What a horrible morning! I sigh deeply and dive back into work. The list is super long, and I've already been reprimanded once today. By the time lunch break arrives, I've only made it halfway through, and my head feels like it's about to explode. Why are so many people obsessed with cat videos? And how on earth is this supposed to be useful to me? Names, hobbies, interests, random topics... People who apparently have nothing in common, yet all leave their digital fingerprints in the vast web. I just hope I can finish on time and somehow keep it all straight for tonight's event.
After lunch, I'm still slogging through the list when I notice Max peeking through the office door, giving me a curious look.
"Oh, Mr. Manner, do you need me?" I ask, startled, jumping out of my chair.
"I always need you." He raises an eyebrow, as if amused. "I thought I gave you the afternoon off, but you're still here. Haven't you finished with the client list yet?"
"No, I'm sorry," I say, my gaze falling to the floor. I hate disappointing him, especially after the recent mistakes I've made. Elena's words from earlier echo in my mind, and I feel a pang of guilt, wondering if I'm proving her right.
Max leaves his office and walks over to my desk. He leans against the back of my chair, close enough that I can feel his presence behind me.
"Don't worry, sit down," he says gently. "How much do you have left? I have some free time; I can help you, so we finish together."
He seems incredibly calm and kind. It almost scares me. I sit back down, trying to stay composed as he leans in even closer to look at the screen. I can't help but catch the faint scent of his cologne—a warm, spicy smell that's almost intoxicating. Instantly, I'm back in that boutique, remembering his sculpted physique. How am I supposed to focus with him so close?
"Cynthia?! Everything okay?" His voice breaks through my thoughts, and I snap back to reality.
"Yes, yes!" I reply quickly. Get it together, Cyntia. "I just have the last thirty names to check. With our new application, it shouldn't take long, but... as efficient as the software is, it misses certain nuances. I was just going through the data manually to pick up on things that might be useful." It's half-true, but he seems pleased, judging by the slight smile on his face.
"Impressive," he says, leaning over me until he's only a few centimeters from my face. His voice drops to a low, almost conspiratorial whisper. "You'll have to show me your process sometime."
My cheeks flush, and my throat suddenly goes dry. I can barely breathe as his gaze holds mine. God, he's so attractive. But then, Elena's voice echoes in my head—"that kind of secretary..." The thought jolts me back to reality. I turn away quickly, grabbing the list to break the tension.
"Fifteen names each?" I ask, forcing a nervous smile.
"Sounds good." He returns my smile, taking the list from me. "Let's get to it."
With his help, we finish in less than an hour. He's efficient, focused, and, despite my initial embarrassment, surprisingly easy to work with. Still, I feel a bit guilty for not completing it on my own. I hate not being able to be fully independent in my work.
As the afternoon winds down, I grab my things, heading home with the documents I need to prepare for tonight. In just a few hours, I'll be at the gala, surrounded by people I barely know. I'll have to recognize faces, remember names, and somehow hold my own. Luckily, I have my tablet with me; I can use facial recognition to match people with the photos I've saved. Sometimes, this job has its privileges.
"Hello, Rudolf," I say, greeting my cat as I walk in the door. "Did you have a good day? I'm back early, but don't get used to it." He meows, rubbing against my legs. Normally, I'd spend more time with him, but tonight is different. I have... preparations.
In the bathroom, I look at myself in the mirror. And now comes the hard part. Messy hair, dull complexion, dark bags under my eyes. I glance down at my hands—dry skin, broken nails. Elena's polished, runway-ready image pops into my mind, and I can't help but groan. How does she manage to look perfect all the time? At least Max solved the dress problem for me. I lay it out on the bed, admiring its elegant lines. "It really is beautiful," I murmur, running a hand over the fabric.
I grab my phone and desperately search for an esthetician who can work a miracle on short notice. I finally find one willing to help, and after a whirlwind appointment, I'm amazed at the transformation. Who is this person in the mirror? I'm still me, but with a bit more polish, a touch more confidence.
As I get dressed, the intercom buzzes.
"Miss Cyntia, I'm Mr. Manner's driver. I'm here to accompany you."
I take a deep breath, gather my things, and head downstairs. A sleek black Mercedes is waiting, and the driver steps out to open the door for me.
"Thank you," I say, lifting my dress slightly to get in without wrinkling it.
"Ma'am, the journey won't be long. Mr. Manner is already there, waiting for you. He apologizes for not being able to come personally, but he had to leave early for work matters."
"Thank you," I murmur, feeling a wave of nerves. Why did I agree to this? This isn't part of my job, and I feel completely out of my element. But there's no turning back now.
YOU ARE READING
My hardcore Boss
General Fiction"Oh my God! It's him! My boss is a porn actor!" Cyntia, a timid and reserved secretary, is constantly subjected to subtle criticism from her colleague Elena, whose beauty and confidence constantly make her feel uncomfortable. Her life takes an unexp...
