Chapter 3
HANNAH, THERE’S SOMEONE here to see Val Wouters. He says he has an appointment, but I’m not seeing his name in the calendar, says the voice coming through the phone.
I was just writing an email to Val with a friendly, yet urgent request to stop treating Michael like a hand-me-down toilet brush. Michael came out of Val’s office fifteen minutes ago with a trembling lower lip and he’s been staring at his screen like a near-sighted zombie ever since.
What’s the name? I ask, pulling up Val’s calendar.
Hendrik Van Rijn.
Hmmm, I’m not seeing any Hendrik. Hang on, I’ll go ask.
Thank y—Hey, what do you think you’re doing? I hear from the other side of the line.
I frown in confusion. Uh, nothing, I— A fumbling noise comes through my headset, followed by an indignant huff. Mona, what’s—?
Hannah! Mona interrupts me. He isn’t cleared to be in the building, but he just got on the elevator. He’s on his way up to the fifth. Can you try to intercept him? I’m calling security.
On it! Pushing my office chair back, I can already hear the melodious ding of the elevator.
I turn my head to see the doors glide open in slow motion as a tall, broad man steps onto our floor.
He’s wearing a dark blue tracksuit and sneakers.
His blonde hair is messy and his bright blue eyes dart around in anger.
For a moment, I’m frozen in my seat, before jumping up to rush over to him.
Good morning, I say in my friendliest voice. How can I help you today?
The man squeezes his eyes into a squint and plants his hands at his waist as he carefully takes in the sight of me. You could get out of my way? he grunts, shifting his eyes toward Val’s office at the end of the hall.
Val is still fully focused on his screen, completely oblivious to it all.
I stand my ground. I’m sorry, but you’re not authorized to be on this floor, I say without missing a beat.
A mocking smile appears on Hendrik’s face, but his eyes are throwing flames. Do I look like I give a single shit? he sneers.
Michael comes out from behind his desk to join me.
Call security, he whispers, as the man looks us up and down, opening his mouth to speak. He’s the bull and Val is his flapping red cape.
WOUTERRRS! he roars at the top of his lungs.
Val looks up, his eyes wide with fear, before he scrambles up from his chair and out of his office. The man passes around us, then heads toward Val with angry, determined strides. Val puts up his hands defensively.
You! Hey you! Asshole! Hendrik shouts.
I cock my head to one side. The man isn’t wrong. Val is an asshole. An asshole who’s about ten seconds away from a shiner, judging by the size of his adversary’s fists. Val’s eyes flit from the man to me and back, like he’s once again reading my mind.
Does the name Lotte Havelaar mean anything to you? Hendrik asks him.
Val shakes his head, seeming caught off guard.
She went back to your place a few months ago . . . You spent the night together . . . Ring any bells?
Val finally clues in. Uh . . . How do you know about that? he asks hesitantly.
She’s my girlfriend, asshole. My girlfriend just casually told me today that she cheated on me. With you. A guy in shiny shoes and tailored suits. He spits out those last few words like someone’s force-feeding him ground-up worms.
For fuck’s sake. Is truly not one single living being with a penis to be trusted?
Val gives him a wide-eyed stare, sheer terror written all over his face. I’m sorry . . . he says sincerely. It was just a one-night thing and I had no idea she had a boyfriend.
So him behaving like he’s made to suck a dozen lemons every half hour has nothing to do with a lack of sex. I guess I can cross that theory off my Potential-Reasons-Why-Val-Is-a-Miserable-Bastard list.
I wonder if it might be better for you to discuss this with her. I mean, I don’t really have anything to do wi—
Before he can finish, Hendrik squeezes his hand into a fist and smashes it into Val’s nose with such force that I swear I hear a cracking sound.
There’s a brief silence before Val grabs hold of his nose, blood gushing out of it as he lets out a furious cry.
At that exact moment, security comes running out of the stairwell, grabbing Hendrik by the arms as they usher him away with a satisfied grin on his face.
Val’s eyes are the size of saucers, as if he can’t quite believe what just happened.
Everyone else has gotten up from their work stations to bear witness to the proof that Val is an actual human being as his blood drips down onto the floor. He pinches his nose and gives everyone a pissed-off glare.
Dhere’s dhothing to see here, he snaps, gesturing for everyone to get back to work. And then he looks over at me. Haddah? First aid kit?
On it, I reply, and I begin to saunter toward the elevator.
Dohd’t hurry od my behalf, I hear him mumble in irritation as he pulls his office door closed behind him.
News of Val’s altercation with Hendrik spreads like wildfire through the building. When I arrive at the facilities management office to pick up a first aid kit, there’s already one waiting for me on the counter.
First aid kit for Wouters, right? Rosalie asks me with a wide grin as soon as I walk out of the elevator.
Yep. Karma just paid him a little visit.
She passes me the box and leans in a little.
It really was only a matter of time. That man looks like the lovechild of Angelina Jolie and a Greek god.
He definitely played that to his advantage as often as possible before taking over the company.
