Authors note: Hi guys! This is a CEO - AU in which I have had the pleasure to write. Enjoy!
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I quickly threw my work shirt to the floor of the Uber, pulling at my jeans as I wiggle my way out of them, "Miss, are you okay back there?" The driver asked, looking into his rearview mirror.
"Fine, don't look back," my best friend, Tara says, as she hands me a black dress that's meant to rise just above the knee. I pull the dress over my head, wiggling around to adjust it on my body.
Getting changed in the back of an Uber isn't my thing, but when I have a boss that loses track of time and a boyfriend who is precise with times and despises being late, I am left with no choice.
"Pantyhose," I instruct, and Tara rummages through bags in an attempt to find them. She threw them at me and I rush to slide them up my legs. "Fuck," I say in a bad-tempered manner, ripping the pantyhose. I throw them off, grabbing my bag and fumbling to find my makeup. "He's going to kill me," I groan, quickly putting on my makeup in hope to look decent.
Matt was the authoritarian, everyone must be committed, punctuality is a must, and he's absolutely never content when his own girlfriend doesn't abide by the rules.
"Don't forget the lipstick." Tara reminded me, throwing a small bag into my lap as she continues to rummage around the back seat.
"Dark red or bright red?" I question, holding up the two lipsticks.
"Dark," she responds, "put the heels on." She mumbled, throwing my black pumps at my feet. With my spare hand, I adjust the heels and slide them to my feet, taking part in multitasking as I apply lipstick.
"Hair," I babble, Tara pulled it from its high ponytail and ruffling her hands through it.
"We're here." The driver cleared his throat, keeping his eyes forward.
"You look hot." Tara empirically pushes me out of the car, my feet stumbling as I try to hustle.
I take a breath and close the door before turning on my heel, my hands grasping my clutch bag nervously. My eyes view Matt dressed in an all black suit.
"You're late." He said, looking displeased, "thirty minutes late." He adds, looking me up and down before cracking a small smile.
"I'm sorry, I-" I begin.
He shakes his head, cutting me off with his own words, "Sh, come on." He instructs, offering his hand out to me.
I place my hand on top of his, following his lead into the lavish building. My heels hit black marble tiles and my eyes meet the inside design of the beautiful lobby.
"I'm sorry."
"I hope you have a good excuse. There is no room for fault." He comments, pressing the up button on the elevator.
"Work," I respond calmly, looking up at him waiting for a response, but all he does is nod.
"Don't forget to always make eye contact, don't stutter, and don't look weak. They'll try talking down to you, don't take it." Matt gives precise instructions.
Every time there's an event of any sort he gives me the rundown, what not to do, and in most instances, they're the exact lectures. I must always be on my game, there's no room for stuttering, stumbling, uneducated statements, or ill-advised conversations.
"I know," I nod, "never back away from a conversation, don't discuss politics, don't take the hard liquor, only drink the champagne offered," I repeat by memory, copying his voice, watching as he smiled.
"Don't copy me once we are there." He prompts, attempting to stay stern with a smile on his face.
"Don't mimic me once we are there." I joke, stepping into the elevator. Matt steps in behind me, pressing the top floor before resting his eyes on me while the doors close.
