6

Chapter 6

The weather the next morning was a stark contrast to last night's storm. The air was crisp, the sky clear, and the sunlight gentle. It must have been a pleasant morning, as Richard decided to have breakfast outside. Once the outdoor table was set, I went to inform him that the meal was ready.

Richard came down in a plain white shirt and gray sweatpants. A simple outfit that somehow looked effortlessly stylish on him

"Good morning, sir," I greeted him, pulling out a chair for him. "Enjoy your meal."

I turned to head back inside to begin my usual morning routines, but his voice stopped me.

"Carlton," he called.

"Yes, sir?" I asked, stepping back to his side.

"Have you eaten?"

"No, sir. We usually have our breakfast after the master is done eating."

He scoffed. "What do you mean master? It's the twenty-first century. Don't be ridiculous." He pushed the chair across from him, motioning for me to sit. "Join me. We need to be early to introduce ourselves in the company."

"But-"

He cut me off. "Let Evelyn handle whatever you were about to do."

I considered his suggestion, which felt a bit unusual to me. Employers rarely invite their staff to dine with them—or at least that's what I thought. Perhaps I was just being a traditional snob.

"Well?" he pressed, irritation creeping into his tone. "Are you going to join me, or do I have to drag you here myself?"

Reluctantly, I took the seat across from him, staring at the food laid out on the table. Realizing there was only one set of dinnerware, I excused myself to fetch my own.

I stood to leave, but Richard grabbed my wrist, his touch firm but not harsh. The sudden contact made me gasp softly.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, annoyed by my indecisiveness.

"I'm just getting a plate, sir. We can't exactly share one. That would be unsanitary."

He finally let go of my arm, muttering, "Fine."

I returned to the kitchen, where Evelyn was tidying up. "Are you okay with this?" I asked her hesitantly. "Richard asked me to join him for breakfast."

She waved me off with a smile. "Of course, dear. Take the opportunity to catch up with an old friend."

When I returned to the table, Richard hadn't touched his food. It seemed he'd waited for me.

"So," he began after a few moments of quiet chewing, "what's new with you?"

"Nothing much, sir. Still the same."

"The same what?"

"I'm still me. Just older," I replied awkwardly.

His jaw tightened as he chewed harder, the motion emphasizing his already sharp jawline. "I told you to stop calling me 'sir'."

"What would you prefer I call you then, sir?" The word slipped out before I could stop myself, and I bit my lip in regret. It's just habit I picked up from my mentor. I've always addressed everyone with honorifics as a sign of respect.

But he didn't look pleased. He dropped his utensils with a clatter, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that made me uneasy.

"I'm sorry," I quickly added, hoping to diffuse his irritation.

"Anything but 'sir.' My name, maybe? Hell, you can call me 'babe' if you want—but please just not that."

Suddenly, swallowing became a challenge as if my throat just decided to close themselves just to spite me. I did my best to ingest the food I just ate before responding. "Okay... Richard."

His lips curved into a smile. "See? That wasn't so hard."

I offered a timid smile in return and focused on eating, grateful he didn't attempt to continue that awkward small talk. After breakfast, he instructed me to get dressed, reminding me we had a long day ahead.

_______

In the basement parking garage, rows of luxury cars sat gleaming under the fluorescent lights, most of them rarely used.

"What would you like to drive, ssss... Richard?" I barely caught myself before calling him 'sir' again.

He grabbed a set of keys from the rack and pressed the button. One of the cars chirped in response.

"I'll drive," he said nonchalantly, climbing into the driver's seat.

It was definitely a change from the usual routine.  was so used to driving Mr. Preston to work that sitting in the passenger seat felt unnatural. Still, I adjusted and slid into the passenger seat next to him.

As we drove to the company headquarters, I studied Richard's profile. He seemed calm and focused which is good compared to me who is currently having an internal battle with my nerves. My grip tightened on the journal in my lap, my mind racing with questions about whether I could support him effectively.

I was so lost in thought that I didn't realize we'd arrived until I heard the beeping of the car as he backed into a parking spot.

After parking, he handed me the keys. "Where's the boardroom? It's been a while since my last visit." he asked.

"I'll show you," I said, leading the way.

Inside, we were greeted by a bubbly assistant who introduced herself as the company president's personal assistant. She escorted us to the conference room, chattering the whole way. I tuned her out, focusing on the task ahead.

She opened a large wooden door revealing a group of a group of executives who stood as we entered. Mr. Johnson, the president of the Goldwest Electronics, approached with a handshake, introducing himself to Richard.

The meeting started with Richard being introduced to the executive officers, followed by the president outlining the company's current standing. The purpose was clear: to familiarize Richard with the corporation and bring him up to speed on its latest developments. I sat beside him, listening closely, ready to provide a recap if he needed one.

Afterward, Mr. Johnson offered to give us a tour of the building and the adjacent construction site. We were shown Richard's new office, his name already etched on the frosted glass door. They also introduced me to the desk outside his office, where I'd be stationed as his assistant.

We were then escorted outside to visit the construction site of the new extension building, currently under development adjacent to the main headquarters. Before heading to the site, we were handed gray hardhats. I grabbed two and passed one to Richard.

The site manager began the tour by discussing the building's progress. It was nearly complete, with finishing touches underway before the installation of furniture and fixtures. As we strolled through the freshly tiled lobby, a sudden yell echoed from above the scaffolding. A worker had accidentally spilled his paint, sending it cascading down. In a panic, the worker below quickly dodged the falling paint, but his hasty movement knocked over a row of unopened paint cans nearby.

"Carlton!" someone shouted, pulling my attention away just as I realized a cluster of heavy paint cans and debris was plummeting in my direction. I tried to move, but I was certain one of those things would hit me, that is until someone tackled me. We rolled across the floor as the sound of crashing objects echoed behind us.

When the commotion settled, everyone rushed to check on us. I realized someone's arm was wrapped tightly around my waist. My rescuer groaned, his breath warm against the back of my neck. The site manager extended a hand, stammering out apologies as he helped me to my feet first before assisting the person who had saved me.

As the group stepped back, I turned and froze. Richard stood there, his expression dark and furious, his eyes locked onto mine with the piercing intensity of a predator sizing up wounded prey.