𝘾𝙀𝙊. - 𝙔𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

12.

━━━

"I-It's fine,"

"No, and I will tell you every single time, absolutely not."

Mr Dosteovsky's voice rings against my ears broadly with his coffee mug slammed against his work desk, a clank, the deep, dark splatter of the liquid dripping and violently circling the mug, my gaze lowering nervously. 

His grip against his lavish, leather chair swings back with tense force, pulling the chair back, before he drops his suit-covered body into its comfort, agitation oozing from his large figure undeniably. I don't know what is appropriate to say, and what isn't. Especially now. 

 I don't wish for my words to fall on deaf ears, but the silence, mixed with his routine huffs and sighs of frustration only add fuel to this painful fire. 

"I...I didn't take it personally, sir, I don't think what that man said to me is worth... d-dwelling... over..."

My words slowly cease and trail into torturous, nerve-wracking silence as I feel his eyes rise from his files, glaring against me through his lashes, deep, intense, bothered. 

That's my queue to shut my mouth. 

His head drops once more, his hands shifting and flicking through his files busily as I stand by the side of his office, my chest lifting and lowering as my heart races, my lungs sucking in as much air as possible with each shaky breath.

"Never in my life, have I had a business partner pull some bullshit like that to one of my workers,"

Oh, he's mad. 

It's okay, breathe. 

What do I say? I can't say anything, or he'll grow angry with me, and I'd much rather not have such feelings projected against me right now. 

He slams his files against the table. 

My jaw tightens, my teeth grinding horribly. My anxiety is pulsing, heated, without a clue of how to go about this man's fiery anger. 

My head perks to the sight of him picking up his work phone, the material clanking weakly against his finger's angrily punching numbers into its system, dialling for a few moments, before he begins speaking to the unknown worker from the other side of the phone. 

I feel out of place. 

Standing within this man's office, quite awkwardly, I feel my feet gently, nervously shifting towards his office for, feeling inclined to give my boss the privacy of his phone's conversation. Not just because I'm utterly terrified of his anger, not at all. Even if it's not placed against me directly, it's an extremely heavy aura. 

Then, the sudden, loud click of his fingers ceases my shifting feet. From my heart instantaneously racing, the marble floor's squeak under my feet twisting and shifting to face Mr Dosteovsky directly, across his office. 

His ice-blue eyes tightly narrow, and he glares with his gaze telling me a whole other story from his conversation over the phone. 

'Don't you dare think about leaving.'

That is what those eyes are stabbing into me. 

I oblige. My feet stand rigid once more, facing him, and as he sees me obey, his eyebrows soften and his conversation picks up and continues. 

What does this man want from me? 

"...No, No, I don't care. Buy it off. The whole place. Yes..." 

My ears faintly pick up within his cellular conversation, my heart waving with shameful intrigue as I guiltfully eavesdrop. I know I shouldn't listen; I know this is wrong, but from some of the conversations I've heard him have over the phone, they're too good to ignore. 

"...I just told you that. Yes. Y/N L/N. Yes." 

My name? 

Why am I dragged into his conversation? 

My eyes nervously occupy myself with the interior of his spacious office, so perfectly clean and pristine; neat freak. 

I cannot even spot one speck of dust or muck on his black suit. My eyes faintly travel over his slouched figure, which slowly leans back into his seat, knuckles pressing into the side of his angular, sharp jaw. 

His tongue clicks, and the phone slams downwards, my eyes instantly rise back to his eyes, away from his body and features. 

"...are you... okay...? sir?" I chirp with faint hesitation, as if permission is needed to speak - which somewhat applies within much more professional settings. Though now, this atmosphere is thick enough to cut through. 

His dark, arched brows furrow firmly. 

God, don't look at me like that. 

He's handsome even when he's bothered. 

My hands fidget against the smooth material of my work shirt, his teeth knawing against the inside of his cheek before he finally speaks. 

"Compensation."

My eyes lift slightly, my brows furrowing in confusion for a short moment. 

"...W-what...?" I question, swallowing for a moment. 

"You've been compensated. Check your bank account once you get home." He orders smoothly, my eyes widening in stunned shock. My lips part to speak, caught behind a wall of bewilderment. He doesn't react.

"Compensated for what...?! That businessman only made one rude comment, that was all..!" I express, blinking erratically as my muscles tighten. 

 But as he rises from his desk chair, his figure towers naturally. His suit smooths by his rising stature. He takes up space, unapologetically. The air shifts around us, just in the slightest. 

"Exactly, Miss Y/N. One comment. One comment, and not only is his business mine now, but you were rightfully paid."

My eyes lift by his approaching figure, a thick, weighted wave of his expensive scent washing over me, enveloping me, drowning me. 

He stands before me, hands tucked in his pocket, platinum Rolex on his wrist, and a perfectly measured suit. His eyes burn into me. 

"Y-you didn't have to... do that." my words attempt to choke back, but I force out my thoughts, verbalising them to the best of my abilities. 

"I wouldn't have bothered if I did not care, Miss Y/N. I placed you in this job for a reason, and others will doubt you, but as long as you stand your ground, you will go far. Those men aren't your managers, Miss Y/N. They will treat you as such, but don't ever take orders from them. Do you understand?"

His words linger against my mind, and as I quite hesitantly nod, yet this only leaves him exhaling a rather unpleasant, unsatisfied sigh. 

"Do you understand, Miss Y/N?" 

He wants me to speak. 

"Y...Y-Yes, sir." 

I feel my cheeks and nose burn up. My eyes refuse to meet his, his gaze daunts me, it's so assertive. 

"Good. That's what I like to hear."

As I feel his figure begin to shift past me, his voice perks my attention once more. 

"Chin up, Miss Y/N. Don't let what others think get to you. It's ignorance, that's all." His accent fills my mind, so, undeniably, pleasant. I quite suddenly feel his gloved finger lift and physically flick my head upwards from under my chin, my heart panging with force to the sudden contact, and it leaves as fast as it arrived. 

━━━