Count to three. Do not kill your boss.
And do not fall in love with him.
That's a good start, especially when you work for New York's most eligible bachelor with millions in one pocket and half of Manhattan's panties in the other. Not to mention tho...
"What would you do if you were stuck in one place, and every day was exactly the same, and nothing that you did mattered?"
Phil Connors, The Groundhog Day (1993)
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One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi.
I take a deep breath as I finish writing down his latest commands and let the pen linger above the paper notebook, giving it a quick deathful squeeze. I've learned to give myself a few seconds at times like this to stop myself from screaming and jumping over that massive table to strangle him with my bare hands.
Only then I look up. "Anything else?"
"Yes, a new coffee. This one's cold as a dog's nose," he replies rather curtly and pushes away the cup I brought him just several minutes ago.
One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi.
"I'm on it."
I pick up the still warm cup and put all my concentration into not slamming the door of the CEO office like an angry teenager. I throw the notebook on my table and head for the office kitchen. I set the coffee machine to extra strong espresso there and while waiting for the signal that the coffee is ready, I come up with nine different ways how I could 'accidentally' spill the liquid of the color of his soul on him.
Today, he sent me five blocks away for his lunch only to throw it into the trash can right in front of my eyes because the baked potatoes were supposedly dry. That's another item on my current to-do list, bring him some damn edible lunch from the cafeteria on the ground floor.
I haven't even finished my morning coffee yet. It's still on my desk, ice cold, like his heart.
I knock on his door, place the coffee on the table and leave and repeat it twenty minutes later with his new lunch, all that without him acknowledging me or thanking me. He is leaning back in the black-leathered office chair, resting one foot over the knee of the other, his expression slightly frowned under his full concentration on a fold in his lap.
I must admit, he is one hell of a piece of art. When you look at him, you can't but think that God had a marvelous sculptural moment with him. If that thick, dark and slightly wavy hair, sharp face features, deep ocean blue eyes and lean body were some attempt at perfection, the creature up there deserves a pat on the shoulder because, well done God.
Unfortunately for us mortals who have the misfortune to be in his presence, Brandon Knox is well aware of that. So besides taking it to the next level with that spotless look in his overpriced fancy suits and the play of his mesmerizing eyes, he can also be a real jackass. And I'm not exaggerating here.
As I close the door behind me, my gaze lands on a tall brunette taking off her jacket. A bitter thought that the PA of the other CEO I share the office with must have just come from lunch instantly invades my mind. Lucky Amy.
