Chapter 2

"Good morning, Mr. Ashcombe. Did you've a good weekend?"

Eleanor greeted him, biting her tongue and pretending she wasn't on the verge of collapse.

"No, and it was thanks to you."

He pointed at her with the index finger of the hand holding his briefcase, pinning her with that savage black gaze.

"Excuse me? How could I've ruined it?"

"You failed to confirm my attendance at the Crescent Theatre investors’ dinner. The manager had to intervene before they would let me in," he said, visibly annoyed.

"There was a misunderstanding. I confirmed it three weeks ago and even spoke to the organizers to make sure they did not serve you anything containing nuts or oregano."

"Anyway, you've to be alert."

"It won't happen again, sir."

He turned toward his office, grabbed the door handle, and looked back at his assistant.

"Nice outfit. You finally got something right."

Surprised by his audacity, Eleanor drew a breath before answering.

"Whether you like what I'm wearing or not doesn't mean it's ugly or pretty. Maybe you're the one with strange taste in women's clothing," she replied without hesitation. She wasn't going to let him criticize her outfit.

"Women's clothes?" he repeated sarcastically. "Please, you're just a little girl."

"A little girl who knows how to do her job perfectly well."

She bristled at being called a little girl.

"Oh yeah? What happened to Saturday's reservation then?"

He turned fully toward her, wearing the arrogant expression that made everyone uncomfortable.

"the organizers made the mistake. I'll forward you their email explaining what happened."

"Your mistake," he insisted.

"From the organization."

Exasperated, she did what she always did: counted to ten. If that insufferable man were not her boss, she would have told him exactly where to go a long time ago.

"As you wish, Don Sebastian," she replied with a small smile.

"Don?" he asked, his ego bruised.

"Yes. You know, out of respect for my elders." She shrugged with feigned innocence.

"At your...? DID YOU JUST CALL ME OLD?" he yelled, losing his composure.

"No, of course not, sir."

And he was already angry. That little vein in his temple bulges every time he gets mad! Ha! Eleanor laughed to herself, "You're not the only one, Mr. 'Because I said so,' who can make fun of people."

"Stop wasting time leaning against my secretary's workstation and get ready to do my schedule."

"Of course, sir. I'll start work as soon as it's 8 a. m."

He blurted it out with as much sarcasm as possible. Take that, you conceited jerk!

"Where is Miss Mercer?" he snapped, ignoring her insolence.

"In the bathroom," she lied.

"Go get it now, and don't give me that "you're not on duty yet" excuse, I'll pay you overtime."

"Of course, sir."

Giving her the most angelic of smiles, she headed towards the bathrooms at a brazenly slow pace.

"For today, Miss Hartley!"

He shouted, making sure the parking attendant heard him clearly. But Eleanor didn't bother turning around; the slam of the door that followed the shout made it perfectly clear that he'd locked himself in his Batcave.

"Lavinia!" she shouted from inside the women's restroom, knowing no one else would be there at that hour. "Damn it! Where have you been, woman? On the one Monday a month when it's absolutely essential that you arrive on time, you oversleep!"

Continuing her venting by talking to herself in the bathroom, Eleanor paced back and forth, expressing everything she wanted to say to her friend as soon as she saw her. And as if that weren't enough, her friend wasn't answering her calls. She took turns sending her rude text messages and repeatedly trying to reach her on the phone.

It took 20 minutes to respond!

"Ellie! The power went out on the subway, I'm trapped!"

It was the first thing she heard when she pressed answer on her cell phone screen.

"Lavinia, it's 8:20 in the morning! I told the sexy ogre you were in the bathroom!"

"Tell him I'm throwing up nonstop. I'll take off my makeup so I look sick." Lavinia already had the perfect excuse planned.

"Yes, paint on some dark circles under your eyes, you lazy bum! I can practically hear you running down the street from here, you liar."

"Oh, Ellie, you can handle Mr. Ashcombe. Cover for me, please, please, please," she whined in a little girl's voice.

"I don't know what else to do. I already lied to him and said you were in the bathroom." Eleanor sighed anxiously.

"Tell him you saw me throwing up in the bathroom, and then I disappeared. You've already lied enough for me this month," Lavinia reminded her, shamelessly pressuring her to continue.

"That's not nice, I hate lying to people."

"This will be the last time, I promise, Ellie."

"He's going to kill me when I tell him you're not here," Eleanor insisted.

"Oh, it's not that bad," Lavinia grumbled, hearing her friend's disapproval.

"Rot in hell, you irresponsible person!"

Eleanor hung up. She didn't need to hear Lavinia insist that she lie again. She knew she would. Eleanor counted to ten, steadied her breathing, and left the bathroom, still fuming. She straightened her jacket, collected her things from Lavinia's workstation, returned them to her own desk, and headed toward Sebastian's office.

"Come in right now!"

The melodious and angelic voice of his little boss shouted.

Sebastian was sitting comfortably behind his desk reading the news on his iPad, wearing those thickframed glasses that suited him so well (you know, the typical RayBans).

"I'm sorry to interrupt your reading, Mr. Ashcombe, but Lavinia is unavailable. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Looking up from his reading for three seconds, he glanced at Eleanor; he knew she was covering for the secretary again.

"Are you preparing the reports for the meeting?"

He asked without taking his eyes off his iPad screen.

"There are 30 copies, I started printing them as soon as I got to the office. Should I bind yours too?"

"No, in my personal folder."

"Of course." She sighed in relief that he didn't ask for more details about Lavinia.

"I need you to verify the addresses in my address book; I want a complete update. Please call all contacts to make sure the information is correct."

FUCKING SEBASTIAN ASHCOMBE, I'D KICK YOUR BATICLE! That's 130 contacts!

Eleanor screamed at the top of her lungs to herself. He always did something like this when he was angry, overload her with work.

"And since you're still standing there wasting time, I'd like another cappuccino, this one's cold — she points to the cup with a grimace of disgust—. you've 3 minutes." She holds up her hand showing three fingers.

Like a bullet, Eleanor sprinted for the mug to escape that office. Now she had to find someone in the break room to help her with the cursed machine. But everyone starts at 9 a. m.! What a cursed Monday she'd gotten, that was all she could think about. Monday's bad luck foreshadowed the worst week of the month.

And there it was, the damned cappuccino machine, with its shiny armor, its gadgets, and its damn expensive coffee beans. Why doesn't he just have a cup of coffee with a splash of milk on top and be done with it? Why did he have to get stuck with such a "fussy" boss? Everything sugarfree. Light. Lowcalorie. Transfat free. Nobody's going to take that fat ass off him!

"Ellie, can I help you with the coffee?"

Yes, the slimy voice of the socalled "womaneater" in the office sounded to him like a choir of angels singing.

With a dramatic sigh of relief, she smiled before turning around to find Miles, leaning against the door frame in a seductive manner, with that several days old beard and his newly sharpened fangs.

"Miles, you've no idea how happy I'm to see you right now! You're my salvation!"

"You know, darling, that if you want me, you've got me."