The Secretary and Her Boss

Chapter 2

When you are trapped in an elevator with someone who terrifies you, your imagination starts to take over. You suddenly become convinced that death is the ultimate conclusion.

My boss isn't going to kill me, and hide me in a pile of red fabric that matches the color of my blood... right?

The stifling silence in the elevator wasn't helping the matter. Allie stayed quiet as we rode down, the dim lighting hiding her features, adding an eerie feel that sent my mind running down imagination road with a hatchet that ripped at the fabric of my sanity— convinced that getting fired was perhaps better than whatever Allie had in store for me.

The silence stretched, long and painful. Allie wasn't known for small talk, so I wasn't surprised. But her ability to make even silence feel like a reprimand was impressive.

Can that be taught? Can intimidation be something you learn? Or are you just born with it?

When we stopped on the second floor, my mind went blank. Was she planning to make me run a few errands before she threw me out for dressing so poorly?

Allie's arrival changed the entire demeanor on the floor. People went silent, seeming to jump awake and bolt to their stations, working faster, like the very presence of their CEO yanked the entire place into fast forward.

She walked through several rows of people organizing racks of clothing, a section where others held up sketches and compared them to mannequins with identical outfits, another filled with swatches set up across tables, covered by spools of thread, with seamstresses assessing instructions in their hands, moving the materials around like the heads of armies assessing battle plans across maps.

Walking into one of the identical hair and makeup rooms, Allie waved her hand. "Leave." The makeup artists and models left without a word, plucking up their equipment and moving into another room. They closed the door behind them, leaving me alone with Allie.

And this is how I die. She's totally going to drown me with a bunch of makeup concealer.

Allie motioned to one of the chairs. "Sit." There was no room for argument with that tone.

Sitting, I put her coffee down, my fingers playing with the cushy upholstery, toes pushing the swivel chair back and forth in a nervous tick. Allie turned my chair, and I was suddenly facing the mirror, forced to take in my red rimmed eyes, my sweaty face, and wet hair half out of the braid that I had hastily tugged it into.

The sight was nearly enough to make me cry. I looked broken, vulnerable. The pain clear on my face. "I get it," I said yanking my eyes away. "Just fire me, okay? Don't make me look at myself."

You are boring Lily Autumns...

It was hard to deny when I took in the sight in the mirror.

No wonder Liam dumped me.

Allie wanted to make me stare her reason for firing me in the face. To take in my mistakes.

I had heard stories of Allie being mean, read the gossip articles of her cruelty, but I had never expected this.

Allie remained silent, ignoring my plea. There was a sudden tug on my hair, and I looked up into the mirror, my jaw dropping as I watched Allie, her fingers untangling my braid, her eyes focused.

"What happened?" she asked quietly.

I blinked, confused by the sudden tears that brimmed. What is she doing? And why does it make me want to cry?

I was so stunned when she picked up a brush and began to gently brush my hair that I didn't say a word. She glanced up, took in my expression, and gestured to her coffee that she had made me carry around.