Personal Assistant (MXM - EDITING )

Chapter 5: Knowing Marcel

Marcel nodded his head at Seven. "Congratulations on the job," the lawyer said.

Seven grinned. "Thank you, Sir."

The lawyer took out his hand with a smile on his face. "Please, call me Marcel. You'll see me often, so it's best if we drop the formalities."

The assistant raised an eyebrow, taking a quick glimpse at Nicolas as if waiting for confirmation that he could shake his friend's hand. Seven raised his arm, grabbing Marcel's hand. "Seven," he responded.

Marcel pulled his hand away, returning Seven's work phone with his other hand. "You got a top, well-known company to come to Nicolas's party." Seven grabbed the phone, keeping eye contact with him. "Tell me," Marcel mumbled, taking a few steps toward him. "What exactly did you tell them?"

Nicolas scoffed, pulling himself away from the desk. "Now, now. A true magician never reveals his secrets. Don't you have breakfast waiting for you?" The CEO grabbed Marcel's blazer and walked toward the door as if leading him out of the office.

"You're kicking me out soon? We haven't seen each other in weeks!"

Nicolas forced a laugh. "We'll catch up later, but some of us have to work, Adams."

"When's the party? Am I invited?" Marcel asked, with curiosity in his tone. He followed Nicolas out after giving Seven a goodbye smile.

Nicolas shoved his hands into his pockets, watching the lawyer leave the office. "Of course,

Marcy. Father will want to see you again. It's on Monday next week."

"Monday? That's three days from today. Why so soon?"

Nicolas closed the door slightly, signaling to Marcel that he should leave already. "He wants

to start the season out on a good note." After that, the room went silent. The sound of the door closing was followed by Nicolas sighing. He turned around, seeing the assistant back on the phone again. Nicolas squinted his eyes at him as if looking for something. None of his former assistants could surpass his expectations, never mind being able to invite WebBaze. He didn't know the first thing of expressing gratitude, and now he feels the need to tell his new assistant, 'Good job.'

"You can drop the phone, Ochoa," he said, returning to his chair.

Seven looked up, his throat feeling dry. He cleared his throat as the pressure in the room built up. "Sir?"

"Are you free this Saturday?" Nicolas asked, moving his attention to the computer screen.

Seven nodded, standing in front of his boss as his hands held together behind his own back. "Yes, Sir. Is there an event going on during that d—."

"Now, hold on. Let me finish." He tsked, shaking his head. "You never know if I'll answer your question with the next thing I say." He looked up from the screen and stared at Seven. "I want to meet up with the CEO of Compskill."

"You want me to arrange it, Sir?" Seven calmly asked.

The eye contact surrounded them in a circle as if they felt the air getting thinner. Only this time was when the two acknowledged each other's eye color and facial features. Seven's freckles splattered all over his face were an exciting view for Nicolas—something like an art project.

"Yes," Nicolas responded, the corner of his lips curving into a smile. "Make it tomorrow. 10 a.m."