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"How many times do I have to tell you to tell these people to stop putting me in their newspaper?" I fling the paper down on the table in disgust and glare at my assistant Edith. She doesn’t bat an eyelid as she glances up at me over the top of her purple glasses. Her blue eyes take me in keenly and then glance back down at her desk. She doesn’t even acknowledge the paper as she swipes something on her phone. She’s looking at photographs of her grandkids and is not bothered with me and my bad mood whatsoever. "Did you hear me?" I ask her, irritation clear in my voice. I fold my arms, square my shoulders, and stare her down.
"I heard you, Ethan." There’s not a note of concern in her voice as she nods and holds up a photo of a blond baby in a bath. "Isn’t Jeremiah such a cutie?" she gushes as she waves the photo back and forth in front of my face.
I hold my breath and count to ten. For the twentieth time this week, I want to fire her. She deserves to be fired. She’s the worst assistant to exist in corporate America, yet I know I can’t get rid of her. Edith Pisa has been at the company since my grandfather started it and even worked for free for my dad when he almost ran it into the ground. Edith knows the Rosser family loves her and that she has a job for life, even if she doesn’t actually do much. And by much, I mean nothing. She’s entitled to a full pension. She is set for life but says coming to the office gives her purpose.
"He’s okay." I press my lips together as she flickers through more photos of her grandchildren, like I care. "Are there any messages for me?"
"Not that I know of." She shakes her head as if I’m asking her a dumb question. "Oh, there is something. Janet, you know Janet, she works in the cafeteria. She makes the coffee. Not the bad coffee, that’s Sylvia. Who I daresay should have been fired long ago, but I guess after she got over cancer, it would have been heartless to fire her."
"Edith, please. What is the point of this?" I hold in a huge sigh as I grab a stack of letters from her desk.
"Well, Janet told me that she was speaking to people in the IT department this morning. They love her cappuccinos, you see. She gives them free biscotti, with each cup. Homemade it is, very nice. I think her husband’s mother was from Sicily."
"Edith."
"Well, they said that there’s an internal website going live this week. An internet for everyone who works here at Rosser International. Just for us."
"Intranet."
"That’s what I said, internet."
"No, it’s an intranet. It’s a private network for all employees to communicate with each other. Post memos, etcetera." I nod. "And yes, it’s going live later this week. I am the one that approved it."
"Well, well, well, look how far we’ve come." Edith sits back and opens her handbag. I can see some knitting needles and several skeins of wool. She’s probably knitting me another scarf for my birthday or a blanket for another one of her grandkids. I wasn’t going to bother asking which one, though I hope it’s not for me. The bright red wool I can see is not appealing to me whatsoever.
"I’m going into my office. Hold all calls for the morning. I need to concentrate on some contracts Nicholas has drawn up for our new line of pendant lights." I may as well be talking to myself. Edith is no longer listening. I walk into my office, close the door, and pull out my cell phone. It rings twice, and then I hear a long groan.
"What is it?" Pamela, my real assistant, answers, and I know she’s not happy to hear from me. I don’t care.
"When are you back? Edith is not handling shit." I grunt as I head toward my desk. My office is vast, with a majestic view of the New York skyline. I can see Central Park in the distance. I think of the people walking about leisurely at that very moment. None of whom are as rich as me. No one who is walking around in the middle of a workday has close to the amount of money I have.
"Next week."
"Next week?" I glare into the phone. "That means I have to handle the entire week by myself."
"I’m sorry, Ethan, but you’ve known that I was going to be away this week for over a year." I can hear seagulls in the background as she talks and whispers something to someone and giggles.
"It’s just not a good time to be away…" My voice trails off as I pause and wait for her to offer to get back to the office to help me out. There’s silence on the other end of the line, aside from the sound of waves crashing against rocks and little kids screaming in the background.
"Ethan, I am on my honeymoon. You’re lucky I even answered the phone." She sounds annoyed now, and I can picture her pinched white lips. Pamela often gets annoyed with me and isn’t shy to express her sentiments, which is why we get on so well. Pamela, like Edith, is not in love with me, has no desire to impress me, and doesn’t want to date or marry me. And she isn’t trying to get her hands on my fortune. That is part of the reason why she’s worked alongside me and Edith for the past five years without issue. In fact, Pamela used to be a workaholic until Carl came along, swept her off her feet, and then proposed to her. Carl Poveroski is the worst thing that has ever happened to me and my work life.
"Aren’t honeymoon’s overrated?" I ask, grunting as I take a seat behind the mahogany wooden desk that my grandfather had once sat behind. His father made the desk, and it makes me proud to use it to work from every day. A real piece of family history.
"Mr. Rosser." She changes to my formal name and I know she’s lost all patience with me. "Was there something important you wanted to ask me before I hang up in five seconds?"
"Make sure I’m not on that list of eligible bachelors again next year," I snap as I lean back and check my email. I groan as I see dozens of new emails from eager women who have gone to our company website and found my email address. I close my eyes and press my lips together. "I don’t need every desperate woman in the United States and beyond trying to make me fall for them."
"If you got married yourself, then you wouldn’t have to worry about being on the list," she says smartly and then laughs because she knows her words are not what I want to hear. "Carl wants to go swimming now. Have a great week. I’ll see you soon." Before I can respond, she hangs up the phone, and I put my cell down on the desk.
"Never going to happen," I mutter to no one as I think about her words. The thought of getting married does not excite me. I don’t see myself married. Or having kids. Or settling down with one woman. My grandparents think it’s because I’ve never met the one, but I already know there isn’t a one. I’ve dated hundreds, if not thousands, of women, and I have not once wanted to have a serious relationship. I know many women think I had my heart broken when I was younger, and that’s why I’m not looking for anything serious, but no such thing ever happened. I’ve never been in love and never wanted it, either. The last thing I need is a bunch of women trying to garner my attention to try to be the one to make me settle down.
Bang. A loud rapping on my door makes me stand up and walk toward it. I know it’s not Edith because she doesn’t bother to knock.
"Who is it?" I call out as I open the door abruptly. I try not to roll my eyes as I see my CFO, Jackson Pruitt, standing there with a bouquet of roses in his hand and a dopey grin on his face. I already know he’s about to get on my nerves with some foolishness. Jackson is my best friend, colleague, and probably the only person in the world who can tease me and get away with it.
"Mr. Rosser, please take me on a date this evening," he says in an overly high, squeaky feminine voice as he walks into my office. "I promise I can make all your dreams come true." He pretends to bow and flutters his fingers. "I’ve looked all my life for a mighty fine man like you," he continues, barely able to keep a straight face as he jokes around.
"Really, Jackson?" Fireworks spark from my eyes as I glare at his grinning face. He thinks he’s funny, and I know he will be teasing me for the next couple of days, as he does every year when the article comes out. I wish the sparks were real so that they’d burn him and make him shut up.
