Hate, actually ✔

Chapter 3

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to help!

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Chapter Playlist: Cough Syrup by
Young the Giant

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"Lord please make this day bearable," I mumble as I leave my bedroom for the lounge.

I woke up at eight in the morning, showered and slipped a bed robe over my undergarments.

On a normal day, I would have already started heading to work after my usual Starbucks coffee; but it isn't a normal day.

I have the meeting at Romano & Co at 10 AM, so I have nothing to do with the spare time I have left on my hands.

I'm planning to see my mom after the meeting, so I can't do that now.

I become very fidgety in anticipation of what is to come.

I grab my phone and scroll through it for a bit before deciding to Google Mr Romano - the attractive man who was talking to Pablo when I was spying the other day. The man I have to ask for at reception today.

Needless to say, I feel like a stalker but that won't stop me.

I type Romano & Co in first and a lot of results pop up.

I'm not really sure what exactly I'm looking for.

I click on a random link.

It reads: Romano & Co is a successful family business that has been around for a few years, and has grown rapidly over time. The CEO and owner alike is Leonardo Romano, who is the heir apparent to the business. His father - who is suffering from Alzheimer's - left the business in his hands-

I stop reading, go back to the search engine and I type in: pictures of Leonardo Romano.

Thousand of results pop up yet again. Some of the pictures are taken professionally in photoshoots, some are taken by the press and paparazzi, some are from his instagram and so on.

Yep, this is definitely the guy I spied on the other day. His seafoam eyes are pretty unmistakable along with his perfect bone structure.

The one thing I love about his features is that they aren't 'perfect' in an annoying way like the men you'd usually find in vogue magazines (the key word being usually, because I won't be surprised to find him in one anyway).

He sort of has that boyish-charm look fused together with a model's face and body - which is my personal definition of perfect, really.

I shake away my random train of thought and decide to go and put some clothes on.

I throw on a white tank top, a pair of skinny jeans, an old gray and black woolly cardigan that my mom gave to me a while back, and I slip on a pair of white Converse.

My mom always complains about my 'dreadful' sense of fashion but most of what I wear comes from her, anyway.

A normal person would think that I'm under-dressed but in my defence, I don't exactly know what the job description is; so how on earth can I dress for it accordingly?

I step into the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror. My wide, dark green eyes look tired from sleepless nights of overthinking and my lips are set in a thin line.

I try to smile but quickly get annoyed at my pretentiousness. I sigh, reminding myself that it's okay not to be okay.

I eye my hair and grimace. I look like I've been attacked by a wild cat. I'm naturally a dirty blonde but I dyed it a chestnut color for some change and the color desperately needs some renewal.