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2. Mr Sinclair

Rosalie

"Rosalie, send the minutes from the last meeting to my email." My boss's voice fills my office through the small communication device he installed here. It's only connected to my office. So, I'm the only one that can hear him.

Which is a bad thing sometimes.

Mr Sinclair looks up in surprise when I walk in, a frown marring his handsome face as his gaze roams over my attire. I look down at myself, taking in the skirt and long-sleeved blouse I’m wearing, embarrassment rendering me speechless for a moment. I can count the times I’ve been around him in my usual work clothing on one hand. I never compromise on my professionalism, and neither does he.

I still remember the warning he gave me when we first started working together. He told me to never walk into his office wearing anything I couldn’t attend a board meeting in, and until today, I never have.

I cleared my throat and cleaned my sweaty palm on my skirt, "Mr Sinclair, I brought the minutes you asked for." His hard gaze remains on my face and I want to cower and hide from it.

I make sure to avoid eye contact with him. I can feel his eyes glaring holes into my skin, intimidating me.

He hesitates for a moment, and then he nods, before motioning me forward with his hands. He takes the file from me and opens it, reading the contents. I stand there in silence and take a minute to study him. He’s irritatingly handsome, with that strong jaw, that straight nose, and his thick dark hair. His good looks don’t make up for his complete lack of personality, though. I can’t even imagine him acting affectionate. Does he even know how to smile, or have his facial muscles completely atrophied due to lack of use?

In all the years I've worked with Mr Sinclair, I don't think he has ever smiled at me or regarded me in any other manner.

"What other manner would he regard you in?" My subconscious retorts rudely.

"Why didn't you just send it to my e-mail?" He asks and I stare at him feeling uneasy.

"I-I was just compiling the digital minutes to send it to you when you asked for it," I explain, making sure I do my best not to stutter.

I always seem to lose the ability to be fluent in speech any time I'm communicating with my boss.

"Hm," he lets out a low grunt. "Fine. Make sure I have that file in my e-mail before the end of the day." He tells me and I nod in agreement.

"Yes, sir." I mentally remind myself to drop every other work and focus on compiling that file. I move to pick the file up from his table but after I see how close it is to him, I think against it and walk towards the door.

"And where do you think you're going, Rosalie?" he asks, his tone as emotionless as it always is. We’ve been working together for years, yet he still calls me by my full name. I’m Rosie to everyone but him. From the very start, he’s made it clear that he dislikes me and that he intends to keep me at a distance.

That's the only explanation I can give for how he treats me.

I've seen how he acts and talks with the other employees and he's never this cold or rude towards them, except me.

"I was going to continue working on the minutes you asked for, sir," I tell him, hoping my voice doesn't betray me.

"I never gave you permission to leave." He relaxes in his chair and keeps his eyes on me.

Permission?

"I'm sorry, sir. I-I had no idea." I tell him honestly.

"You're my assistant, you work for me and I pay you. So, that means you're obligated to obey me whenever we're at work," He says.

"Yes, Mr Sinclair. I apologize." I can't lose this job, it's the only thing that has been keeping me and my family afloat.

Since Mum and Dad lost their jobs and the store started failing, my job as an assistant to the CEO of Sinclair Enterprise is the only thing helping my family and me survive.

Each of the Sinclair siblings handles different areas of the Sinclair conglomerate. Between them, they handle finance, media and PR, hotels, motor vehicles and tech, real estate, and some foreign holdings.

They’re all industries the Sinclairs have entered in the last fifty years, under their grandfather’s guidance. They've been tremendously successful, but it’s the Finance industry they entered first. It’s Sinclair Finance, and The Sinclair Bank, that they’re best known for. And the bank along with the hotels and real estate is being controlled by my boss, Mr Nicholas Sinclair.

That's how big and powerful his family name is.

"Have a seat." He commands and nods at the empty seat in front of him.

"Thank you, sir. I'm fine standing." I mutter weakly.

"Don't make me repeat myself, Rosalie." He pushes his seat back, walks to the makeshift bar in the corner of his office, and pours himself a glass of bourbon.

"I assure you there's no need, sir. I-I have to go finish my work soon anyway." I mumble.

He starts walking towards me and the marbled floor suddenly becomes an interesting sight for me. I keep my eyes on the floor, making sure to avoid any contact with him. The part of the bare floor I was just looking at is suddenly replaced with two black shiny shoes.

I jerk backward unable to control my surprise and my reaction to being this close to him. I lift my head slowly and my breath gets lodged in my throat. My pulse leaped in my throat. Up close, he was so beautiful it almost hurt to face him straight on. Thick black hair brushed his forehead, framing features straight out of the classic Hollywood era.

Chiseled cheekbones sloped down to a square jaw and sculpted lips, while deep brown eyes glinted behind glasses that only heightened his appeal.

Without them, his attractiveness would’ve been cold, almost intimidating in its perfection, but with them currently occupying his face, he was approachable. Human.

"Do I make you nervous, Rosalie?" Mr Sinclair asks

"N-no, sir," I mutter weakly. I seem to be doing that an awful lot around him.

He smirks, his eyes graze over my face and stop on my lips before he chuckles and steps back, looking away.

He's silent for up to a minute, and I make sure to keep my eyes down, completely avoiding his intimidating gaze. "Go and get your work done." He tells me, "You may leave." He adds, dismissing me.

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Jenna
Our male lead is so ...
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