Bad Girl

I tried to mask my hurt. Why do I even care what he thinks about me? I hate that those stupid words bounce around inside of my head. I do notice that I don’t have as nice of clothes as everyone else around here with designer labels, but I’m at least put together. He’s clearly a snob who looks down his nose at me.

“Leila.” Scott calls my name. He’s another one of the assistants. “Are you coming tonight for happy hour?”

I paste a smile on my face. “Of course.” Everyone else around here has been easy to get to know. I’m still working on building trust. I haven't come across anything of real substance yet, but I hope that it’s only a matter of time. It doesn't help that Warren is watching my every move. I’ll have to be careful.

“Leila, I need you to stay late.” Warren suddenly comes out of his office. The pictures I’ve seen of him do him no justice at all. He’s even more handsome in person. I wish I could say I hate the look of him, but that would be a lie. I keep reminding myself that his insides aren’t so pretty.

“Okay,” I agree, not really having an option. He turns around to go back into his office. Out of all the people here, why does he want me to stay? I thought the man hated me. Unless he’s only doing this to torture me.

My phone vibrates on my desk.

Scott: We’ll be there for a few hours. Stop by after.

Me: I’ll try and make it!

I could actually use a drink or two after this week. Not that I’m actually going to have one. I have to keep my wits about me. I have to remain focused and on task. I can’t allow myself to waver.

The day presses on, and I mainly handle phone calls or folding brochures. I also take care of getting almost everyone’s lunches and coffee. I’m thankful that all the stuff they’ve asked me so far, I can actually do. My stomach growls, reminding me that I forgot to get myself something to eat as well.

Slowly the office starts to clear out until I’m the only one left sitting at my desk. Warren never comes out of his office to tell me what I need to do. Clearly it’s not as important as he made it seem earlier. I wait another ten minutes before I get irritated and grab my purse to leave. I’ve been sitting out here for over forty-five minutes and nothing.

When I pass his office, I don’t even see him inside. What the heck? How does he keep becoming a bigger and bigger jerk? I huff, hitting the button for the elevator. I send Scott a text telling him I’m on my way. At least I’ll be able to get something to eat. I hope they have half price appetizers or something.

I push into the restaurant seeing everyone at the bar. Scott waves me over. Todd says something to him that has him punching him in the shoulder, making him laugh.

“Hey,” I say, taking the seat next to Scott.

“Glad you could make it.” He pushes his plate towards me. I steal one of the mozzarella sticks. “Drink?”

“I’ll have a water for now.”

“Really?” He lifts his eyebrows at me.

“I have a small headache,” I lie. He orders me water before pulling a bottle of Advil out of his messenger bag and giving me two pills.

“What are you doing down here?” My heart drops to my stomach at the sound of that deep voice. I slowly turn to face Warren. He towers over me. “I told you to stay late in the office.”

“I thought you left.” He grabs the pills from out of my hand, tossing them on the table. Everyone is staring at us. I wonder if this is normal behavior or if I’m getting the extra asshole special.

“You don’t take random pills from people. We’re leaving.” He starts to walk back out of the restaurant, clearly thinking that I should be following him. Not wanting to push my luck and get removed from the office permanently, I grab my bag and run after him.

He holds the elevator door open, letting me step on first. For once he shows a little bit of manners. Who knew he had it in him? I’m never going to understand all those articles about what a great man Warren is. I’m guessing they are bought and paid for by some PR firm or something. You really can’t believe everything you read.

The air in the elevator grows thick as we ride up together.

“When I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it.” He doesn't even glance my way as he issues his command. He really must not like the look of me.