Chapter 5
Elena
I groan as I hit the snooze button on my alarm for the fourth time this morning, not ready just yet to wake up from my dream where I marry my version of a prince charming, that so surprisingly is Gabriel - from the club Gabriel, also known as Gabriel, who wrecked my world and now all he does is occupy my mind.
I rub my eyes in hope to finally get up but I end up falling asleep a minute later and being woken up for my last alarm. Now it’s really time to wake up otherwise I will not have time to get ready or I will be late and the thought of being late gives me the heebie jeebies.
I look at the ceiling for a moment, my mind wanders back to the night with Gabriel. Nothing happened to be quite honest but the feeling of his lips on mine, the grip of his arm around my waist and my hair, all this is there like a permanent perfume. He is there on me like a tattoo. Might have been the best kiss I have ever had in my twenty-three years of living.
“Oh my god, what is wrong with me!” I shout at myself one last time before I jump out of my bed and get ready for the day by brushing my teeth, change my glasses to contact lenses, put on makeup, straighten my hair, and get dressed with the clothes that I picked out last night, and good thing I did because I might have had a crisis this morning if I hadn’t.
I chose a long, thin turtleneck shirt with a short black skirt paired with a brown jacket and jewellery and high knee boots to compliment it all and give it a neat finish look. I have always liked classic casual wear. And I love dressing up for the smallest things even if it is just to go to the grocery store. Fashion has always been a thing that I had a passion for but never wanted to pursue a career for. The next thing to fashion I love or used to love is art. I love how just a small portrait can express so many emotions and can tell so many stories. I admire how just one piece of art can represent different things for everyone. I see art just like life. There are always different sides to a story and the same goes with art.
My phone rings on my make-up table as I finish putting on my earrings, I pick up the phone, Reneé’s name flashes on the bright screen and I answer her call. “Hey Reneè, what’s up?”
“You are still at home?” She ignores my greeting and jumps right to her question.
“Yep, leaving in 10 minutes, why?”
“I have been awake since four am and have been here at the bakery since five and you are still casually getting ready at eight thirty am. It’s not fair if you ask me.”
“How is it my fault you chose to open your own bakery and my work starts at nine?”
“Have a little sympathy for me, Lena.” She complains on the other line and all of the sudden I hear a crash in the background which is followed by Reneè laughing.
“What just happened?”
“Miranda fell when she just put up the slippery sign herself.” She answers my question and continues laughing, calming my worry. I chuckle at her, grab my bag from my bed and head out of my apartment and make it to my car, continuing my conversation with her on the way.
“Reneè, I really have to leave, I will swing by at lunch to see you but also make sure to have my food ready by then.”
“Yeah yeah, I know the drill. An iced caramel latte macchiato with a warm bruschetta with extra tomatoes. I got you. Sipari?inizi art?k ezbere biliyorum.” I know your order by heart now
“Turkish. Since when?”
“I told you, Lena. Since I have been watching too many Turkish drama shows and I am loving them.” I laugh at her enthusiasm as she gives me a short summary of the newest show she watched. “Okay I have got to leave now. Kendine iyi bak, tatlim. bay bay.” Take care sweetheart. Bye bye, and I hang up, unlock my Toyota and step into the car, placing my bag on the passenger seat and buckle up.
I take a moment in the car, gathering myself as best as possible. The bracelets on my arm make a small noise as I wiggle my fingers and they attract my eyes back to my palm and what happened last night. I still have these small wounds that I made from my nails. They don’t hurt, just feel wrong. I shake any bad thoughts away and start the car. I drive out of the parking lot and make my way to my new workplace with the help of my GPS. I have lived in London my whole life and yet I am still unfamiliar with the streets.
Let’s hope that the boss is nice. I haven’t met him yet. I had the interview with his old assistant because she knew what he was looking for and she was the sweetest ever and only in her fifties. Seems like she decided to retire early. Good for her. Retiring early is always great.
***
Okay, Lena. One step after the other and walk towards the building and ace this job. You can do it, you are badass.
I always try to hype myself up when it comes to anything that gives me anxiety. Things like new environments and new places give me anxiety because of the change I have to adjust to. I take one step at a time and walk through the automatic doors, my eyes wandering around the inside of the huge building, the architecture is amazing and brilliant.
Harvey Co. Architecture is one of the oldest and most popular architecture firms not only in England but also expanded in some other countries in Europe. At first it was under a different name but that does not change its history.
All of the walls of the building are painted in white, while huge lights hang down from the wall, brightening up the whole place. My admiration drives me away from reality and I crash into a wall of muscles or maybe it was just a wall.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry-” I stop mid-sentence as I recognize the face of the wall of muscles I just crashed into. “Gabriel?”
“Isa?” He calls me an unfamiliar name and I keep the act as if I am Isa. I have no idea what came to my mind when I gave him a fake name but better safe than sorry because I am not up to having a stalker running behind me.
“What are you doing here?”
“I work here?” he questions me as I ask the stupid question.
