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"It doesn't help that no one trains you gals. And all the other girls have been real nasty so I never offered a hand. But I will try to be as much help as possible. I've been here for a while so I have come to... know some things."
Hannah noted his inflection and smiled, leaning closer. "Oh?"
Tad took the bait. "Most importantly, he takes his coffee black. And, well, he takes his coffee with his oxygen, so you should never let his cup get empty or he will be a real bear. He doesn't talk much to any of us, except maybe Sally, and he will expect you to anticipate his needs. He won't spell things out for you. Most days he is here before anyone else but me. I work an early shift. And he leaves after pretty much everyone else but the cleaning staff. You should become intimately acquainted with the florists in this area. He always has a woman on his arm. You know how men like him are..."
"Ah...yeah," Hannah agreed, assuming that he meant men are pigs who couldn't keep it zipped and that men who have money and power are even bigger animals.
"He doesn't have much of a family it seems. Other than his brother who also works here. Sort of. He drops in every now and then to discuss things with EM but mostly to make the gals, and my, heart flutter from his charm. His name is James. He is going to put the moves on you something fierce. My advice would be to playfully turn him down. EM wont like you fraternizing with his little brother."
"Understood. And I am not here to find a... lover. Or boyfriend or anything. I'm here to work."
"Oh, of course. I don't want you to think I am implying anything else. It's just... well, I think you will just have to meet him to understand. Oh, but look at the time, darling. You better get that coffee brewing. He will be here any minute."
And he was. The second the coffee pot chimed its completion, the elevator doors opened and there he was. He never looked up, holding the newspaper in his hand and reading something that had caught his interest. He wore an all black suit with a purple and yellow tie. Something about him looked even more intimidating than he had the day before. And he still hadn't shaved.
Hannah filled a cup quickly and, just as he was powering up his computer, she had it next to his hand. "Good morning, Mr. Michaels," she said, smiling and hoping she was making a good impression.
He grunted and took a sip from his coffee. And that seemed like that was the only reply she was going to get as he went on to check through his emails and typed methodically. Hannah waited silently at the front of his desk, hoping to God that he would give her some occupation other than standing around like an idiot. He left her there long enough to type a lengthy reply to an email before finally breaking the silence.
"My car will need to be dropped off at the shop at nine-thirty for an oil change. My dry cleaning must be picked up. I have an appointment at eleven and I will need my car back by then. While I am at the meeting, I expect you to see to the planning of my business trip next weekend and finding a new housekeeper for me."
Hannah scrambled for a paper and a pen, jotting down as quickly as she could to make sure she didn't leave anything out.
"There is a package at Cooper Construction that I need picked up and then, of course, I will need lunch at a quarter to one. I also need a detailed schedule for tomorrow to be compiled by coordinating with all the secretaries out there. And these," he said, hauling out an impressive stack of unopened letters, "will need to be gone through and replied to by the end of this business day. Understood?"
"Yes sir," she said.
"That's all," he said before she had even stopped writing.
Feeling thoroughly dismissed, she walked toward the door. And it certainly hadn't escaped her notice that he hadn't even looked her way once during his speech. She couldn't focus too much on feeling disgruntled because her mind was already working a mile minute. She would take the letters and read them and jot down notes for replies as she waited for the car to finish at the shop. From there she could get the dry cleaning. That was she could get the car back by eleven. From there, she could make plans for the trip and type up replies to letters. She could order lunch on her way to pick up the package from Cooper Construction and then grab it from the restaurant on her way back to the office. Maybe she could grab a few bites from the lunch she had brought with her while she hit the newspaper and looked for a housekeeper. Then at sometime close to five, she could figure out what the secretaries in store for tomorrow and then type that out as well.
She had it all planned out. Easy peasy.
Except that it wasn't. At all. She hadn't factored in traffic or commuting time or just how often this man needed a refreshment of his coffee. It also had never occurred to her to inquire during his speech about, exactly, what car shop his car had an appointment at, or what he liked to eat, where his dry cleaning was, or how often he needed a cleaning lady. She already had Tad programmed into her cell phone as her first contact and had to text him at least ten times before she had even returned to the office.
She rushed in, balancing the weird cylindrical tube the incompetent workers at Cooper Construction had finally given her after searching for it for twenty minutes in the crook of her arm, the dry cleaning in her hand, letters all but spilling out of her purse, and EM's meal balanced between her chest and her arm. Maneuvering her elbow to open the door, she pushed silently into the office, dropping the package on the desk by the door, hanging up the fresh dry cleaning on the coat rack, and dropping off the lunch container to the side of EM's arm. He said nothing, reading over some file. But he pushed his coffee cup toward the edge of his desk, which she had learned was his way of letting her know it was empty.
Hannah snatched the cup away aggressively and stomped out of the room, closing the door with a bit more force than was necessary. The insufferable man never even said thank you, let alone told her she was doing a good job. He never said anything but bark out an order and talk to more important people on his phone.
He was a complete jerk.
–
She was a pleasant surprise. She handled the myriad of responsibilities he threw at her with looked like relative ease. And her defiant attitude hadn't escaped his notice either. He didn't think she was aware of it, but she had a tendency to mumble under her breath. While he couldn't be absolutely certain, he was pretty sure she said something about gratitude and happy employees. And how money couldn't buy people good manners.
To him, it was a nice change from the meek and timid assistants he had scared away or fired for sheer incompetence in the past few years. She brewed his coffee too strong, no doubt due to her own caffeine addiction and her somewhat annoyed disposition.
He wasn't going to pretend he hadn't noticed her appearance, though he tried to keep his gaze on his work. She was a stunningly beautiful woman. He had realized that the moment he had laid eyes on her in the interview room the day before. There was something about her sharp cheekbones, gray eyes, and black hair that screamed of a strong personality and a sharp mind. Her frame was much more curvy than you generally found in fashion magazines, but the undeniably feminine figure was altogether too appealing to him.
But he had enough on his plate with work, and his incompetent brother, and the seemingly obsessed legal assistant he had taken out to dinner the night before. She had called eight times already. He was embarrassed for her. And even if it wasn't for all of that, he knew better than to ruin the one decent employee-employer relationship he had had for years.
And he was too old for her.
God, when did he get too old? Somewhere between college and the building of his headquarters or the merger with the East Trading Company that truly gave the company its financial security. Somewhere between knowing he had all the time in the world and, well... not.
Then there she was again with that harsh set to her eyebrows, his coffee cup in one hand and a manila folder in the other. She had a pen stabbed through the bun in her hair and a smudge of what looked like copy machine toner on her jawbone.
"Coffee," she said, placing it in front of him then dropping the obviously packed folder on the side of his desk, "and copies of all the mail responses." She picked up the pile of paperwork that needed to be faxed off his desk and cradled it against her hip. "Now about the housekeeper," she started, waiting for him to show some sign that he knew she even existed.
