9. He’s a Beast
Bailey
Almost four weeks have passed since I started this job and I haven’t gotten any better at it. The hours are way longer than I expected. Sacha loves to stay in his office well into the evening, which means I’m staying in the office until well into the evening too. It’s annoying at times, but at least my bank account is starting to look a little more flush.
I haven’t gotten any better with Excel. It should be simple, it’s just numbers in little boxes, but the program never quite does what I want it to do. I’ve already been told to stop sorting columns. But honestly, what are they there for if I’m not allowed to sort them?
Everything important has disappeared for the third time today, and Tatiana sighs a little louder each time I ask her for help.
“Ms. Thorn,” Sacha appears in the doorway to his office, “I need the notes from yesterday’s meeting.”
“Of course, sir,” I mutter.
“This is the third time that I’ve asked for them.” His eyes flash to Tatiana. “Is this a social visit? Ms. Thorn is behind on her work.”
“No sir, sorry. She’s helping me with this spreadsheet.” I come to Tatiana’s defense.
“Again?” he asks, but waves away my answer before I can form it. “Just get me the notes once Tatiana has fixed whatever needs to be fixed.”
“Right away, sir. Sorry, Mr. Kwatch, sir,” I say. “I just need to type them up.”
“You haven’t typed them yet?” He raises an eyebrow.
I physically wince.
“It’s fine, just, I need them as soon as possible.” His fingers drum along the door frame and takes a deep breath. “Can you add a meeting to the calendar? I need to see you in my office. Set it for four-thirty tomorrow, please.”
“Four-thirty on a Friday?” I squeak.
Tatiana gives me a beleaguered smile. We both know what a late meeting on a Friday means.
“I have some spare time then, don’t I?” Sacha asks.
I swallow hard. “Yes, sir.”
He nods curtly and ducks back into his office. There’s a sour taste in my mouth. I’ve been here before. A meeting last thing on a Friday? I’m going to get fired, for sure. I’ve done nothing but fuck up since I took this job.
I need this paycheck. It’s the best-paying gig I’ve had since, well, ever. I can’t lose it now.
“Yikes.” Tatiana shakes her head, her green dreadlocks moving almost like snakes. “That doesn’t sound great. Sorry babe, I’m honestly surprised you lasted this long.”
“Excuse you?” I scoff. Despite my ineptitude with Excel, I thought Tatiana and I were becoming friends.
“I mean,” she laughs at me in that way she can where it doesn’t feel like the joke is at my expense, “I can’t believe you put up with him. I’ve heard he does some disgusting things behind closed doors. The women who worked here before you told me some gross stories.”
“They did?”
“Surely you have some horror stories of your own?” she asks.
“Not really,” I venture.
“Ugh, I guess you are one of the lucky ones then. Personally, I make sure never to be alone in a room with him.”
Gross stories. Pretty obvious she’s talking about propositioning his employees. Sure, hitting on your assistants is wrong. It’s totally inappropriate, it’d make him a monster to hit on people who depend on him for a job.
But I don’t completely hate the idea of ‘working’ under him, or working bent over his desk, or working up against a filing cabinet. I’d work with him all night long.
“He hasn’t seemed that bad,” I say, thinking about the kittens, the new phone, the jacket. Yeah, he’s stared at my tits a couple times, but it’s probably fewer times than I’ve ogled those wide shoulders, or those big hands, or the way he rolls up his shirt sleeves when things are getting serious.
Tatiana moves the mouse and clicks a button that I swear I’ve already clicked about seven times, and everything in the spreadsheet fixes itself. “There,” she says with a sad smile, “and good luck, with whatever it is he wants to see you about. Maybe it’s nothing, but if you do get fired, Jacob and I will take you out and get you so drunk you won’t even remember that you lost your job.”
“Thanks.” I chew on my lower lip. I need this job, but would I really sleep with my hot boss to keep it?
When 4:30 on Friday rolls around, I’m still not sure what to expect. Sacha is either going to try to fuck me, or fire me. I feel certain of that. Even as I enter his office, I’m not sure which I’d prefer. Or if it would be feasible. Am I good enough between the sheets to make up for how abysmal I am with spreadsheets?
For once in my life, running away from my problems might actually be the right decision.
When I walk into his office Sacha’s back is to the door. I make sure to close it behind me so no one can hear us, whatever we’ll be doing next. I plop into the chair across from his large desk.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
He whirls around with irritation on his face.