How is he from Monaco back here?
I have to admit he does look good in a tuxedo. He is incredibly handsome, tall with brown hair, short on the side and sort of a little longer on top, combed to the side and his jawline defined so perfectly and it looks like it can cut ice. Don’t even get me started on his navy-blue tuxedo.
It looks like it was painted on him, perfectly tailored to his body. Basic porn is happening in my mind and I imagine me taking it off of him. Do not even get me started on the height difference that I didn’t notice when we met because he is a good head taller than me, like we are from a book. Did he maybe step out of a romance book?
“What are you doing here, sweetheart?” he asks me again as I didn’t hear him the first time as I was busy - and I hate to mention it - admiring him.
“I work here too.” I state, holding my head up high, trying to wipe away the nervous feeling at the pit of my stomach. Must be nerves of seeing him again.
“Since when? I have never seen you here?”
“Since today?” I answer his question with what seems an answer-question, confusing myself even more.
He looks at me in confusion before his expression changed as if something clicked in that little head of his. “Wait, are you the new assistant to the CEO?”
“Yes? why?” I ask in a rude manner. “Is the boss really that bad that I should be scared and think about quitting the job and moving out to another country so he never finds me? Please say no.” I panic and ramble on, which I evidently do a lot when I am nervous.
He chuckles and a smile breaks out of his lips, might be the most attractive smile I have ever seen. Dimples…
Focus, Lena.
“Have fun meeting him.” He taps me on my shoulder and I hit his hand away, he laughs at me.
I look up to him, crossing my arms over my chest, hoping it will make it less noticeable that I am slightly shaking from anxiety and declare to him that this isn’t funny. My eyes lose focus slowly as I stare at him.
Everything around me becomes blurry and the voices get quieter.
Focus back, Lena.
“I will leave now, and I’ll see you around.” He leaves just like I did that night at the club with nothing else to say.
Dick.
Nope, no bad words Elena. You were taught not to curse. Except at douchebags.
I take a deep breath, gritting my teeth and groan in frustration and find my way around the building to the front desk and she tells me the direction to the office. I make my way to the elevator and get to the highest floor, which is the twelfth and my motion sickness cannot take this because by the end of the ride, my head is feeling all wobbly and my stomach isn’t feeling the best, especially since I haven’t eaten or drunk anything except for a cup of coffee.
I should really see a doctor about that problem.
I take a deep breath before I open the door to the meeting room and see a huge table in the middle of the room with at least twenty other seats and one big one at the head of the table. No surprise that it is the boss’ seat.
“Miss Ferreira,” I hear a feminine voice call out for me at the end of the room beside the door that leads to the office of the CEO that I am assisting.
Oh God, there is no turning back now.
“Welcome dear.” The lady welcomes me with open arms - the same one I had the interview with. She is still here?
I wrap my arms around her, feeling welcome by her nice gesture. I pull back away from her, letting out a long breath, the nerves now really getting to me. She is a little shorter than me and she has the most beautiful blond hair I have ever seen and the brightest smile I have ever been welcomed with. I would work for her. She seems like a ray of sunshine.
“How have you been my dear?”
“I have been great, Mrs King. The spring vacation was much needed. How are you and how are the husband and kids?" I ask her, trying to start a long conversation so that we aren’t in silence and also that the time can pass and I do not have to meet my boss.
“You know, dear. Same old, same old but not enough time on the clock to chat, time for you to meet the boss.” She moves away from the door and stands behind me, she places her hands on my shoulders and squeezes them in comfort. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite.” she whispers to me. “At least not that I know of.” She winks at me from the side.
Well, that is comforting.
I walk into the office with Mrs King following and closing the door behind us.
“Miss Ferreira, a pleasure to meet you.”
I heard his voice again, for the second time today and I finally put the puzzle pieces together. If I could bang my head against the wall right now, I would.
Dear Lord, I kissed my boss at the club.
Instead, I stick with the most harmless method. I press my nails against the pad of my hand, my nails stinging my skin, feeling like I am almost drawing blood.
“Mr Harvey,” I call him by his last name to sound polite even if all I want to do right now is strangle that 1.96m man with my bare hands, who by the way is not wearing his suit jacket anymore and his sculpted upper body is clinging to the dress shirt. With a short glance I also caught the tattoos on his arm, he has ink tatted from his wrist to God knows where because the pattern disappears under his dress shirt.
I am being punished.
“It is a pleasure to finally be in your presence.” I lie through slightly gritted teeth, a hint of sarcasm hiding in my voice and I walk over to his desk and shake his hand that he so politely offered. I watch him as his eyes wander from my eyes to our hands back up and then to my face, as if he is checking me out or maybe I am just delusional.
“The pleasure is returned,” he says with a small smirk curled up on his lips, almost undetectable.
Oh my god, this is what clicked in his little head earlier, he realised I am his new assistant but didn’t say a thing.
What a bastard. There is the bad word again.
