Death of Me

02. MAYA BENNETT

Oh my God!

He barely looks up from his work. "You must be Maya Bennett," he says, his voice crisp and businesslike.

I nod nervously, my throat suddenly dry. "Yes, that's me."

His eyes finally meet mine, and they carry a hint of skepticism. "Well, Ms Bennett, welcome to Ivencorp. I trust your first day hasn't been too overwhelming?"

Nah, not really. I only insulted the boss to his face within my first minutes of active employment.

I attempt a small smile. "Not at all, Mr. Wheeler. I'm eager to get started."

Mr Wheeler leans back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. "Good. We expect a lot from our employees here. This is a demanding environment, and I don't tolerate inefficiency."

"I understand."

He continues, "Your work phone is on your desk. As an... asshole, I took the liberty of informing the IT team to fit your work phone with everything you need, including my contact details. Bear in mind that it's to be used solely for work-related matters, and all activity on that device will be closely monitored."

Yikes!

I blink, surprised by his bluntness. "Uh, no need to emphasize that, Mr Wheeler. I'll keep it strictly professional."

"Good," he replies, his gaze never leaving mine. "Now, I expect you to perform your duties efficiently. If there's any issue, don't hesitate to seek help from your colleagues, but don't make it a habit."

I'm going to regret working here, aren't I?

The rest of the day passes in a blur of tasks and assignments. Mr Wheeler doesn't seem interested in providing guidance or mentorship. He's all business, and his expectations are crystal clear.

Who can blame him? But damn, he's kind of an ass!

Halfway through the day, my desk phone rings, and I jump in my seat. I quickly pick up the receiver, my heart pounding. "Hello?"

A deep voice booms on the other end. "Hey, this is Dave from the ranch. Is the boss available?"

I glance over my shoulder at Mr Wheeler's office.

No guests, no meeting. He isn't out yet, but I don't hear him talking on the phone so he must be free. "Yes, he's here, hold on." I place a palm over the receiver and fix a call through to Mr Wheeler.

He picks on the third ring. "Yes?"

"Call from Mr Dave, he says he's calling from your ranch."

"Put it through."

I dial the extension, and the call connects. In the meantime, I try to speed up on the files I am arranging on my desktop library. Apparently, Mr Wheeler likes every file arranged by it's contents and initials of the important names in it. That means that I have to go through every single file.

For what feels like the millionth time, I wonder why his secretary can't do this. Sure I'm his assistant, but what happened to division of labour?! Besides, it's already past lunch time.

As if it can sense the direction of my thought, my stomach grumbles.

Later, my dear...

As evening approaches, other workers begin to leave the office but Mr Wheeler still hasn't emerged from his office all afternoon. All I get from his lair are calls instructing me to do one thing or the other, keeping me busy with errands that leave my legs cramping.

I am working on yet another task from Mr. Wheeler when my friends, Sara and Calla, walk in to check on me. They look like they had a better day than I did, all dolled up and ready to head home while I'm still at my desk, typing what could be the longest email ever composed.

They gasp and exchange surprised glances when they notice me hunched over the keyboard, "Maya, are you still working?" Calla asks.

I nod, trying to keep my focus on the screen. "Yeah, Mr Wheeler needs this email sent out urgently."

"Wait, he's still in his office?" Sarah chimes in, concerned.

Before I can respond, the office door swings open, and there stands Mr Wheeler, his imposing figure filling the doorway. "Ms Bennett! Are you done with that email?" he inquires, his tone curt.

How the fuck am I supposed to be finished?

I glance at the unfinished email on my screen and shake my head. "No."

His expression grows impatient. "Be quick with it!"

As he turns to leave, he pauses, glancing back at me and my friends who seem to have forgotten how to breathe. "By the way, Ms Bennett, I don't believe I hired you to sit around chitchatting."

Deep breaths, Maya... a prison sentence won't look great on your resume.

We wait in pensive silence until his office door clicks shut.

"Damn, he's an asshole!" Calla mutters under her breath.

Yes, yes he is.