Be prepare - This story contains strong language, sexual references and adult content throughout.
Frankie's point of view-
"Jason Hayes and girlfriend Natasha Bennett enjoys ninth vacation of the year in sunny Barbados-"
My nose wrinkles in distaste as I toss the magazine into the metal bin at my feet. Ninth vacation? Ridiculous.
"Good morning, Ms Donaldson. Are you here for Mr Hayes, or Mr Donaldson?" I greet the older woman who appears in front of me. Her ruby red lips spread into a wide smile as she removes her black leather gloves and slips them into her designer Gucci bag.
"How many times, Frankie?" She chuckles. "It's Pamela. I'm here for David, is he around?"
"Got to be professional, don't I?" I beam at her. "Give me two minutes and I'll call him - he was in a meeting at eleven, but I'm almost certain he's finished. Do you want a coffee while you wait?"
Pamela shakes her head. "No dear, thank you. Just tell him not too keep his mother waiting, he's treating me for lunch."
I nod and dial in Mr Donaldson's office line number, giving the information across to his assistant. I hear Pamela sigh from the seating area in front of my desk, I lifted my head and peak at what she was reading - the exact same magazine I had buried in the bin along with a banana skin and a stick-man drawing from my lunch hour.
"Sad, isn't it?" She said, flicking through until she found the two page spread. "It's almost like he is completely blind towards her."
I keep my lips shut, biting back my thoughts on the situation although they were ready to spill from the seams. He was my boss - I couldn't jeopardize my position at the only stable job I've ever had by letting my loudmouth run itself.
Especially not too the loving aunt who was more like a second mother to him.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. "Mother."
Pamela's mood immediately lifted as she sets down the gossip publication and rises to her feet. Her petite frame was engulfed by her son's much taller and much broader physique. My heart warmed.
"There I was thinking you would keep me waiting."
He grinned like a boy at Christmas. "Well Yazmin told me I was under strict instructions not too." He looked over her shoulder at the magazine and he narrowed his eyes at the headlines. "Someone looked happy."
"Someone looked like they didn't have a choice." Pamela mutters, collecting her bag from the floor and positioning it on the crook of her arm just as the reception phone rang.
"Good afternoon, J.D Headquarters, Frankie speaking - how may I help you?"
"Frankie, it's Tim." The breathless doorman hurries, his teeth faintly chattering from the briskly cold October weather. "Listen - you know I never call but there was a delivery of papers down in the front hall for Mr Hayes and Alison has just been sent home sick. Would it be too much to ask for you to come down and get them?"
"I'll be down in a second, let me just get Jenny to cover for me." I tell him, hearing the breath of relief. Everyone knew that once a delivery was brought in, it needed to be shipped to the upper floor for Mr Hayes immediately. Our last delivery man suffered the consequences after delivering papers late to Mr Hayes and risking a important contract. He was fired on the spot.
"Alison sick again?" I hear Mr Donaldson ask as I dial Jenny's office number. She was the accountant from the floor above, but also the back up receptionist for when I took my lunch or bathroom breaks. I nod and he slumps his shoulders. "That's five time in the past two weeks she's went home sick - Jason's already gave her a warning."
No answer. "Have you seen Jenny, I just need her too cover for me while I run down for some papers."
"No, I haven't needed her today." Mr Donaldson says. "Go, I'll stay here. You don't mind, do you mom?"
Pamela shakes her head, taking a seat again on the extremely expensive, red velvet chair that crowded the beautifully light and airy waiting area. I mouth a thank you and quickly escape to the elevator, catching it just in time.
I hated elevators. The horrible and creepy music, the awkward and eery silences, and not forgetting the overwhelming fear of being trapped inside after a sudden breakdown.
But I couldn't hear the music, and it certainly wasn't silent because upon stepping inside I was greeted by the walking million dollar barbie herself - Miss Natasha Bennett. Her shoes alone was worth more than my entire wardrobe, and her outfit probably costing more than my apartment.
