Chapter 4

At precisely 2:30 p. m., Sebastian stepped out of the elevator on the 16th floor, his floor. He scanned the entire place (as usual), making sure it was immaculately clean. With his keen eye, he approached his secretary's desk, intending only to take a quick look, but instead, he found a mess. Disorder reigned at Lavinia's workstation. Chewed pencils, children's items, empty water bottles, a cell phone charger plugged into the switch but unused, and worst of all, a halfeaten sandwich lying next to the keyboard.

Absolutely disgusted, he took a few steps back. What kind of pigsty was this? Was this how his secretary greeted people? He couldn't stop shaking his head. How hadn't he noticed it before? How shameful that his clients had to see this...

And then Lavinia appeared, walking calmly with her slender figure and her outfit of a short skirt and a transparent white blouse that revealed details of her bra, something absolutely unnecessary for an office.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Ashcombe. Is there anything I can do for you?" he greeted with a forced halfsmile; his presence terrified him.

"This isn't your living room, look at this mess," he said, pointing at the desk in disgust.

"I was about to finish my lunch," he explained, ignoring her indignation.

"Having lunch at your workstation? Did I hear right?"

"Yes, it's just that.." She suddenly remembered the rules and didn't know what to say.

"I want her in my office in TWO MINUTES."

"Of course.."

"And don't bother coming tomorrow if your attire isn't appropriate." She points to the blouse, hiding her disapproving grimace.

"What's wrong with my clothes?" she asked, offended, defending her good taste in clothing until death.

"My office in TWO MINUTES."

Furious at Lavinia's audacity, he stormed down the hall toward Eleanor's desk, fully intending to continue his tirade and find something to reprimand his assistant for, but she was so engrossed in her work that she didn't even notice him. She was on the phone, calling each contact in her address book to confirm the information she already had.

Good.

That's what he wanted from all his workers. Discipline.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he headed to his office. He needed his order, so as soon as he was inside, he unbuttoned his jacket, walked over to his desk, and sat down in his comfortable reclining chair. He pressed a key on his wireless keyboard, bringing his computer screen to life. He hated disorder and the staff feeling entitled to do whatever they pleased; he was frustrated and wanted to hold someone accountable.

When Lavinia arrived at the office, he was calmer but just as displeased, his brow furrowed, his perfectly sculpted face contorted in anger, his square jaw perfectly shaved, his full lips forming a fearsome straight line. She watched his clumsy movements as he tried to appear calm, moving to stand before the desk, nervous and uncomfortable under his reproachful gaze.

"So he doesn't have any trouble telling time after all—Sebastian remarked sarcastically, seeing that it took him no more than the two minutes he had been given to get to the office."

"I wasn't feeling well this morning, sir, I asked Eleanor to.."

"Silence! I haven't given you permission to speak!" He raised his voice in an intimidating tone.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, looking nervously at her hands.

"Do you realize what a pigsty your desk is?"

"I already threw away the sandwich," he reported, as if that solved everything.

"There's trash, chewed pencils, everything's a mess. If she's a child, that's her business. I don't want to see anything that isn't companyrelated to her job. Am I being clear?" he hissed through gritted teeth.

"But... why? I work there," he protested brazenly, as if he had the right to do so.

"what's your job?"

"Secretary," he said haughtily.

"Whose secretary is she?"

"From you, Mr. Ashcombe," he replied, chin held high.

"And who am I?"

"The boss," he grumbles, refusing to admit his mistake.

"The boss, the public face of the company, meaning that when big businessmen or important clients come to see me, the first thing they see is, "Who is it, Miss Mercer?"."

"... his secretary," she murmured, blushing, understanding the reason for his anger.

"My secretary! Therefore, I don't want to see anything like that ever again, with eyes on her workspace, and throwing away those chewed pencils, and eating over the keyboard... it's unacceptable."

"I'm sorry sir, I'll throw it all away."

"Yes, of course he'll."

Without saying a word, Lavinia turned around, hoping to escape, believing the challenge was over. But no. Before she could take more than three steps, he stopped her with a horrible comment.

"If your intention is to dress like a slut, then you're in the wrong job."

Jawdropped, she turned away, trying to bite her tongue to avoid insulting him for that offense.

"What did you say, Mr. Ashcombe?" She tried not to yell at him that he was a fucking idiot with too many privileges.

"The dress code is quite well stipulated in the company regulations, so don't look at me with those offended eyes, because I'm just saying what I see."

"You're disrespecting me," she hissed through gritted teeth, holding back.

"No, of course not, it's you who's doing it by disobeying, so save your arrogance for someone who cares." Declared Sebastian, his gaze fixed on his secretary's slightly reddened face.

"Can I leave now?" Lavinia grumbled.

"No, he stays there and remains silent."

Ignoring Lavinia's presence, he picked up the phone and dialed the internal line that connected directly to Eleanor.

"Mr. Ashcombe, what can I do for you?"

"To my office, now," he ordered.

"Yes sir."

In half a second, Eleanor entered the office, notebook in hand. She knew it wouldn't look good if he called her while he was reprimanding Lavinia, so she simply approached the desk and waited for instructions.

"Very well, I'll be clear. VERY CLEAR, Miss Mercer," he began, now that Eleanor was present. "If you arrive even one minute late to work again, don't bother staying. Be aware that you'll no longer have your comfortable, mediocre job. Because if you were looking for an explanation as to why your application for the position of MY ASSISTANT was rejected, there's your answer: you lack initiative and are disastrously unpunctual."

Letting out a stifled cry filled with indignation at the blatant way he was treating her, Lavinia glanced at Eleanor, hoping she would intervene on her behalf, but before their eyes could even meet, Sebastian continued his bad mood.

"And Miss Hartley, I don't want you covering for Miss Mercer again, or you run the same risk of being fired. Today was the last time you lie for her. I don't want to lump you in with the "irresponsible" group. I know you're not, quite the opposite, so no more covering for your "friend," or whatever your reason for doing it's. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mr. Ashcombe," he answered, looking him in the eyes.

"Very well, inform Helena that Miss Mercer will be visiting her to sign the notice of misconduct and repeated tardiness, and that she should give her a copy of the company regulations, highlighting the dress code. Suggestive or vulgar attire isn't permitted," she concludes with all the ill intent in the world.

"Right away, Mr. Ashcombe." He nodded as he finishes writing everything down in his notebook.

"You may leave."

"With your permission, Mr. Ashcombe."

Without waiting for Eleanor to leave the room, she continued her retaliation against her secretary.