Babysitter Cougar [COMPLETE]

Chapter 18 page 1 - Stay Back

"I need the decision for all MC meeting papers the soonest," Saint storms into the vacated meeting room where MC meeting had concluded.

"I'll email it to you first thing tomorrow," I respond nonchalantly while shutting off the projector.

"I want them right now!" he demands.

"It's already 9.30 pm and all of my teammates have left. By the time I'm done tidying this place up, it'll be 10.00."

"Not my problem," he grunts and leaves the room.

I pull out a blank paper, scribbling the decisions hastily before hurriedly stowing the meeting materials into my document bag. I rush out of the meeting room and into his office to deliver the decision on his desk.

"What the fuck is this?!" I hear him exclaiming behind me as I turn away.

"You want decisions for all the papers, so there they are," I turn back at him.

"How am I supposed to read this horrendous handwriting?" he crumples the paper and tosses it at me mercilessly. "Get it done properly. Don't expect me to teach you how to do your work."

"Okay, fine. But I need to get back to my workstation and I can't do that unless you let me out of this darn place," I say in an utmost amicable manner, can't afford to get another yellow card for quarrelling.

He snickers. "Yeah, like you're gonna do that if I let you."

"Well, it's already late and I thought of getting it done once I reach home," I admit. "I could type it better when I'm all freshened up."

"You can do that later. This Bank can't wait for you to have your mind sorted." He leaves his desk and ambles towards his newly installed 2-seater black leather sofa across the desk. "Use my workstation if you must."

"It's an iMac," I scowl. "I'm not an Apple person."

"I'm not asking for your preferences," he lounges on the sofa and pulls out his iPhone from his pocket. "The faster you produce the decisions without grumbling, the earlier we leave."

I perch into his customised ergonomic swivel chair and stare at the defaulted TWIB corporate wallpaper filling his iMac screen before opening the word document. My eyes involuntarily wander around the cluttered items and new furniture occupying the space which makes his office more welcoming than before.

Other than the sofa, I notice a standing coat rack by the corner is a new addition to the room. A medium sized cork board on the wall next to me with colourful sticky notes pinned to it like an investigation board, indicating to do list and reminders. The office appliances, gadgets and other clutters surrounding his desk are neatly organised and not only does it look homey and spacious, but it also makes me want to consider revamping my workstation.

However, a couple of framed photos by the corner of the desk next to the In-Out tray, catch my attention. One of it is a photo of Saint and aged Sabina still looking beautiful as always while the other photo is him embracing his girlfriend from behind. It's Anita Ryan, last year's first runner up of Miss Universe Malaysia.

Seeing the happy couple's faces kills me inside, so I draw back my attention to the screen and continue my work with a flush of envy. I realised I shouldn't be poking my nose around this office and his personal matters. The more I appraise this room, the more I waste my time discovering things that might be hurtful or simply delaying my work.

The sudden rings from Saint's iPhone breaks the silence in the room and interrupts my train of thoughts, making me jump.

He chuckles at my startling reaction then slides the iPhone screen with his thumb to answer. "Hi, Princess. I miss you. (pause) At the office as usual. (pause) Nah, I'm putting this elderly woman in detention with my workload. I'll be back soon."

Cloyed by the intimacies between him and the caller, I fake a gag and mutter, "Puke."

He responds to my sarcasm with a smug but the grin fades away as the conversation becomes serious. It is as though the person on the other line (presumably Anita) conveys something that makes him frown in disagreement.

"I thought you're coming back tonight," the tone of his voice turns serious "How can I be chill? I haven't seen you in a month. What do you expect?"

Realising that the conversation may distract me, he gets up and takes it outside. Nevertheless, his voice vexed out by every word that it becomes inevitable for me to ignore.

"Well, I don't stay back every day and I don't have to prove my self-worth to the world. I'm not like you!" his voice echoes from outside.

I attempt several hums to remain focused and to disregard the exclamation that resonates across the hallway, but I realise that it's pointless to snub it out.

"Whatever, just come home or don't bother coming at all!" Saint lets out a harsh bellow and ends the conversation.

'Same old hot headed, clingy Saint,' I say quietly to myself.

His footfall signals me to quickly recover my former position and resume typing.

"Sorry about that," he says softly.

"I've heard worse," I shrug impassively while he retreats onto the sofa.

"Have you informed your husband you're staying back this late?" he pops the question.

"I have no husband," I answer briskly.

"Sorry, divorced or widowed?"

"I'm not married yet."

"I thought 2010 is your limit," he comments under his breath.

"Is this conversation relevant to the Bank?" I mock him.

"Haha! Attagirl," he snickers and resumes with his iPhone. "Carry on with your work, then."

"I'm kidding!" I giggle. "Shit happened and I didn't meet my marriage deadline. We'll talk about it later. Okay, I've emailed you the decision."

"Well, get it printed then," he orders.

"I thought you're into paperless materials," I debate.

"It's not that we're printing dozens."

I groan, too tired to prolong this futile argument that I print out the document before distributing it to him.

Have you ever worked overtime? Have you ever feel like this working overtime? 😂🤣

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Photo source - Tenor image