9. Fiona
Chapter Nine
FIONA
Despite the obnoxious amount of deodorant I put on before I left my apartment, apparently it wasn't enough to keep the sweat at bay. I lift my arm up and subtly try to sniff because the last thing I need on my first day atSullivan Investments is to smell.
I don't think I've ever been this nervous in my life.
Even without the added pressure of being Lorcan's spy, working for Cormac Sullivan is terrifying in itself.
I lost count of how many outfits I tried on before finally settling on a navy dress that complements my eyes and doesn't suck what little color I have out of my skin, before heading out the door at eight a.m. sharp.
After turning myself into a sardine on the subway, I finally make it to the towering office block that is going to be my home for the next however long.
I quickly swap my sneakers for heels, and by the time I've collected my ID from the receptionist in the lobby and taken the elevator up to the correct floor, I am so nervous it feels like I'm walking to my own execution.
Though maybe that has something to do with the fact I am literally a dead woman if I don't do a good job...
My stomach is in knots as I make my way to Cormac's office.
I've barely been able to keep food down ever since I signed the contract, but there is no going back now. So, I take a deep breath and knock.
"Come in."
Plastering a smile on my face, I open the door and step inside. "Good morning, Mr. Sullivan?—"
"I expect you to be here at seven a.m. sharp." He doesn't look up from the stack of papers in front of him.
"Uh..."
"Something wrong, Miss Callahan?" He is still not looking up.
I don't remember reading anything in the email or contract I was sent about getting here at seven. Unless I was too blinded by the six-figure salary to notice?
Well done, Fiona. You're killing it.
"Nothing is wrong."
"If it's too early for you?—"
It's too early for anyone, unless you're a sociopath, which considering the fact that Cormac is still yet to make eye contact with me seems to be fitting.
"I'm a morning person," I reply with a chipper smile.
"I've left a stack of paperwork on your desk that will need organizing and filing."
"And my desk would be..."
"Not in here."
Charming.
I take that as my cue to leave.
It's not that I was expecting a fanfare or balloons. But considering the fact that Cormac and I are going to be working so closely, I figured he would at least make some effort on my first day on the job.
Already feeling deflated, I wander back down the hall toward the main work area, looking in all of the cubicles to see if one of them is mine.
"Fiona?"
I almost jump out of my skin at the sound of my name.
Clutching a hand to my chest, I turn around to find a girl around my age heading toward me.
She's tall, with rich brown hair down to her waist and tanned skin that I can only dream of achieving after two weeks on a beach somewhere. She moves with such grace, despite her tight-fitting gray dress that shows off her athletic frame.
My eyes flick to the stack of folders in her arms, and I sigh.
I have a horrible feeling those are for me.
She smiles. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."
"Oh, no, it's fine," I say, despite my racing heart.
"I'm Melody, the operations manager. Mr. Sullivan wanted me to give you these." She thrusts the stack of folders into my arms.
"Of course, he did. I don't suppose you know where my office is?"
She offers me a sympathetic look that tells me I am in for a hellish first day. "Your office is just down the hall; follow me."
Melody leads me into a reasonably sized office across the way from Cormac's.
It would have taken no effort for him to tell me that, so I make sure to shoot a scowl in his direction as we pass.
Inside, I find there isn't a window; however, the handful of potted plants scattered around the room does bring some life into the place.
There is also a small couch against one of the walls that I will likely end up using as a bed at some point, and a coffee machine displayed on top of a wooden cabinet on the other.
As promised, there is already a stack of paperwork waiting for me on the desk.
"Give me a shout if you need anything," Melody says before disappearing out the door.
"A hammer to hit myself over the head will be great," I mutter before taking a seat behind the desk and pulling one of the folders toward me.
I barely even have a chance to make use of the coffee machine because Melody stops by my office three more times over the next hour with more folders for me to sort through.
I don't really know what I'm supposed to be doing, so I settle for organizing the expense reports by date and hoping that Cormac will show his face at some point to tell me what exactly it is I should be doing.
But, of course, he never shows.
I catch him walking past a few times, which is not hard to do, considering the entire wall opposite my desk is glass, but he simply acts like I don't exist.
And to think I thought this man was hot.
Sure, he can rock an Armani suit. But it turns out, good cheekbones and a tight ass will only get you so far, because Cormac Sullivan is a grade-A asshole.
I have a feeling he's going to make my life hell, but I'm not going to crack. I might be severely underqualified for this role, but what I lack in skills, I make up for in sheer stubbornness.
When the clock hits five, I start packing up my things. If I'm expected in at seven tomorrow, I want to make sure I get home at a reasonable time and try to eat a proper dinner that doesn't involve a takeout box.
I'm mentally planning what I could make from the few basic ingredients I keep in the pantry when Cormac decides to make an appearance just as I'm slipping off my heels and pulling my sneakers out of my bag.
He throws open the door without so much as knocking to find me with my foot up on the coffee table and my skirt ridden up to the point where my entire thigh is on show.
His eyes flicker from my shoes to my thigh and back again, and I try not to visibly cower at the thunderous expression on his face.
"What are you doing?"
"Uh... Going for a run?" I joke as I straighten.
"I need you to compile the summaries from these board reports." He tosses another folder on the table.
"Now?" I stand straight and try to subtly pull down my skirt.
Cormac's eyes darken as he watches me, and my stomach sinks.
Today just keeps getting better and better.
"I'll get right on that."
"You do that."
He slams the door shut, and I release a breath.
I guess I'm eating dinner at my desk tonight.
I step off the elevator at five to seven the next morning, bleary-eyed and heavy-limbed.
The office floor is completely empty, which doesn't surprise me. Though what does is the fact that as I pass Cormac's office on the way to my own, I find the light is off.
