Chapter 5
5
KYLIE
“ H ere you go, Mr. Monroe,” I say as I place his freshly brewed coffee on his desk.
I stand up and resist the urge to pull down my pencil skirt after it rides up a bit. I’m still getting used to wearing these clothes. If I could, I would walk around this office in leggings and a sweatshirt.
This is the start of my second week, and I’m still feeling like a fish out of water here.
I turn on my heel and start for the door.
“Miss Ricci, this coffee is warm,” his gruff voice says with contempt. “I don’t believe I ordered warm kopi luwak.”
Ugh, this man is such a snob with his coffee. He had all of these ridiculous requirements this morning with how he liked his coffee. I googled that kind of coffee, and it goes for four hundred dollars a pound. That’s insane!
“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realize it wasn’t exactly one hundred ninety-five degrees. I’ll try again.” I grab the coffee and meet his eyes with my own look of contempt. Two can play this game.
“I don’t pay you to be funny, Miss Ricci,” he replies in an efficient, clipped tone, like everything else about him.
“Of course not. My apologies.”
“You know,” he says before I can walk away, “kopi luwak is a delicacy. The Asian palm civet animal eats only the best coffee cherries. Their digestion doesn’t break down the coffee bean, so they then excrete it on the jungle floor. The beans are hand-picked off of the ground.”
I’m not sure my face can hide the disgust I feel as I try to understand why this coffee is so expensive. “You mean you’re drinking coffee beans that have been in an animal’s butt?”
He rolls his eyes like he can’t even fathom my inability to comprehend why that sounds appealing and goes back to focusing on his computer.
Before I walk away, I steal a glance at his forearms as he squeezes his fists. They are toned and have these amazing veins that become more prominent when he’s angry. He really is unnecessarily good-looking. No one has the right to look as good as him. Too bad it’s wasted on someone with his personality.
I ran to the restroom the last time when the coffee was brewing, which might have resulted in his coffee not being as scalding as him.
Note to self: bring the coffee directly to my boss so I don’t get his wrath from not meeting his desire for perfect temperature poop beans.
After I make a fresh pot, I place the new cup of coffee down and wait for him to take a sip.
He looks me up and down. “What are you doing?”
“I’m making sure your coffee is just right before I go back to my desk,” I say with the fakest smile I can muster.
I need this job, and I’m walking a fine line between my self-respect and providing the life my brother needs.
His dark eyes meet mine and remain fixed on me as he grabs the cup and brings it to his mouth. I can’t help but notice how his plump lips press against the cup while he takes a sip. They sure do seem soft and full and like they know their way around a woman's body.
“Better. I like to have a rundown of my day every morning. Go gather yourself. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”
That’s all I get from him. If I had more confidence in my ability to run in these heels, I would be sprinting to my desk. But I know I’ll end up face on the ground and ass in the air if I attempt to move too quickly.
I settle for a brisk walk to go gather my laptop. I’m back in his office in record time, though my breathing is labored, and I’m sweating everywhere now. I need to start working out if that short walk winded me so much. I’ll put it on the list of never-ending chores that will likely never get done.
I take a seat in the chair across from his desk as he leans back with his coffee in hand.
“You have a meeting at nine with Mr. Jeffreys from Steel Inc. I have the conference room set up and the projector ready for his presentation. That should take you to lunch, where I will order whatever it is you are in the mood for today. At one, you have a meeting with the marketing department to go over their ideas to compete with East Coast Air’s new commercial campaign.”
He snarls at the mention of East Coast Air, his number one competitor. I didn’t even know people snarled in real life. I thought that just happened in books.
“You have a phone call at three to listen to accounting’s month-end numbers, then dinner tonight with the board.”
If he has actual work to do, I don’t see where he gets time in his schedule to get it done. And this seems to be a mild day for him compared to the rest of the days this week.
“Make sure the conference room has fresh coffee and food. Something impressive.”
I glance down at the time. It’s eight thirty. How am I supposed to get food and freshly brewed coffee in there in the next thirty minutes?
“Where would you like me to get this food from?” I close my laptop.
He looks at me like I just asked him what a fork was. “It’s New York City, Miss Ricci. There’s food everywhere. Use your judgment.”
My lips twitch with suppressed frustration. “Of course, Mr. Monroe. I’ll find something impressive in thirty minutes. No need for advanced notice.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I trust you’ll figure it out.”
I inhale sharply as I walk out of his office. If I didn’t need this job, I’d tell him exactly where he could stick his vague request with no time to get it done.
By the time I am back from the nearest bakery with croissants, bagels, and pastries, Mr. Jeffreys and his employees are being led to the conference room by our knockout blonde receptionist.
I follow them into the conference room and make quick work to pull the trays out from the cabinet by the windows and arrange the food. After I do that, I get the coffee brewing in the fancy equipment sitting in the corner of the room.
Thankfully, I already placed individual waters at the seats in the room and had the projector going. Either way, I catch the distinct look of annoyance on Mr. Monroe’s face as I work to get the coffee cups out.
It’s not my fault he’s a pompous asshole who thinks of nothing but himself. Just because he had this grand idea thirty minutes before a meeting doesn’t mean I was physically able to pull it off before the clients got here.