"Hm, ten days wasn't long enough - I barely even got a tan."
I felt the sudden urge to roll my eyes knowing too well she was talking about her latest venture to the Caribbean island with Mr Hayes.
Mr Hayes and Natasha Bennett were the talk of the town. Her father was a self made billionaire thereforth thrusting his children into a ready made life of luxury. She and Mr Hayes have been dating for just over five months but apart from the occasional snap in the magazines, i had never seen them together.
She giggles suddenly and my ears couldn't help but listen in, even though my mother would be smacking the back of my head for eavesdropping. Manners.
"I pick it up tomorrow, it's a Mercedes convertible. A upgrade from his - but he ordered the wrong colour. Who even drives a normal black car? How boring." The disgust drips from her tongue. I tap my toe, my fingers clinging onto each other as I watch the number of floors pass by slowly. Curse being on the fourteenth floor. She laughs again. "Well it will teach him for not booking a longer vay-cay. He got off lightly with the car - I could've asked for a matching jet."
My eyes bulged. Jet? Like a private jet?
Suddenly, I could breath. My heels clicked loudly and my pace fastened as I rushed from the elevator before Natasha.
"Oh you lifesaver!" Tim gasps, thrusting the overly packed brown envelope into my chest. "Thank you, I'll bring you a coffee tomorrow!"
"No coffee, just tea!" I call after him. He tips his hat quickly before being sucked into the revolving doors and disappearing to his position outside. I return to the elevator, being tightly crammed inside like a sardine in a can. I hug the envelope to my chest, the conversation between Natasha and the mysterious caller playing on my mind.
Did she force Mr Hayes to get her a new car because their trip wasn't long enough?
Did she forget about the other nine trips away during the year? Paris, Berlin, Milian and the Maldives just to name a few.
I frown instantly. I worked my butt of every day, a nine-to-five job six days a week - that wasn't including overtime - and I was yet to even venture out of the city for a day never mind a week plus.
Her ungratefulness made my skin crawl.
As we came to the top floor, the elevator was empty and the doors opened. Floor twenty-one was where Mr Hayes and Mr Donaldson's offices where. Nobody apart from their PA's, Alison the delivery girl and Jillian the receptionist was allowed up here and even then, they were allowed to go to the desk sitting at the front of the oval shaped floor.
"Frankie - what are you doing here?" Jenny asked, her eyes bright and her smile wide. She stopped her rotating on the office chair, something I was guilty off from time-to-time, to greet me.
Jenny was tall and extremely slim. We often joked about her being in the same category as the Victoria Secret models - only I was never joking. She really could pass as one. She had worked for J.D Headquarters for just a little longer than me, both of us racking up a total of three years in here. She, of course, was much more important and undoubtedly smarter. I mean, they trusted her to do their accounts. Money, privacy, and more money.
That was something.
"I was looking for you - Tim rang. Alison went home sick -"
"Again?"
I nodded and frowned as she cut in but she smiled sheepishly and nodded for me to continue. "So I had to go and bring these papers up for Mr Hayes."
She took the brown envelope from my hands and sets them out of sight on the desk. She crosses her arms across her chest and furrows her brows before speaking, "He should be out soon. Natasha has just left, she seemed pretty smug about something."
"I'm pretty sure I know what it is."
Her eyes widened, "What? Tell me - please, give me something interesting to think about while I die of complete boredom up here. Jillian's on her break and I swear, that woman deserves a medal for sitting here constantly."
"Well apart from being completely unappreciative, she was boasting about having Mr Hayes buy her a new car - a mercedes convertible, may I add, because he didn't book them a longer break in Barbados." I explain watching as Jenny's nose wrinkle. "She even had the audacity to complain about the colour."
"Ungrateful bitch."
I flinch at her use of words. I wasn't a prude, the odd cuss word did leave my lips the odd time but I still hated them.
