(Arata)
The next few days proved to be extrely exhilarating and I was being frank. Miranda was on two days leave which made the situation even worse.
It was the third ti I was taking his coffee to his office. The walk from the kitchen to his office seed like a coffee of sha saunter brewed in caffeine crawl.
The first one wasn't black enough.
The second one wasn't scalding hot to burn his damn tongue.
"Please! God, let this one burn his whole mouth," I pleaded, raising my head towards the concrete ceiling.
The urge to spit into it was real and I had to exercise all the control I possessed not to do it.
Entering his office I confidently strolled towards his heavy black desk.
Mr Stuck-up had a shirt on matching his coal-shaded eyes. The jet-black pants snuggled against his shapely thighs as he stood with his palms flat against the polished surface. A few wayward raven tendrils hung loosely against his wrinkled forehead, his blazing onyx eyes concentrating on the file open before him.
"The port mafia is getting out of hand, I am going to put them in their place." His teeth clenched together making his jaw taut like a wire ready to snap.
His COO, Ranold Whittle, was present in the office today as well, and there seed to be a misplaced shipnt issue that they were discussing.
Ranold's empty coffee cup lay beside him, he had taken it from when I had brought them coffee first and drank it without any complaints. He even thanked unlike this brooding titan of authority I called boss.
"Sir! Your coffee," I said with as much fake sweetness as I could muster and placed the cup before him. The long wisps rose like snakes.
Without looking at or the coffee, he handed the paper I had typed for him earlier and ordered.
"It has a comma error, fix it and bring it back to ."
My mouth opened to complain, seriously?
Who cared about a stupid comma?
But as soon as his annoyed eyes found mine, I shut my mouth. It seed like a bad ti.
"Of course, Sir!" Taking the paper from him I turned and clutched it so hard in my grip that it wrinkled.
I walked back to my office, muttering under my breath.
While flopping on my chair, I read the docunt, looking for the minuscule error that had been left. Spotting it I hoped that was the comma he was referring to. I sat down and used my laptop to fix the mistake, printing out the docunt again.
Picking it up from the printer, I soaked in the fresh sll of the paper; it was refreshing and for a second, I forgot the sour-faced demigod I was answerable to now.
Ranold was just erging from his office, seeing approach he closed the door and faced . He was a few inches smaller and leaner than Karsten but still tall enough to be a fashion model. His white slacks and beige shirt gave the impression that he was about to go golfing.
"He is in a bad mood today, otherwise he is less grumpy than this. Sorry, he is giving you a tough ti. But hang in there."
He then mysteriously winked at before continuing. "My office is just on the level below. If you ever need good company, I am always available," he offered with a hint of a tease, raking his dirty blonde hair back. His eyes were like liquid ice, such pale blue in shade.
The man seed to have been directly hired from a billboard comrcial for expensive perfus. He had the look of a coastal rich boy with a ton of family money. His fake tan supported my theory.
"Thank you, Mr Ranold, I appreciate the concern but need to figure this out myself."
Ranold gave a surprise nod, I guess he was used to girls falling all over him and not saying no.
"My offer still stands, Miss Arata. Good luck," he called out while striding past . The notes of his strong cedarwood cologne hit in abundance.
Too strong and flashy for my taste.
"Appreciated," I said quietly.
Adjusting myself, I pressed the rose and waited for permission to enter again.
His whisky-soaked voice ca through and I felt a small shudder crawl over my spine.
Opening the door I entered and found him standing while facing the window. His hands deep in the pockets of his pants, and the shirt flexed against his back muscles. He seed like a handso deity watching over the city he owned.
"Sir! I fixed it," I called out, keeping my distance. One could never know when his mood could sour so more.
"Leave it on the table and don't let anyone enter my office. I need a mont alone," his raspy voice wasn't condescending but held notes of so hidden sadness.
I did as he wished and left the office quietly, hoping the rest of the day would pass in a breeze. But a girl can only dream.
Not even half an hour had gone by when a stunning girl erupted like an exotic orchid in full bloom from the elevator. Her makeup, jewellery, attire and hairstyle were a work of art. She moved effortlessly with her curvy figure swaying with each step.
Quickly I stepped out of my office and caught her before she made her way to Karsten's office.
"Excuse ! Ma'am. Who are you? You can't go in there. Mr Karsten is not eting anyone at the mont."
Her pale blue eyes flickered towards carrying shades of annoyance and pride. They were the palest colour I had seen but could rival Ranold's. Her honeyed curls were elegantly draped on her shoulders, they bounced as her head turned.
"And who the hell are you? Do you have any idea who I am?" She said in a controlled voice but I could sense the pomposity and irritation wrapped in it.
I respectfully clasped my hands in front and answered in the calst voice possible.
"I am sure soone important, but I can't allow you to enter the office. If you could tell your na, I can ask..."
She didn't let finish and began to move again.
"To hell with that, I see you stop . Where is that good for nothing Miranda?"
There was the entitlent too, now she had challenged . So I planted myself in front of her, spread my arms and fake smiled at her.
"Move away, Fatso." She tried to push with one hand while dialling on her smartphone to what I could only assu, Karsten with her other.
Fatso???
Rudeness–fine but bullying...
A big fat ~NO~
That was the gravest mistake she made, body-shaming .
I grabbed her approaching arm and twisted it only a little so I could bend her and hold her in place. She scread on the phone like a wounded hyena.
"K—Karsten, help, this f—fat Militia woman is killing ."
I had never heard a worse line phrase than 'Fat Militia Woman' and believe I have heard plenty.
The door swung open and Karsten appeared like the thunderstorm, his onyx eyes blown in shock.
I could swear he slightly relaxed and savoured in the mont of bending that woman forward. If I wished I could have broken her arm.
He took a big breath in and finally addressed while making a passive face. But I didn't miss the hints of amusent finally descending in his eyes.
"Let her go, Arata."
"She tried to assault and then go inside your office when I repeatedly told her you are not having visitors. I was just doing my job," I inford him, letting the screaming woman go and pushing her forward.
She scrambled away from as if I was Kryptonite and she was Supergirl.
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