SCARLET MEETS MILA

13

Scarlet's beauty is distracting.

I try my best to focus, but her perfect posture and waterfall of raven hair convince my eyes to stray from the work set. She picks up the phone a few times, asserting her opinion and judgment on the receiver while scribbling her signature onto the various documents below.

She's hands-on.

Harlow pays a few visits, handing off and collecting things like a delivery service, and I'm further forced to eat my opinions on the world of business. Maybe the heads in charge work harder than I first assumed. Scarlet barely takes a moment to look around, let alone polish her ego.

While sifting through the overwhelming portfolio of signatures, I'm able to observe her as if in the wild. I like to judge those more fortunate than me, and Scarlet falls into the bracket of fortune I love to scrutinise. She makes more money than I could ever comprehend, and yet, she sits alone, lonely, in an office with a blank and well-trained expression.

I'm yet to see her smile.

When she speaks on the phone, she leans back, conveying a natural confidence that perplexes me. She speaks with an insurmountable range of language, statistics and numbers sitting on the tip of her tongue, ready as if a weapon against whoever is trying to squeeze the money from her pockets. 

When she sets the phone down, she returns to her work as if she had never been distracted. I try to understand how a woman of my age can have knowledge and strategy like Scarlet. Most of the time, I still feel like a teenager. If it wasn't for Maisie, I think I'd likely be sitting in a dorm eating ramen with no idea about the need to budget groceries against field trips. 

People like Scarlet feel alien to me. 

How is it possible that we were born in the same year, in the same city, yet we've grown to be so different? She sits behind her desk, categorising billions of dollars, while I sit opposite, turning through a folder of documents that barely makes up an ounce of her workload.

The rambling of my internal monologue is cut short by the gentle knock behind me. Fox enters a moment later, a nervous-looking brunette following close "Third time this week", he informs Scarlet with a bite of frustration. "I can't keep explaining to the girls why punctuality is important, Scar. I've got deadlines to meet."

I look up for Scarlet's reaction, but as always, her expression withholds movement. She lifts her chin and sighs, the sparkle in her green eyes igniting with thought. "Do you have a reason for being late today?" 

The girl looks down at the floor before shaking her head. "I struggled to sleep-

"Look at me when you're talking", Scarlet interrupts.

She looks up and swallows. "I couldn't sleep last night. I woke up late."

Fox shakes his head, and the narrowing of Scarlet's eyes makes it obvious that she's about to question her honesty. "Couldn't sleep at home or at the club?" the model instantly widens her eyes. "I heard you made the most of your cheque last night."

"How did you know?" the model stammers, her face amusingly perplexed. 

Scarlet chuckles. "I didn't, but thank you for telling me." She leans forward onto her elbows and wets her lower lip. "I think it would be wise that you go home and remind yourself of what is expected here at Ramirez HQ" I sink into my seat, the second-hand intimidation messing with my stomach. "Fox has a lot more patience for your behaviour than I do. Three times in a week calls for a reality check, don't you think?"

The model is visibly shaken, and her eyes struggle to meet Scarlet's stern gaze. "I'm sorry, ma'am," she speaks quietly. "My friends begged me to. I thought I could handle it."

"And I thought you knew better," the girl cowers at the instant reaction, creasing her brow as she tries to resist Scarlet's tone. "You're back on probation. I expect to see an immediate change in your attitude, Sapphire. If Fox has to raise another concern about something as simple as your punctuality, this conversation will take an entirely different path." She punctuates her words with raised brows. "Understood?"

The girl nods quickly. "Understood. It won't happen again."

Scarlet picks up her pen and continues to read, signalling to Fox that she is finished with the interaction. When leaving, he mutters a genuine thank you and closes the door behind him. I look around for a moment before completing the last document in my lap. I'm the next in line to separate her from the work she's been eating into for over an hour despite the frequent visits.

I take a deep breath and stand, tucking the folder under my arm as I approach her busy desk. She looks up at me and arches a brow, sitting back when I place the folder in front of her. "I think I'm done", I speak, watching her drag the folder towards her. "I circled some dates that seemed wrong. I know you didn't ask me to, but some of the signature stamps don't match the invoice dates."

She cocks a brow and looks up at me briefly before returning to the pages below. "You're right?" she states, flipping through the pages with a focused sigh. "I'll need to have these backdated for my accountant," She slams the folder shut and places it beside her before standing. "Come with me."

I follow her to the large unit of folders and watch her reach for another wedge of documents. "Same thing. Look for the dates too. Clearly, Harlow needs a refresh on the months of the year."

I can't help but chuckle audibly. "We all make mistakes." 

Scarlet dropped the folder into my arms before heading back to her desk for the documents I'd given her earlier. "I hate mistakes", she replies, strutting towards the door with a waft of expensive perfume. "Don't become one."

I widen my eyes and swallow hard at the snarky yet serious comment. "Yes, ma'am," I mumble under my breath as she slams the door closed. In the wake of her absence, however, I failed to notice the falling documents that followed her from the desk. I rush to pick them up, pausing when my fingers make contact with a photo.

A photo of me from the shoot.