In a cosy little apartment on the bustling streets of 28th Street, Amaya and her mischievous five-year-old son, Tommy, began their morning routine. Amaya was busy preparing lunch for Tommy when her old iPhone rang, and she hurriedly stepped away to take the call."Hello, Mary?" She smiled and opened the fridge."Yes, yes, how can I forget? Of course. Send my regards to the twins, okay? I'll visit you guys soon." She spoke in hushed tones, trying not to disturb her little one. However, Tommy, with his curious and adventurous nature, couldn't resist exploring his surroundings. As his mother spoke on the phone, he spotted her gleaming smartphone lying on the coffee table.The aroma of lunch filled the air, and Tommy's tummy rumbled with hunger. "Mommy, I'm hungry." He couldn't wait for his meal, but he knew better than to interrupt his mom during an important call. So he devised a plan to entertain himself while he waited.Giggling mischievously, Tommy tiptoed towards his mother's phone.
Lunch time at the JC building cafeteria."So, how's the interview?" Eva asked before sipping her juice.Amaya rolled her eyes. "Allen told me to come back after lunch to see the Boss and that he would also prefer someone who speaks Chinese or Japanese.""Wow! I didn't know the big boss was that picky.""And it didn’t say that in the advertisement," Amaya pointed out. "And you didn’t mention it when we spoke on the telephone either.""Come on, how would I know? Mr. Johnson, the big boss—he doesn't like to put too many specifications in the advertisements for one reason, and I rather agree.” Eva gave a small sniff.Well, there wasn’t much Amaya could say to that—clearly, at first glance, it had been decided that she wasn’t the right person for the job.Even though it had been an impossible dream, now that she had glimpsed it, Amaya wanted it.The salary was to die for—Tommy’s needs and her small apartment rent were due.Allen had explained during their initial interview that Mr. Johnson's
Two weeks later, the ride from Amaya’s apartment to JC Johnson’s building was long, and she already dreaded the idea of her first monthly meeting with the rest of the executive employees. And though she was grateful for the opportunity and had almost toppled over when she’d gotten the acceptance phone call, her chance at the Software Specialist department would come. She just needed to work her way up.But how could she concentrate when Chase had been under her head for the past two weeks?Two weeks, but it felt like two years.She had never been this stressed before. Chase was highly demanding, bossy, and fickle-minded. One moment he wants sandwiches, the next a salad. Then, in a blink, he would demand the papers that had already been signed and ask to rewrite them and resign again with their contructor. Amaya was overwhelmed by the job.Though she had always prided herself on being a resilient and composed individual, working with Chase had tested her limits like never before. "What
The minute the voice spoke, Amaya shivered. Her domineering boss stepped into the already-full meeting area, and her jaw slacked. It fell to the floor, and she swore she saw some mischief in his eyes as he looked at her and repeated, "Who is engaged?" Standing at the door was the man who’d done unholy things to her body six years ago, looking no less godlike than he had that night, with one exception—now he looked a whole lot scarier as he raised his brow at her. Chase wore pale grey slacks that seemed like they’d been sewn directly onto his body, a white tailored shirt, and a formidable scowl. He looked ready to behead Amaya and feed her limbs to the crowd of people who’d gathered around him. Beside him was a dark-haired man an inch shorter than he was. Justin. He had small, black, vacant eyes—the opposite of Chase’s deep indigo. But they had the same disapproving frown that made her feel like the dirt under their Bolvaint shoes. And probably the same amount of authority to fire you
"Apology for what?" Chase repeated.For impregnating me, you asshole! She thought to herself.If looks could kill, he'd be dead. Sighing, Amaya responded, "For lying to me. She raised her voice, on the verge of stomping her foot. Yes, she had nothing in mind, so she voiced this childish thing in her brain without thinking how pathetic she had been. "For faking an American accent and telling me you were just an ordinary businessman. For—""Not that it’s any of your business, Miss Patterson." Chase lifted one hand, cutting into her stream of words. "And not that I will ever provide you with any more personal information, seeing as you’re officially an employee, and my secretary one at that," he reminded me coolly. "Your two weeks are up, and guess what? I intend to keep you at my beck and call."Fuck you! I wished I could club him over the head with a stapler, remove the grin from his face, and still keep my job. Unfortunately, I was pretty sure HR would frown on that.He tugged at his c
The next day at six-fifty in the evening...And where, Amaya thought, am I? Still in the office. She was the last man standing. Or sitting, in actual fact. At her desk, with the computer flickering in front of her and profit and loss columns demanding attention. Not immediate attention—nothing that couldn’t wait until the following morning—but..."Jesus, what the hell am I doing here?" She sighed and sat back, stretching out the knots in her shoulders, and for a few minutes allowed herself to get lost in thought. She already called Tommy and the babysitter about doing overtime, and she swore her baby was disappointed.She knew where she should be right now—and it wasn’t in the office. Even if it was a very nice office in a more-than-very-nice building in the prestigious heart of Rome,In fact, she should be anywhere but here. To her son, watching Paw Patrol and eating cookies.Then she should be out enjoying herself when Tommy goes to sleep; she should be lazing around in the park with
Still perched on her desk, invading her space, Chase picked up a glass paperweight in the shape of a goldfish and twirled it thoughtfully between his fingers. "I'm not the devil, you know.""His cousin maybe?" but far too often, all things considered. He is the devil’s twin; there are no doubts about that. She thought to herself."Good, that mouth of yours, Miss Patterson, never seems to amaze me."She lowered her eyes in order not to murder the asshole, suddenly a little angry at some kind of unspoken, amused criticism behind his words.Chase pointed it out, dumping the goldfish back on the desk where he had found it. "What's with the boring outfit? I remember those nights when you were nothing but small red satin—"Her eyes widened. "Chase! We agreed; we both agreed to never ever mention what happened back then, remember? And my choice of clothing is none of your fucking business!""Mouth of an angel, I see." He smirked and stood up and slapped a sheaf of papers on her desk, then pl
"I'm not comfortable with you asking me some personal questions, Mr. Johnson," Amaya said as she looked around her at her neat space, in which she felt so safely cocooned. These four small walls of her cubicle were tangible proof of how far she’d come and how quickly—tangible proof of the solid income that marked her steps along that road called financial security.Her son had begged if he could visit her place of work, but Amaya had tactfully, and a little shamefully, killed the suggestion before it could take shape. She feared what might happen if Chase saw her son—what if he recognised him?"Why? I'm merely asking so I can drop you off; the bus at this hour is—""I can handle myself; the bus is always busy, but I managed for the past two weeks. Thanks for the offer." She shoved her work laptop into a leather briefcase and reached for the grey jacket she had slung over the back of her chair.Grey jacket, grey calf-length skirt, flat, sensible patent pumps, and, yes, definitely tight