Suddenly Peter And Mary

I was walking hurriedly toward the elevators of a large mirrored building on Madison Avenue. That was Navruz Publications, my father's publishing Company.

It was my first day on the job and I didn't want to be late. I finally got in the elevator, I got my cell phone, breathing in relieved. It was three minutes to seven o'clock, I was going to be there in time.

When my parents offered me this job, I got carried away, After all, that's why I graduated in journalism

. But It wouldn't be easy just because I'm the heiress to the company, my mother insisted that I should learn the importance of hard work, and decided that I shouldn't start with a high position, but like any other recently graduated.

That's how I ended up as personal assistant to Pyotr Rozanov, the editor-in-chief of the literary magazine Book Review.

I kept thinking about how i'd give my office a more personal touch. Omar introduced me to the place last week, when I went to do the interview.

Pyotr Rozanov seemed to be a very private person, he just listened while Omar explained that I should be treated like an ordinary employee. I felt your look at me all the time, but I didn't know what to think about it.

I focus on my reflection in the elevator mirror as I wait for it to climb the twenty-five floors to my new workplace. I passed my hand through my long, thick strands of black hair that I had fastened in a loose ponytail. I wore a set of social pants and pantsuit, paired with a white shirt and striped scarpins with red details and wanted to be perfect for my first day.

I smiled at myself in the mirror as soon as the doors opened behind me. I followed in firm steps to my new workplace, attracting a few glances as I passed by. My own office, as they called the desk with a computer and phone I would occupy, was in the front room of Pyotr's office. I noticed the door ajar as soon as I arrived.

I put my bag on the table and i went to the door, knocking lightly before I open it.

"You're late," he declared without looking at me before I even said anything.

"What? I'm not. "I defended myself " it's seven o'clock.”

"Yes, you are," He raised his eyes from the papers he was reading “It's seven hours and three minutes.”

"It's almost the same thing. " I rolled my eyes," It was time to take the elevator.”

"I don't want you to be in the elevator at seven,"my boss kept looking into my eyes with an indifferent look “I want you to be at your table at seven.”

I faced him indisccan. My dad didn't get me a nice boss, maybe I should have chosen to work for Meredith Stewart.

"I left a list of things I need you to do on your desk” Pyotr turned his attention to the work in front of you “Start with the coffee, there's a Starbucks across the street.”

"Coffee? " I crossed my arms "Will you make me leave the building just to get you coffee?”

"It's part of your job, Marianne," the man again focused his attention on me.

"I'm willing to work, but become the coffee girl? Serious?” I insisted.

"Do you think I haven't sought coffee many times in my life, Marianne? "He stood up and walked to me.

"I can ask my father to buy a coffee maker," I cast a sharp eye toward the man, "I can even choose one if you want.”

"And I can call your father and tell him it didn't work out," He stared at me triumphantly.

"You can't fire me ten minutes after I started working, Peter," I complained.

"My name is Pyotr, Marianne" He took a deep breath.

Of course, as if I could pronounce it.

"Then don't call me Marianne! "I've re-tricked.

He wouldn't really fire me, would he? My mother would skin me alive if I lost my first job in ten minutes.

"What do you decide? "He kept staring at me," Shall I call your father, Marianne?”

I faced him angry, I noticed a certain pleasure in the man when pronouncing my name.

I can get you a cup of coffee. I can do this every day without any problem. My mom's right, I'm kind of lucky to get a job right after I graduate, a lot of them can't.

"How do you want your coffee, Peter?"  I forced a smile, pronouncing 'Peter' with the same tone he used before.

"A white mocha without whipped cream," he replied after staring at me for a while, "Don't take too long, you have a lot to do.”

I rolled my eyes and left the room. I'm definitely being punished for something.