And that smug expression -or lack thereof- on his face made me want to just punch the wall over and over again. I glanced at the metal-plated walls of the elevator, contemplating my thoughts. Then, I shook my head, knowing fully well that he'd probably deduct the cost repair for dented elevator walls from my salary.

The asshole.

But you can't ignore the fact that he's your boss.

The elevator door opened and I rushed out before my fists forget to use their non-existent brains and decide to kiss elevator walls with their non-existent lips.

I strolled across the busy hallway full of bustling people occupied with completing one work or the other to my new office. When I finally made it there, my hands enclosed the brass door knob of the door of my office and turned it.

I pushed open the thick oak wood door and walked in. The moment my eyes slid over to my desk, I knew something was out of place.

Things were out of place.

A lot of things were out of place.

The huge piles of files on my desk top greeted me with a wide sinister psychopathic grin saying, 'I hope you enjoy your first day at work!'

*

I sighed to myself as I took the last three out of the dozens of printed copies of statements and reports. "Finally," I muttered, my stomach growling in agreement. I took the sheets of papers, reviewed them for a while to search for any blurred word, and placed them into the stack of bundled papers on my desk top.

Heaving the pile against my chest, I twisted my wrist with skill and glanced at the wristwatch fastened to my wrist. My shoulders sagged with relief and I sighed. He said twelve, didn't he?

I slowly took delicate steps towards the door, making sure to not trip on my own feet and ruin the result of my handiwork in the process. Just when I was about to skillfully open the door with my hand, someone knocked on it.

"No, don't-"

But it was too late. The person in the other side opened the door even before I could finish my sentence and the edge of the door pushed back, and -surprise surprise- shoved me to the ground.

I toppled down, with the heavy weight of the files aiding my literal downfall. I groaned and spurted out a vivid and creative series of expletives as my posterior slammed into the ground and the arranged pile I worked on scattered around me.

"I haven't even stayed here for more than five hours and you've all swept me off my feet twice!" I muttered without looking up and tried to rearrange the files.

"Oh fuck," a soft feminine voice said above me. "I didn't know you were- shit, they're so many. Here, let me help." Whoever it was that made my behind a companion for the marble floors stooped low to help me assemble the sheets of paper. I glared at the crown of the girl's chestnut brown hair but held my tongue.

After a few minutes full of paper cuts and silent glares, all the files were amassed into their previous form. I caught a quick glimpse of the girl's face while she packed up the last few sheets. She had a smooth golden brown skin and short bangs hung over her big doe-eyes.

"There," she murmured and patted the paper sheets into place. She straightened her posture from her previous crouching position with ease. I felt the weight of her stare on me as she extended her hand to help me to my feet. "Help you up?"

I eyed her open palm. "No, thank you very much for the offer but I can as well help myself up." I hoisted myself -or well, I attempted to, but my raw bottom kept pulling me to the ground, reminding me of a certain throb ever single time it slammed back to the ground.

Damn it, this is so embarrassing. Mental note: Remember to jog every morning for at least ten minutes.

When I realized being stubborn would do me no good and probably have me fired, I raised my head to regard the girl, my eyes meeting her hazel ones. I smiled meekly. "Hi, uh, help me up, please?"

She breathed out a laugh and extended her hand which I took with gladness. "Sure."

"Thanks." I took more note of her features –almond-shaped and hazel eyes, high and somewhat sunken cheeks, heart-shaped lips, and a prominent chin dimple.

"Sorry for crashing the door into you earlier," she said, "I'm Rosalind, I work at the Staff Welfare unit. I didn't see you at lunch." She extended her hand.

I took her hand and shook it firmly enough before letting go. "It's okay. I'm Isabelle. There's a floor where you have lunch? Like for free?"

She chuckled, "Ah. Yes, we have a lunch room, it's on the fifth floor and I, being a staff welfare hireling, didn't see you there since well, it's kind of compulsory to have lunch even though it's not for free. So yeah, there's a lunch room, and no, we have to pay for food."

I nodded slowly, registering the fact that she's a really chatty person. "I was busy with a few tasks that Mr. Treve-" I paused and my eyes widened. I was so carried away with everything that I forgot about the task

I was given. "Rosalind, please what's the time?"

A frown covered her face but she rose her wrist to her face anyway. She murmured, "Uh, eleven fifty-eigh- oh wait, now it's eleven fifty-nine."

My heart screeched to a halt before restarting second later slap-bang against my ribs. "That's it. I'm fired." I hunched over and heaved the pile of files to my chest. "See you later, Rosalind." Or never, depending on our boss' mood today.

In no time, elevator doors pinged opened and revealed the hallway leading to my cheerful boss' office. I swallowed and glanced at my wrist for the umpteenth time.

Twelve PM.

I took in a deep breath as my knees wobbled under the weight of the files in my hands. With moderate care, I knocked on the office door.

"Come in," my favorite boss in the whole world said coolly from the other side of the door. I twisted the new doorknob and pushed open the door. "Miss. Greene, you're late."

I put on my sardonic smile and walked towards his desk. "Good afternoon to you too, Sir." I plopped the files on his desk top and they landed conspicuously with a dull thud.

"You were supposed to bring the files five and a half seconds ago."

"How unfortunate. I had no idea at all, I'm so sorry, Sir."

"Are you toying with me?"

"No, Sir, we are having a conversation."

He regarded me with his stormy impenetrable grey eyes, his eyes sliding to the files. "What is this?" he muttered.

I blinked. "This here on your desk, Sir, are sheets of paper made from pulped wood."

His gaze flickered to me for half a second before returning to their previous spot. The index finger and thumb of his left hand rubbed against each other slowly. "Miss. Greene, how were these files arranged on your desk?"

My stomach growled lowly as I pursed my lips. "On top of each other, Sir?"

His expression didn't falter. "They were in a chronological order. I expected them to be in the same order that they were."

"A pity, isn't it?"

"Miss. Greene?"

"Yes, Mr. Trevelyan?"

"Hold your tongue."

I smiled widely. "Sure, Mr. Trevelyan."

His gaze slid to the files and he sneered. "Now you're going to take this files back and have them rearranged in a chronological order. A new correspondence will arrive for me at exactly one PM so on your your way back here, I want you to visit the lobby to receive it. You should be here at exactly one PM, any second later and the time wasted will be deducted from your monthly earnings. At four in the afternoon, we're to go somewhere so you're allowed to go home at two to get ready. Is that clear?"

I bobbed my head twice and let everything he said sink in. "Yes, Sir. Very clear." I hurled the pile back to my chest and turned on my heel.

"You haven't been dismissed yet."

I slowly let out a breath and turned back to him. "Yes, of course, Sir."

"You're dismissed."

A wide snarky smile masked the look of the disdain I threw at him. "Thank you very much, Sir," I cooed sweetly and spun on my heel.

"Are you sure you don't have lockjaw?"

My smile stretched as my right eyelid twitched. I whirled back to him and regarded him with a twisted grin. "No, Sir. Of course not."

"Miss. Greene, you weren't hired to make irrelevant grimaces. Get back to work."

You don't need to tell me that again.

"Yes, Sir. I was just about to." I whirled around and jogged out his office.