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“Your office attire…”
I swallow back the heat on my face, forcing myself to focus. “What’s wrong with my office attire?”
“That’s Dior, isn’t it?”
I cock a brow, glancing down at the best skirt suit I own. Because just like last night when I was primping and shaving and, God help me,manicuringfor him, I’ve gone out of my way to dress in my absolute best for my first day here.
Which, again, is probably some sort of mental health issue I need to seek therapy for.
“It is. And?”
“A shame.”
I frown. “I’m not following—”
“Today, you’ll be unboxing all of these desks, chairs, and cubicle walls, assembling them, and beginning the task of setting this place up into a proper office.”
I stare at him. “I’m sorry, I’m doingwhat?”
His cold smile fades. “You’re doing whatever the fuck I tell you to do, in case you hadn’t really wrapped your head around that basic concept yet. And today, what I’m telling you to do is that.”
“You want me to be a handyman.”
“I’ll admit I prefer the Dior over baggy overalls and an undershirt, but sure. Call yourself whatever you want.”
“I…” I suck my bottom lip between my teeth. “I’m not exactly handy.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there. I’d get started if I were you. This is just the first shipment,” he nods past me at the gargantuan stacks of boxes.
My heart sinks.
“If you need anything…” His lips curl. “Well, actually, if you need anything, I trust that you’re intelligent and resourceful enough to figure it the fuck out for yourself. I’ll be in my office.”
He turns abruptly on his polished heel and strides back toward his glass castle.
“I… Sorry, do I have an office? Or, will I have an office?”
Deimos halts, turning slowly to level a cruel smile at me. “Of course you will, Dahlia.” He nods past me at the pyramid of cardboard. “It comes with some assembly required.”
I glare daggers at his back through the glass door as it shuts between us.
Asshole.
I start to tear open some of the boxes and organize the pieces I find by what furniture they are. The chairs look simple enough: just a frame that requires you to screw on a padded back and seat, along with the apparatus on the bottom for the five little wheels.
But as soon as I roll up my metaphorical sleeves and get to work, I hit a roadblock.
I don’t have a screwdriver.
Deimos glances up at the sound of my knock and sighs with exasperation.
“What,” he grumps.
I crack the door open. “Hi, yeah, I—”
“So I see you’renotresourceful enough to figure your shit out for yourself?”
I blink, taken a little aback at the sheer venom in his tone.