Rosalie lowers her voice to a whisper before letting the rest of the juicy details slip.
I fold myself a little further over the counter to hear what she has to say.
This was before you worked here, but he used to come in all the time with lipstick marks all over his neck.
I look at her with surprise. Val—the guy who calls people out for showing up even a single minute too late—used to walk-of-shame his way around these office hallways?
Seriously? I ask. Are you sure we’re talking about the same Wouters?
Anyway, eventually his father had had enough. Either Val would start keeping his disco stick in his pants or his dad would start looking for a new successor.
I give her an amused look. Disco stick?
Oh yeah, he used to have zero control over that thing, Rosalie tells me in a conspiratorial tone. After his dad gave him that ultimatum, he really slowed his roll. Maybe that’s why he’s such a grouch now. Although it could just be the stress. His father was never exactly jolly either.
He wasn’t like this before, then?
A sing-song of a laugh rises up from her throat as she replies.
No way. Sure, he was a little introverted, but always cheerful.
The women around the office couldn’t help but fall for him.
Such a shame that he acts like a 60-year-old with prostate issues these days.
He’s only 33. She gives her head a disapproving shake.
I give her an intrigued look. That mention of women around the office suggests there’s a wealth of other Val-related tidbits tucked away under Rosalie’s blonde hair.
Has he ever dated anyone at work?
Rosalie’s cheeks flush and she looks at me with shock.
Absolutely not, she replies. He’s always been very clear about that.
He insists on keeping all employee relationships strictly professional.
She raps her bright red nails on the counter, lowering her gaze.
When she looks up again, her eyes are narrow.
So, I don’t know if you were planning on trying anything, but—
Oh please! I cut her off, bursting into laughter. I’d rather have a root canal without sedation while listening to Who Let the Dogs Out on rep—
Rosalie interrupts me with flapping hands as she stares over my shoulder with big, scared eyes. Before I even see him, I can feel him standing behind me and I cringe.
Thanks for that vivid imagery, De Haas. Judging by the tone of Val’s voice, he caught exactly enough of that statement to know that I’d rather let a dentist root a needle around in my jaw than ever go out with him.
Rosalie clasps her hands to her face, shaking her head.
Turning around slowly, I find myself looking straight into a pair of steely grey eyes.
A shiver courses through me. That glare of his could make it snow in the Sahara.
Never breaking eye contact, he reaches around me to the box on the counter.
His nose has stopped gushing red liquid, but there’s dried blood around his nostrils, giving him an extra menacing vibe.
So kind of you to hurry back with that first aid kit, Hannah. What exactly was your thought process there? Val will just stop bleeding on his own eventually?
I open my mouth to apologize, but also to point out that that’s exactly what I was thinking.
He’s already heading back toward the elevator, though.
He’s walking his all-too-familiar angry walk, the one that always results in employee tears.
I swallow and he looks back over his shoulder, his gaze cold and calculated.
Are you coming? We need to start planning that London trip, he says flatly.
I give Rosalie a scared look. I’m not convinced I’ll make it back to the fifth floor alive if I join him in a tiny enclosed space. She seems to share my concern, watching me with concern in her eyes as I turn to follow Val. The elevator doors glide open and we step inside.
It feels like an eternity before the neon number above the door finally starts to count down from twelve to eleven.
Val rifles through the kit to find some gauze wipes that he uses to clean the blood from his nose.
He’s only a few inches away from me and the fine hairs on my arm stand to attention.
I’m afraid to look over, but I just know the little muscle in his jaw is throbbing.
After an awkwardly long silence, he finally begins to speak. Hannah, you absolutely cannot talk about me like that. He sounds surprisingly calm.
I’m honestly a bit stunned. I had assumed this elevator ride would set me up with a brand new inferiority complex.
He seems tired and there’s an odd look in his eyes.
Almost like he’s disappointed in me. An awful feeling settles in my chest as I take in the sight of him.
His beautiful eyes search my face, scanning for something that might contradict the words I said just moments ago.
But then he drops his gaze and heaves a deep sigh.
Running a hand through his hair, he shakes his head slowly.
I know I’m not always the nicest person to my employees, he continues.
But I want you to be respectful when you speak about me.
I’ve come to take your smart-ass remarks in stride since you’re good at your job, but you’re my assistant and you’re the person I work most closely with.
It sends a negative signal when you talk to other employees about me in that way. It’s bad for morale.
I slowly exhale the breath I was apparently holding the whole time he was speaking. Val gives me an inquisitive look. I decide not to mention that dropping his iron-fisted dictator act would be even better for morale.
You’re right. I’m sorry, I finally reply.
His expression softens and he nods. Thank you.
The elevator arrives at the fifth floor and the doors swish open with their familiar melodious ding.
Oh, and Hannah?
I look at him with curiosity.
I promise I’ll try my best not to treat Michael like a hand-me-down toilet brush moving forward, he concludes, the right side of his mouth lifting just the tiniest bit. There’s a playful twinkle in his eyes that I’ve never seen there before.
Thank you, I reply with a cordial smile.