Page 11 of Last First Date

He turned around, looking down his nose at me. His nasty glare made me feel small and insignificant, an emotion I had never experienced under the leadership of Richard.

"Watch where you're going," he snapped.

Caught off guard, I mumbled an apology, and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. It was a stark contrast to the warmth and respect I had received from Richard. Knox essentially shooed me off as he walked away, leaving me standing there feeling small and out of place.

With a huff, I continued on my way back to my desk, my mind swirling with a mix of frustration, embarrassment, and a yearning for the good old days. The good old days when Richard was in charge, when I didn't need to wear these uncomfortable heels just to feel less dwarfed by my egotistical boss, when I felt valued. Even a coffee-fetcher deserved respect.

Once at my desk, I glanced back at Knox's office, watching him through the glass partition. Despite everything, the sight of him leaning back in his chair, running a hand through his tousled hair, sent awkward shivers down my spine. It was infuriating how this man could get under my skin in ways I hadn't known were possible. I turned away, slightly angry at myself for allowing his ruthless charm to affect me. I was here to work. He was my boss, nothing more.

I immersed myself in routine tasks, diligently plowing through endless piles of paperwork, answering phone calls and organizing meetings. Knox was a demanding boss, but at least he kept me busy. Throughout those hours, I deliberately avoided any unnecessary encounters with Knox. His rude reprimand had left a mark. It shouldn't have, but it did. It stung. He hurt my feelings. I was unwilling to subject myself to further belittlement. As I went about my tasks, Knox sent long, demanding emails, each one outlining a variety of tasks with unrealistic expectations of my time. He was testing me. I might be young, but I wasn't an idiot. The temptation to tell him to fuck off and walk out the door was strong. I didn't have to put up with his bullshit.

However, I was not one to back down from a challenge. My determination to prove my capabilities, not just to Knox but to myself fueled me. I threw myself into my work, tackling each task with vigor. The long emails were not going to beat me. But they were relentless. Each one detailed a new task or project that needed my attention, piling up to a mountain of responsibilities.

Despite the daunting workload, I couldn't deny the thrill it gave me. There was something about Knox's impossible expectations that ignited a fire within me. This wasn't just about proving my worth to him or myself anymore. It was a battle against my own limitations. Working for Richard had been pretty easy. He told me what he wanted and I made it happen. His schedule was fairly light. I fielded phone calls and arranged meetings. I knew what Richard wanted and could easily meet his expectations.

Knox, on the other hand, was an unknown. I knew he didn't like me. I saw it in the way he looked at me and the way he treated me. Yes, he was a dick to everyone, but I felt like he really disliked me the most. I had no idea why, but it was apparent he had a problem with me.

My desk became a battleground, cluttered with files, schedules, and a never-ending stream of emails. He was doing all he could to bury me. It only made me fight harder. His ruthless management style created an atmosphere of tension and stress. It was a stark contrast from the collaborative and respectful environment under Richard's leadership.

After a particularly challenging afternoon of dealing with Knox's incessant requests, I found myself needing a break. I went down the street to get myself a drink from Swig. Soda shops were popping up every week, it seemed like. I ordered a Daisy Duke and waited.

A thought crossed my mind, a question that had been playing on a loop in my head all day. Was this really what I signed up for? Was the paycheck worth enduring Knox's arrogance and disregard for basic courtesy? I questioned my decision to stay, my loyalty to a job that seemed to chip away at my sense of self-worth.

When I returned to my desk with my reviver drink in hand, a new email from Knox awaited me. The subject line was bold and demanding. I groaned when I read it was a demand to be in his office at eight a.m. sharp for an important meeting. Every meeting was important to him.

I sighed and shook my head. Knox's idea of urgency bordered on the absurd. But there was nothing I could do. I had my orders, so all that was left was to prepare for this meeting. God knows what he wanted to talk about this time. He provided no details and there was no explanation about the purpose of the meeting, which made it difficult to prepare for. It kept me on my toes, certainly.

But it wasn't just that. I had a feeling he liked his cryptic meeting demands because he wanted me to worry. He wanted me to wonder if I was about to get fired. It was all about him wielding his power over me. It was a battle of wills. He wanted to push me out. I wanted to go, but I hated the idea of losing. That and that alone was the only reason I wasn't going to quit.

6

KNOX

Ipulled my Lexus into the garage, parking alongside my grandparents’ matching Teslas, and killed the engine. It had been a long week. This place felt like I was in the backwoods, and it was starting to get to me. It wasn't exactly the sticks, but it was a far cry from the thriving metropolis I had left behind.

Today had been another reminder that I wasn’t in New York anymore. While in the middle of what I thought was a very important meeting, there were sirens. I didn’t even hear them but everyone in the room got this panic-stricken look on their faces. I didn’t miss the fact they all reached for their phones like they were expecting an emergency alert to come through to warn them of an apocalypse. That was when I realized they weren’t used to sirens in their sleepy little city. They were convinced they had to know whoever it was that was in need of EMS. It was weird.

The grandeur of the estate did little to fill the void left by Manhattan’s energy. I missed the hustle and bustle and the ceaseless excitement that had become a part of my daily life in New York. The transition from a thriving, noisy city to this place was proving to be more difficult than I thought it would be.

The quaint charm of my hometown proved to be a double-edged sword. I could understand why some people liked it here. It was clean with pretty surroundings. It went from desert to the mountains in a two-hour drive. Crime seemed to be nonexistent, and everyone seemed to know everyone despite the size of the place. People talked to me as if we had been lifelong friends. I honestly couldn’t tell if it was because they knew who I was from my modeling days or if it was because they knew me because of who my family was. It was a stark contrast to the anonymity I could enjoy in New York, where I could blend into the sea of faces without being recognized. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. My fame in my twenties still lingered but I wasn’t as recognizable as some other celebrities.

In this town, it wasn’t my modeling people remembered. It was my family name. The weight of my family's legacy pressed down on me. The Williams name seemed to precede me. It was a privilege that felt more like a curse. People asked me about my grandfather more than anything. I had the same pat answer—he’s enjoying retirement.

I missed the cold shoulders and scowls of people I passed on the street. Hell, I even missed the challenge of hailing a taxi in the rain, or when I was feeling really daring, I took the subway. I never thought I could miss the subway, but I did.

The decision to immerse myself in work seemed like a plausible solution. I could channel my energy into the business, make my mark, and distract myself from the persistent ache for the New York life I had left behind. The office became my refuge, a place where I could drown out the relentless cheerfulness of St. George and focus on the demands of the job.

I was on my way upstairs when my mother appeared from her sitting room. "I hope you don't have plans tonight."

I laughed. "No, Mom, I don't. I'm not sure if you're aware of the lack of a nightlife in this place, but no. I don't have plans. My exciting night will be spent watching Game of Thrones, again."

She smiled, not bothered by my surly attitude. "Great, then we'll go out for dinner."

"McDonald's," I muttered. "No thanks. I've been eating like shit since I've been here. I don't need greasy food."

"Stop," she chided. "There's a lovely Japanese steakhouse. You'll like it."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, no thanks."