“Please take a seat and let us talk about your work here and then if you are up for it, I can tour you around.” I sit down on the stool in front of him and he nods to the back, excusing Mrs King, and sort of signalling her to leave. I want to tell her to stay because I do not want to be in a room alone with him.
The door closes and he leans back on his seat with his arms crossed over his chest, not saying a thing. I raise my eyebrow at him, forcing him to start talking because I will not be saying the first word.
“Isa? Seriously?” he questions me, the professionalism disappears in a blink of an eye.
“You could have been a serial killer. Or worse.” My boss for example.
“Why would a serial killer be at a party in Monaco?”
“To blend in?” I state the obvious.
“Then why lie to me when I literally had my tongue down your throat, darling?” He asks me, his thick English accent making the nickname sound so royal. It also made me hella blush. I love a good nickname but not when it comes out of his mouth. Right?
God, I want to strangle him.
“Let’s try to keep this thing between us professional and not talk about it, hm? Did I not tell you to act like you do not know me the next time we see each other?” I remind him of my last words to him at the club.
He lets out a low huff, gets up from his seat and I catch a short image of his veiny hands. Oh my god, what have I gotten myself into?
Is this hell? Am I being punished and if yes, for what?
I didn’t do anything, and if this is about that one drink at the club I had in college and the fact that I kissed him not two nights ago then I am so sorry but please stop the torture. I take a deep breath, keeping my thoughts straight and not getting distracted. I don’t need that.
“Are you coming?” He asks me as he stands beside the door, leading to the meeting room.
Nope, turn off your dirty mind, Lena. It’s not convenient at the moment. I get up from my seat and walk over to him, start wiggling my fingers to release the tension in them and start counting slowly from 100 down in threes.
100…
97…
94…
I hate this.
“Miss Ferreira,” he calls out my name and I cut him off immediately.
“Just call me Elena. I think we are past the formality phase anyway.”
“As you wish, love.”
I point my finger at him and he laughs at my fast reaction to the nickname. “Elena, nothing else, Gabriel.”
He raises an eyebrow at me, as if his name out of my lips is something unusual and euphoric for him. I huff in annoyance. “Lena. Nothing else.”
“I think I will stick with mine,” he whispers, leaning down to me so that we are eye to eye, taking my breath away with his cologne. Not in a bad way. His cologne smells great, a strong sandalwood smell. “After all, we are past the formality phase, which includes the professional phase, don’t you agree?” he whispers into my ear, his deep voice mixed with the accent sending shocking waves to my stomach. He is using my own words against me.
“Not that far past but definitely the awkward phase.” I mumble and laugh at myself and he smiles at me, moving away and giving me space to breath that I desperately need.
He hums, asking me to repeat my sentence and I just hum back at him.
“Let’s give you a tour, shall we?”
I mock his words in silence while he walks before me to the meeting room, reminding me of when the meetings take place. “Can I give you some advice?”
“No.” he answered without a second doubt. Rude.
“I will anyway.”
“I figured,” he cuts me off, I take a deep breath, trying to control my anger around this guy because he may make me slightly nervous with his presence but he is also making my blood boil with his cocky personality. And his face.
Why does it have to be so flawless? Couldn’t he have had some flaw? A wrinkle or something.
No, of course not. He had to have dimples.
“You should really add some colour to your, well let’s say life because the interior here is blank.”
“Blank?” He repeats my words in an offensive tone.
“Hmm, and by adding colour I don't mean by starting off strong with pink even though I would love to see you in Barbie pink. Your office,”
“What about my office?” He cuts me off. If I don't murder that guy soon for interrupting me, then I am playing nice.
“Paint it blue, a pastel blue and I don’t mean all of the walls. Like a stripe of a light blue paint over the white and change the curtains from a sad grey to an off-white." I suggested to him, the vision in my head looked fabulous.
“Are you seriously telling me how to keep my office?”
“Yes.”
“Let me guess, the next thing you will complain about is the decorations?” He asks me as if he is reading my mind. I hope he isn’t though.
“Bingo. You should really remove those animal sculptures because they look hideous and hang up photos on the wall. It can open investors' eyes if they see you are a family guy because they love supporting families.”
He takes a deep breath, massaging his temple in frustration. I smile at my accomplishment on getting on his nerves after he has been getting on mine. not just now but the whole weekend.
“Fine, any more wishes, princess?”
“No but do tell. Where is my seat in the meeting room?”
“My face, love.” and there it is, my heart explodes in my chest at his cheesy pickup line and the blood runs to my cheeks, colouring them maroon. I am not normally so easily swoon by guys but something about his thick accent and the way he says the words makes me want to not live anymore because this is torture.
Act cool, Lena. Be cool- “Is that a promise?” And don’t just blur out sentences.
“If you want it to, sure.” he shrugs his shoulders, his eyes wandering up and down my body, scanning me. His eyes burn holes on my body, a nervous feeling buries at the pit of my stomach as if a stomach bug is about to happen.
“You would love that, wouldn’t you?”
He smirks and shrugs with his shoulders not giving me a direct answer but one I can live with.