"She even said he got off lightly with the car, she could've asked for a jet."
"What?"
I nod, "Exactly. A jet. Is she serious? Be thankful that he gives you the time of day."
"Makes you wonder, doesn't it? Is she with him, or with his bank account?" Jenny asks.
"Do you really need to ask?" I roll my eyes and lean my folded arms on top of the shining oak desk. "Nine vacations, a new car, endless amount of clothes, shoes and bags, and trips to the hairdresser three times a week? All with his card and money. She doesn't love him - she loves his money."
"Not to mention dinner every night." Jenny growls with a huff. "Must be nice."
I shake my head, "Money makes nobody happy. Everyone is born the same way and dies in the same way, money or not."
My beloved mother's words repeat in my head - A person should have money in their head, not in their heart.
"Shoot!" I gasp. "I've left Mr Donaldson and his mother waiting downstairs for me! Crap, I'll see you soon, Jen!"
"If I don't die of boredom beforehand!"
I rush through the elevator doors, eyes wide as saucers as Mr Donaldson props himself against my glass desk and flicks the dead roses, watching the crisp petals fall onto the marble floor below his feet. Pamela barks at him to pick them up just as I come into sight.
"Mr Donaldson, I am so so sorry! I -"
"Frankie," he chuckles, brushing his hands into the pedal bin beside the water dispenser. "I thought I told you my name is David, Mr Donaldson is my father or else the name I go by when I act intimidating."
My cheeks flush pink as I return to my seat.
"Your phone rang, I passed the message on too George on sixteenth and I also refilled your bottle of water since you were running low."
"Mr -" before I could start my apology, he cuts me off quickly with raised eyebrows. "David. Thank you, you didn't need to do that."
He shrugs his shoulders, popping an elbow out for his mother's arm to slip through. "It's good to stay hydrated. We must go before Mario scolds me for being late to another reservation."
"Have a good afternoon," I smile warmly at the mother and son who depart into the elevator. Before the doors close, I hear my name.
"You might want to reconsider your flower choice next time, roses' never last well."
The doors close and I breathed loudly, leaning back into the leather chair.
Roses were never my favourite anyway.
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"Thank you sir, have a lovely day."
I set the phone back on the holder and pick my pen back up again, glancing at the clock in the corner of my computer screen. Another forty-five minutes to go before I return to the cosy cave of my one bedroom apartment just four blocks from here. The tub of Ben and Jerry's ice-cream was already screaming my name.
I heard the ding of the elevator above my humming but I was yet to look up, my hand scribbling across the lined page of next week's task manager I hand-filled out every Friday.
I heard a cough, and when I lifted my head my breath caught at the back of my throat.
Tousled brown hair and a slight shadow on his incredibly chiseled jaw drifting around to the top of his beautifully plump lips, cheekbones so sharp it would be possible to sharpen a knife and that was before I could get to his eyes. Those astoundingly breathtaking pools of deep chocolate eyes.
"Hello?"
I blinked.
"I'm s-sorry."
I could see the dance of a sneaky smile trying to cross those delicious lips. His raspy tone brought my heartrate up.
"I said - could I have a word please, Miss Fields."
I nod. I nod like one of those bobbing headed souvenirs and wobble to my feet. I follow his alarmingly tall frame down the hallway, earning wide eyed looks from my co-workers who peaked out of their office windows and doors in complete shock.
Mr Hayes never came to this floor.
He opens a door, and motions me forward. I gulp, pleading inwardly with myself not to stumble in my new heels that were two inches taller than I was used too. Unfortunately my trusty Target heels came to a horrific end a few weeks ago when the heel snapped in half after being caught in a graten causing me to walk two blocks in just my tights.
The boardroom had a slim oak desk in the center of the darkly lit room, six chairs huddled neatly around it. He offers me a chair and my heart flutters - chivalry right there. He walks to the other side, opening the only button on his navy suit jacket before taking a seat directly in front of me.