I try not to let the feeling of failure hit me too hard, but the sudden urge to cry hits me. This isn’t how I expected this job to be. I figured it would be challenging in a different way, like not understanding the lingo or feeling inadequate without a college degree.
This is completely different. It’s like someone is purposely trying to make you fail. Like they are taking pleasure in watching you run around in a state of panic as you do everything in your power to please them.
I swallow the lump forming in my throat as I turn around with a forced smile on my face. One thing is for certain: I will never let a man like Mr. Monroe see me cry.
After the meeting is over, I hang back to clean everything up. They devoured the food I’d picked out, so I’ll take that as a win, despite his disapproving glares.
I head back to my desk to type up the meeting notes, just like the manual states. Some of the things discussed went completely over my head. I know nothing about the steel that goes into these aircrafts. I did my best to keep up with them, but I know there’s no way I got everything.
By the end of the day, I’ve almost cried several times as I push through typing up these notes. I’m completely out of my element. I hit Send on my email to Mr. Monroe and take a long, deep breath.
I can’t wait to go home. He has a dinner tonight at six, so he has to head out at a reasonable hour. I haven’t been paid yet, but I know my first paycheck will make all of this worth it.
On my lunch break, I even managed to get Benny an appointment with a speech pathologist. The ability to do that makes Mr. Monroe’s harsh words meaningless.
As I read through more of the binder about this position, I feel a dark, looming presence above me. He has that unmistakable frown on his face. I still can’t tell whether it’s his only look or if I’m failing that badly at my job.
“Miss Ricci, care to explain why I can barely follow your poor excuse for meeting notes?”
I glance down at the paper in his hands. I bite my lip as my pulse hammers in my ears. “I tried to adhere to the instructions in the manual.”
He exhales sharply. “If you followed them correctly, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“I’m just trying to learn the terminology used in those meetings. I don’t know much about the lingo in this industry. I’ll get better, I promise.”
He looks unimpressed by my response. “I’m not paying you to get better. I’m paying you to get it right the first time. If you aren’t up for the challenge, you know where the door is.”
My jaw hits the floor as he walks into the office like he didn’t just threaten my position in his company so casually. The feeling of not belonging here, not being smart enough, rises up into my chest again.
I don’t understand. I’ve basically taught myself how to do this entire job without any of his guidance. I get that there’s an expectation to be able to do the job, but this can’t be something any assistant knows the second week.
It’s going to take time for me to integrate myself into this industry. It won’t happen overnight.
Tears threaten to spill, and a burst of anger appears.
I’ve been through more than most people have by twenty-one. I’ve raised a kid when I was still one and managed to keep us off the streets, all while still taking classes. I’m not an idiot, and I won’t let him insinuate that I can’t do this job.
I rise from my chair and march into his office with a renewed sense of confidence. He’s on the phone as I walk in, and his jaw tightens as he watches me take a seat without asking for permission for his time.
“Let me call you back,” he barks into his phone, then sits up straight. “Miss Ricci, I’m not sure what kind of circus you worked at before, but barging into my office while I’m on the phone is completely out of line.”
“I’m not an idiot,” I interrupt.
He squints at me like he might not have heard me right. I can’t help but notice the lines that form at the corners of his eyes when he does it. It’s a nice feature on him.
“Excuse me? When did I call you an idiot?”
“You implied it, sir. It is completely unreasonable to expect me to understand the lingo in this industry within a couple of weeks. I don’t know about steel or how airplanes are built. I don’t know what the hell a nose cone or fuselage is. I have no idea what galvanized steel is. And not knowing those things without ever being exposed to them doesn’t make me incompetent.”
If looks could kill, I’d be falling out of my chair dead right now. The realization that I’m about to get fired dawns on me. I start to think about what that means. No more health insurance for Benny, no possibility of moving into a nicer place, no savings for college.
What have I done? I should’ve bitten my tongue and let him talk down to me all he wanted. This job could’ve changed our lives, and I had to go and ruin it with my big mouth.
I brace for the inevitable words to spill from his mouth. Two words that he has said to every assistant before me. I thought I’d be different.
“Is that all, Miss Ricci?” His voice cuts off the thoughts running through my head.
I blink rapidly as I try to understand what he’s saying. “I’m sorry, sir?”
“Is. That. All? Or can I get back to my phone call?”
“I … I …” I stumble over my words, not sure what’s happening. “Um, yes, of course. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
He nods his head, actually acknowledging me for the first time. I spring from my chair and jog back to my desk before he changes his mind. Is he really not going to fire me after I just spoke to him like that?
My heart is beating out of my chest. Maybe he’s just waiting until the end of the day to fire me. That’s a thing, right? I think I’ve seen it in movies.
It’s just after five when he comes out of his office. His hair is slightly disheveled, as if he was pulling at it while working for the last couple of hours. It’s weird how it makes my stomach flutter a bit.
Ugh, my body is such a traitor. How can it be attracted to a man who is about to fire me?
Instead of stopping at my desk to send my ass packing, he walks straight to the elevators like nothing happened.
Did I just manage to keep my job despite messing up my meeting notes and talking back to my boss? The same boss who’s been through three assistants already this month.
The entire way home, I try to figure out why he didn’t fire me. Then it dawns on me. He’s going to have HR do it. I’ll bet he put in a call to them already. Great. Now I won’t get a wink of sleep tonight.