Golden Reputation

6.EQUATIONS.

It was an early morning, and she had just come into Bukar Group. She was not particularly fond of working for Farouq, but she would give it her all. An added advantage being some nice people she had met. She was hoping it was going to get better by day; everything to stay at is it.

She hasn't seen much of Farouq yesterday due to his heavy schedule fixed with meetings and yesterday being the first day she was excused. For the amount of time she worked with him yesterday she had to say he sounded like a strict person, possibly stricter than his father in the business world. The guy had earned his name in not only being good at business but also how to treat his employees. One thing she learned was his hate for tardiness.

She excused herself in. She had checked his schedule and all that had to be done. She met him sitting on his swivel chair, his body perfectly adorned with a gray suit. The light streak from the glass pane ignited the colors scattered in the office.

With the brightest smile she could muster, she offered her greetings, "Good morning, Sir. How was your night?"

"You are a minute and fifty seconds late," she heard the monotone sound of his voice.

Okay. Wow!

"My bad. Kinda got hold up because of the elevator ride." She informed, in a low voice.

"Do use Professional terms when addressing me. You may want to find a substitute for that American slang 'kinda'; it is not a recognized word in the British Oxford Dictionary." He added, his voice a monotone; she wondered how he managed to stay composed like that whenever he tried to get on her throat, not even an increase in decibel could be detected. His eyes were focused on the papers he was brushing through as his hand skims over the document.

She swallowed the retort about her choice of free vocabulary back into her throat.

Patience where are you?

" I wasn't late. I came on time. You may want to increase the elevator's speed next time, I'm sure it won't cost much," she said, her gaze flickering to his statue. She noticed the way his gaze flickered to her for a few seconds before going back to his work.

What's wrong with him?

"Which is why you come some minutes earlier." She heard his voice a much deeper monotone. That's it. He was always using that tone with her, and she wasn't particularly fond of it.

Leila looked at him and huffed. As if! It wasn't even like I was late. You can chew, gag and suck on it. Only she didn't say that out aloud. She knew better not to.

But he was her boss, what could she have possibly done? If he wasn't, she wouldn't have to think about giving him some kicks in the ass. She could only imagine his reaction; how his brows would knit to a more knitter structure, his lips would form a thin line, his eyes blank like a white page only his were darker like he looted it from the midnight sky, his fist in a ball, and he would trap her with a gaze so piercing like she just committed a murder; for some reasons, that made her chuckle.

In an attempt to mask it off, she feigned a cough when she noticed his gaze on her; it was exactly like she imagined, his eyes shaded by what looked like a glare that was freezing her spine, like being nude in the middle of a hail storm, where every chunk of ice was a dagger directly to her frail skin.

She cleared her throat, her left hand curled on her mouth.

"Rule number 1: I hate tardiness," He added shortly after.

"Yes,your-royal-highness-of-dump-mushroom-sack. Fluffy and insubstantial," she murmured hoping she hadn't just signed her ticket to hell. With a feigned happiness, she offered her brightest smile with gritted teeth underneath. From her peripheral vision she could see as he shuffled some papers, then his eyes landed on her for a millisecond.