I clear my throat. "Is there a problem, Mr Hayes?
He cocks his head to the side and narrows his eyes. His stare is intimidating.
"I heard you."
"Excuse me?"
He licks his lips - oh dear god.
"I said," he begins again leaning forward and resting his intertwined fingers on the table. "I heard you. Upstairs. On my floor with Jennifer."
If the ground could open up and swallow me, that would be fantastic.
My entire face heated, my heart rate increased rapidly and my hands felt sticky with sweat. I sucked in a breath, my eyes never leaving his as I scramble for appropriate and apologetic words to say.
"So you think Natasha is a gold-digger?"
"No!" I exclaim, slightly too loud. "No, I-I never said that."
He chuckled deeply. "But you implied it!"
Crap.
"I-I'm so sorry, Sir." I quickly choked out. The ever-growing fear bubbling within the pit of my stomach. I couldn't lose my job. "I can't express my apologies enough, sir. It will never, ever happen again. I am so sorr-"
"Stop saying sorry."
"Sorry."
He blankly looks at me and my face deepens in crimson. He leans forward a little bit more, the arms of his jacket rising and exposing the cracked face of his gold watch with worn-out leather strap.
"Have you ever had a boyfriend, Miss Fields?"
"Excuse me?" I gasp slightly. My brows risen and causing the wrinkles to appear in my forehead. "I don't think that is appropriate sir."
He hummed slightly. "Possibly, but I would love for you to enlighten me on how you can so easily pick a -" he pauses as if trying to find the right word. "-a leetch, out of a relationship? How can you detect when someone is using another person within the first couple of minutes after meeting them?"
I struggle to find words, gulping loudly and shifting uncomfortably under his strong and dominant gaze. I pick at my chipped nude nail polish, cursing myself not to fix it last night while I was in the bath.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
I cough at his sudden interruption of the silence that surrounded the room.
I licked my lips, biting at my inner cheek. "Well, sir, I-I." I breath out a long and shaky breath. "I can't speak on personal experience sir but I can only follow my gut."
He studies me intensely. I drop my shoulders in a hope to relax.
"My mother always taught me that eavesdropping was bad and please believe me when I said I do not condone the fact I listened in on Miss Bennett's private conversation but she made it loud and clear of what was happening in your personal lives and on her very strong opinion she had about you and your relationship." I started. I bit my inner cheek again before continuing. "Too anyone, Mr Hayes, it sounded like Miss Bennett was boasting more about your worth rather than you as a person."
He stayed silent and I could've swore you could hear my pounding heartbeat along with the tickling of the clock on the wall.
"And you think she just loves my money, and not me?" He questions.
I bite my lip and very slowly nod. "I'm sorry sir, I-I shouldn't be intruding on your personal life like this. I am sorry, I promise that my lips are sealed. I just need to know, is my job safe?"
He chuckles, dropping his head. Crap, crap, crap. How could I carry all my stuff back to my apartment? It was close to raining outside.
"Did she honestly think I would've bought her a jet?"
I could feel a small smile dance on my lips, but I bit it back once he raised his head again.
"Forgive me, Mr Hayes but a girl doesn't want thousands of dollars spent upon her. A simple goodwill, heartfelt gesture is enough to make a woman turn into a puddle of goo." I nervously fiddle with the hem of my risen skirt and I clear my throat. "If a woman wants your money - then it's not love."
He pushes himself from the swivel chair he was resting upon and walks forward causing my temperature to rise and a strangled breath catch in my throat. His hands grasp the chairs arm on either side of me and my toes curled within my high heels. Turning my chair to face him, he leans close and I could catch a smell of his musky scent.
"Then teach me, Miss Field." He speaks, dipping his head to catch my nervous gaze. "Give me lessons on how to love."
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Please, be kind! This is my first story in a long time, and with a young daughter it gets difficult to proof read so forgive me please!
Please, leave a comment and a vote! xoxo