The bastard isn't even here.
"You have got to be kidding me."
There is no sign of Cormac until almost nine when I catch him walking past my office, but, of course, he doesn't stop by to say hello. So, I'm left seething and plotting all the ways I could murder him slowly with a box of paperclips for the rest of the morning.
I'm sitting at my desk, picking through a sad-looking tuna salad sandwich that I picked up from the cafeteria when Cormac finally decides to come and acknowledge my presence.
Of course, he doesn't bother knocking. He just throws open the door and immediately scowls. "Do you know how to use a calendar as well as a clock?"
My jaw aches from clenching it so hard.
This guy really needs to work on his people skills.
I smile. "Yes."
"Let's hope so, because I need you to reschedule all of my meetings this afternoon to Friday."
"Friday..."
"As in the day that comes after Thursday."
I'm starting to see why Lorcan wants to take this guy down. He is a complete and utter pain in my ass.
"I meant Friday as in tomorrow? Or a week on Friday?" I say through gritted teeth.
"Tomorrow."
"Great, I can do that."
"Good, because it's what I'm paying you for."
I subtly flip him off under the desk as he leaves.
My afternoon is filled with similar interactions, leaving me completely depleted.
I realize that I got this job based on a fake resume, but what isn't fake is my excellent computer skills. Yet, after being continuously grilled by Cormac on basic things like reading a spreadsheet and being told that I'm incompetent, I'm actually starting to believe it.
It's past six, and I'm completely beat. My feet hurt, and after two days of surviving on nothing but coffee and adrenaline, I'm in desperate need of a decent meal and an early night.
I'm just about to shut down my computer for the day when Cormac graces me with his presence yet again. As usual, his expression is murderous, which tells me all I need to know.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Sullivan?"
"Where is the projection report for next quarter?"
"Projection report?"
"Yes. I emailed you about it this morning, and I still haven't received it."
He did?
"Uh..."
"If you can't manage a simple task such as printing off a document, perhaps you'd be better suited elsewhere."
My stomach sinks. "I'll get on it right away."
Cormac stalks from the room, and I scowl after him.
I know hate is a strong word, but I honestly can't think of a better way to describe how I feel about Cormac Sullivan.
I look back through all of the emails I received today and find no evidence of a report. I even check the spam and junk folder, but it's not there.
I'm about to take my laptop into Cormac's office to prove that I was right when my inbox pings with an incoming message from him.
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: Projection Report
I don't appreciate having to send this twice.
"And I don't appreciate the attitude," I mutter, opening up the attachment and hitting print.
Once it's finished, I snatch the report off the printer and head across the hall to Cormac's office.
His door is open, so I hover awkwardly in the doorway before knocking once.
He holds out a hand, the only indication that he heard me.
So, I force a smile as I cross the room and hand him the report.
But when I do, my fingers accidentally brush against his, and I almost let out a gasp at how warm his skin is.
I figured his skin would be just as cold as his heart, but apparently not.
His eyes flick up to meet mine, and for a second, we stare at each other.
My breath catches as I look into his eyes, so dark they're almost black.
But then he snatches the report out of my hand and looks away as if nothing happened. "You can leave now."
I don't need to be told twice. I quickly hurry from his office and go back to my own to gather my things, trying to ignore the fact that my fingers are still tingling from where they brushed against Cormac's.
How is it that I can despise a man and still find him so attractive?
It could have something to do with how well his suit clings to his athletic frame... Then again, I also haven't gotten any action in over a year, so at this point, I'm convinced Cormac could grow five extra toes and have hair sprouting from his ears, and it would make no difference.
He is a man, at the end of the day, with big hands, a perfect mouth, and thighs that look like they could crush me.
Great. Now it's not just my fingers that are tingling.
I lace up my sneakers and throw on my coat before heading out the door. I have to pass Cormac's office on my way to the elevators.
As I pass, his voice filters through the open door, and I stop in my tracks.
He sounds...happy?
I didn't think it was physically possible for Cormac Sullivan to even crack a smile. I wonder who he could be on the phone with that has made him suddenly have a personality transplant.
The only person who had the ability to change my mood in an instant was Freddy, but that was only because he was giving me regular orgas?—
"Oh my god," I whisper.
He has a girlfriend.
I don't know why this realization has my stomach turning into a block of lead.
Am I jealous? Is that what this feeling is?
"Don't be ridiculous," I mutter to myself.
There is absolutely no way in hell I am interested in Cormac.
I mean, sure, he has nice cheekbones and the kind of dark, piercing eyes that make it seem like he's looking into your soul every time you make eye contact. But so what? I'm sure other guys have those too.
And yes, I can appreciate the fact that his shoulders are the same width as my entire body, and I've occasionallywondered what he would look like without a shirt on, but that's it. I have never once imagined him without pants on or dripping wet in the shower?—
Someone clears their throat nearby, snapping me out of my Cormac-induced fantasy.
I glance up to find that someone is Cormac, glowering at me with those dark eyes. "What are you doing?"
Imagining you in the shower.
My cheeks turn the color of a ripe beetroot.
There is no way to hide the fact that I was listening in on his private conversation. He knows it, and I know it. So, I do the only thing I can think of.
"I-I was just...uh... Bye!" I practically yell in his face before sprinting toward the elevator, hoping that the ground will do me a favor and open up and swallow me whole.
As if it wasn't bad enough having Cormac think I was a complete idiot, now he's going to think I was spying on him.
I mean, I was, or rather, I am, but that's not the point.
Why Lorcan thought I would be the right person for this job when it's clear I have about as much subtlety as a bull in a china shop is beyond me.
I wonder if the deal with Lorcan will become void if I get fired...
I guess only time will tell.