Merely His Distraction

Chapter Two

Incompetence.

Complete and utter stupidity.

Is it really too much to ask for the shit I need to be done, to be done, correct?

I am currently looking at the spreadsheet I had asked my assistant to review only to come across that she neglected everything wrong on this damn sheet of paper. I mean come on now. A toddler can decipher the mistakes on here better than my damn assistant. 

"Kimberly!" I roar into the intercom.

"Yes, Ma....Mister Salvatore?" She replies in that tone where I know she remembers what we did the other night, but I don't have time for a walk down memory lane. She was good. We both came undone, but what was done was done. I don't do seconds, and I don't relive the past. She was a one and done. I don't do hearts. I don't do flowers. I don't do romance. 

"Please come in here." I say, more like demand, and this could go either way. She can come in here and explain to me her lack of work, giving me excuses, or she can come in here with that haze in her eyes thinking I am summoning her in here for more than a simple talk about her lack of work ethics. I am betting on the latter. The door opens with her shirt unbuttoned an extra button and her skirt rising just a smidge more than where it was this morning. Lipstick is reapplied. 

Yep. 

She was thinking this was a meeting of our bodies, not our minds. 

"You wanted to see me sir?" She says sexily while closing and locking the door behind her. 

"Just stop Kimberely. Have you no shame? This is work. I am not asking anything of you but to see how stupid you must think I am. Unlock the door and explain to me why the numbers on this page are far from being correct. I gave you a simple assignment, yet you couldn't even handle it. I asked you to evaluate the numbers. I asked you to use that mind of yours to assess whether or not my company is being royally fucked. You are my personal assistant for shit sakes, and you can't even assist when it counts? Get your stuff packed. You're fired." I say, seething with rage on the inside. Her eyes are beginning to form tears, and I am sorry, but that shit doesn't fly with me. Tears don't get to me. 

Like I said, I don't do emotion. 

"You, you can't just fire me! I've been nothing but devoted to this position, and all the other positions you have put me in, especially the other night, for the past ten months! You are really going to fire me over some stupid accident?" She pleads but she should have kept her mouth shut before insulting the work I asked her to complete. She is not just insulting me, she is insulting my job, my position, my entire being. Does she not remember that when it comes to my company, I rule with an iron fist? I don't take to accidents or errors. 

No. 

I need precision. I need accuracy. I need my workers to have their shit together and not let me down, especially when it comes to stupid numbers. 

I push away from my desk and rise out of it, re-buttoning my suit jacket and walking around to stand face to face with my now ex assistant. I lean against my desk with my legs crossed at the ankles. Her eyes begin to bug out of her skull and now she realizes the magnitude of her mistake.

Little too late.

"You would do well by watching your mouth, Kimberly. I am your boss, well was. You cannot just throw what we did the other night in my face and expect me to feel sorry for the mistake you pulled. I don't do relationships, and I don't do emotions. Whatever we did the other night is nothing but something we did in the past. I fucked you. That's it. We both got what we wanted and that was the end of it. You knew that from the start. That moment should have never allowed you to think that it should be a means of you thinking that I would protect you when it came to your job. Your job is to make my life just a tad bit easier in the workplace. I hired you to be my assistant and to assistant when asked, especially when I ask you to assess numbers. This company is my livelihood, and I will not allow someone like you to think they can sink their claws into me and make me their prized possession. Pack your stuff and leave the building. If you are looking for a letter of reference, you best realize that you will never get one from me. Don't expect to work in the corporate world again. Your lack of work ethics contributed to your downfall." I seethe, my jaw tightening. She doesn't reply and that I must say is the smartest thing she has done so far. She walks on out, slamming the door, while I just shake my head.