Two

Chapter Two

.^.^.^DOMINIC.^.^.^

My secretary stuttered without remorse. It rose something dark inside or me, seeing those green eyes of hers with a hue of brown whenever she was subdued and taken by—

Wait?

The color of her eyes?

“I’m listening,” I pushed on, discarding the mucky feeling that had passed through me.

Her breath hitched as those taut lips or here quivered, “I…I said…I said you were an—I didn’t mean to. You know I have a condition…where…where my intrusive thoughts tend to—

“A tic?”

Her eyes widened like I’d just placed a fat piece of pie on her plate, “Yes,” she cried out, “i have tics!”

“So you’re disabled?”

Her countenance suddenly turned to one of gloom, “No I’m not,” her head sunk in shame and I heard sniffle, almost like she was about to cry, “I deeply apologize for my insolence, Mr Volkov. I’ll take whatever punishment you give me. Please don’t fire me.”

I should absolutely fire her. She was insolent, annoying cheerful when I didn’t need it and—

“Get out of my sight, Earhart.” I grunted, turning around as I couldn’t decipher I wouldn’t just let her go, “Eight pm. Don’t be late.” I muttered.

“Yes sir!” She almost cried, like she was surprised by my sudden generosity.

She wasn’t alone on that notion. The feeling was definitely mutual.

.^.^.^.^.^

“Let’s break up.” Anna, my girlfriend of over a year and a few months. The very woman I was planning to bend the knee for next week, suddenly muttered over the phone, right on my way to the gala.

I signaler my driver to halt the car for a moment and sight upright. Probably didn’t hear her correctly, “What are you—

“Dom,” She paused for a moment and I heard her take a deep breath, “You’re a great guy. I believe you should know that by now….”

“Then why are you ending things?!” I was beyond furious, raising my voice in such a manner was unlike me, but this had come out from nowhere that it threw me in for a loop.

Anna was from the Hasbrow family, their merger with the Volkov empire was one of the very few reasons I planned on proposing to her, coupled with the fact that she was well suited as a wife to a man of my caliber.

Now she was breaking up with me…

Just perfect.

There was a pause on her hand on the phone, and then a sniffle. A move I’d gotten used to when she wanted something out of me, “I fell in love with someone else, Dom.”

I scoffed, “Who is he? A mogul! Royalty?”

“A French artist.” She corrected.

A French artist?? I couldn’t help but laugh internally at the sheer irony. The universe was playing a dirty game with my patience.

“You’re picking a lowlife artist over a great standing in—

“Yes!!” She cried out, “He makes me happy!” Sniffling again, “Don’t take this the wrong way but I don’t even think you’re capable of loving someone.”

It wasn’t even a jab.

She was right.

Love was a waste of time, as it was for fools.

“Then why were you with me,” I asked bitterly. Surely there must’ve been—

“I….” Her breath hitched and I felt insulted, “I honestly don’t know, Dom. Goodbye.”

She hung up. One year of thinking I’d finally found someone and she breaks up with me over the phone . Angry and betrayed wasn’t even cutting it. I was beyond gutted.

“Boss,” My driver asked, “Should I turn around?”

“No.” I shook my head, “Go on.”

A somewhat broken heart or not. I still had an event to attend.

.^.^.^.^.^.^.

Two hours later and nothing seemed to improve my mood. Not the high praises from my respective counterparts, not the looks of admiration from countless women in the arena, and certainly not Amelia Earhart and the damned red dress she was clad in.

Seriously, why in the world did she look so—

“Mr Volkov,” she veered closer. The sudden whiff of her perfume certainly wasn’t doing me any favors, “are you okay?”

I was demoted to a single billionaire for a poor French artist, I was in my fifth glass of whiskey and I couldn’t get the smell of my secretary’s perfume out of my head.

To answer the question; No. I was not okay.

“You should wear less perfume. It’s irritating.” I grunted in response and grabbed a glass of Chardonnay for my misery.

.~.~.~AMELIA.~.~.~

It was unlike him. The ever well composed and ruthless CEO acting this way. To the mundane eye he was normal, but one month of being Dominic Volkov’s corporate slave had me reading into his body language more than I should.

He was drunk.

Composed. But drunk.

Something had definitely happened for him to be this way. I could see the fraying looking in his eyes, the pure anger that wasn’t from a business deal gone bad.

There was no reason for me to feel any compassion for the prick. I despised him. And he’d just insulted my cheap perfume from the corner store too.

Still, it was my job as secretary to get him home safe. I cleared my throat and summoned enough courage to take the third glass of Chardonnay away from his grasp.

“Mr Volkov,” I held my breath for a moment at his incredulous stare, “You’re drunk. I need to get you home.”

Dominic Volkov simply stared at me for more than a moment, and then he said, “Okay.”

I heaved a sigh of relief and tagged behind him. He walked like the boastful bastard he was. So drunk. So prideful. His gait even when compromised made me sick.

We reached his car and then the vulnerable side of him came out. Dominic Volkov swayed and landed a arm on my shoulder. I almost yelled at the cold touch of his hand.

The drive to his apartment was a silent one. He grabbed another bottle of rum, a minuscule one. I looked the other way as I wasn’t paid enough to tell him to stop. Thankfully the car stopped. The driver turned around and hurled a keycard at me which landed on my lap, “This is just one of many apartment building he stays in. Thank you so much of this.”

“Huh?” My eyes widened.

Mr Volkov was already out the door and staggering toward the main building before I could object. I quickly rushed out and grabbed him, placing a bit of his weight on my shoulder as I escorted him in before the cameras could catch us.

He kept on nagging under his breath as to how horrible I was at my job.

“Your perfume…..is…..hor…..rible.”

I ignored his rambling as I pressed the keycard to open the apartment door. Annoyed and ready to leave before I unleashed my anger on his drunken self, I helped him towards the couch.

He was an asshole even in such a state. He didn’t deserve a soft bed.

“You smell bad,” he grunted, “I must be losing my mind.”

I couldn’t take it any longer and just snapped, “Well if I smell so bad why don’t you just fire me!”

“I should,” he murmured,

And then something strange happens, “like I said, I must be losing my mind.”

My boss suddenly toppled me over without as much breaking a sweat. I blinked and suddenly I was under him.

Then he kissed me.