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01

It had been 7 o’clock when Elizabeth entered the office. Smiling to herself as she walked over to her desk. Nearly every day for the last three years she had entered this office exactly one hour before her boss would.

Today however she didn’t know if she would see her ‘boss’ in an hour. Mr. McGregor jr. Was quite unpredictable. Yesterday she had avoided him on purpose, feeling that his first time back in the office should be without her.

She had only met the guy once. It had been in her first month working there and in all honesty, she really did not want to be reminded of it. Closing her eyes as if to rid herself of that old memory.

Though she did only meet the guy once, she had read enough about him to feel like she knew him. Every now and then he would pop up in one of those gossip magazines, being a dick like usual. Even the way he had treated his own father told her that he was no good.

Once she opened them she looked at the clock noting that it was 7:10 am, meaning that she’d have to get started.

It was eight o’clock on the dot when McGregor walked out of the elevator. His nostrils immediately filled with the smell of freshly made coffee. He looked around trying to spot the person who made it but found no one there.

He walked over to the office and sat down behind the desk. On the desk stood a cup of coffee and right in front of him lay a note.

Dear Mr. McGregor,

You are expected to be at a meeting today on the third floor at 9 o’clock. Before that, you’ll need to read the paper on located on your right. (He looked to his right and saw indeed a paper lying there.) After that, you have a lunch appointment at the Pompadour. As for the afternoon, the reading of Mr. McGregor’s last will and testament will be done at 3 pm.

I will be out today taking care of several wishes of Mr. McGregor sr. In case you need me, call or text the number on the back of this paper.

Yours Faithfully,

Elizabeth Waverton

PS. The coffee was made at 7:57, black with no sugar.

He scoffed turning around the piece of paper. ‘Who the hell does she think that she is?’ As said in the letter there was a phone number written there, quickly he took out his phone and entered the number.

For a moment he wanted to call her but then decided against it, instead, he saved the number on his phone and started reading the paper.

It was around eleven o’clock when James left the meeting. He knew that after that he as supposed to go to lunch, but she hadn’t written down what time. So he decided to actually call her.

He took the elevator up to the top floor and was just about to call when the door opened and he saw a young auburn haired woman sitting behind the desk.

At first he thought he was being ignored when he saw that she was on the phone. “Mr. Scanlon, with all due respect, this was arranged months ago,” she said in an angry tone.

“I don’t care, Mr. McGregor wants the red.”

James looked at her surprised at her tone of voice. When he first saw her she had seemed different somehow, not fragile but also not like the way she was now.

The woman was wearing a dark green body con dress that he guessed would end right above the knee. She wore small pearl earrings and a dainty watch on her wrist.

Her auburn hair had been put into a neat bun on top of her head. She wore red lipstick which seemed to be just right for her and just right with the rest of the makeup.

This without a doubt had to be the ‘perfect’ personal assistant. He had always heard a lot about her from everyone. Most people that were in business with his father, or friends of him, knew the young lady and they all adored her.

According to his fathers best friend, she could make a reservation at any restaurant, even if it was packed full. Another one of his friends once told him that she could speak four languages.

He didn’t know if he believed all they said about her, but her knew that even the competition absolutely loved her.

It wasn’t until she was standing right in front of him that he had noticed she had finished her phone call.

“Good Morning sir.” She started with no emotion, not even a smile on her face. “Your coffee is on your desk as is a copy of your schedule for tomorrow.” She said as the two of them walked over to his office. For a moment he listened intently seeing what she was made of but he soon had enough.

“Where were you yesterday?” He said cutting her off. “I beg your pardon?” She said furrowing her brows.

“I will only say this once more, where were you yesterday?” He said steadily getting angry. “I had a personal day.” She replied straightening up.

“A personal day?” He scoffed, “You’re a personal assistant, they don’t get personal days. You are supposed to be here at my every beck and call.”

“Mr. McGregor, I am not a lap dog.” She said her tone changing ever so slightly.

“O I think that is exactly what you are-“ He started but was cut off by a very angry Elizabeth.

“I am not a lap dog! And I am not your personal assistant. I am, I was Mr. James McGregor sr. Personal assistant. I will not, not now or ever be your personal assistant. I have already handed in my two weeks notice a week ago.”

“You did what?” He said looking menacing.

“You heard me. By the end of the week, I’ll be gone don’t worry.” She said straightening her dress.

“Now to get back to current business. The Young deal has been taken care of and Mr. Young has invited you over to have dinner tomorrow night. As for the gala, most things are prepared, I do need your opinion on the meeting arrangement but other than that it is all done.”

With that she started to walk away only to turn around and say:

“Oh, and your lunch reservation is at 1 o’clock.”