Hate You Not

CHAPTER NINE

Adrian

The world outside is painted like a dark canvas. Grey clouds hung low, heavy with droplets of water, that would soon turn into rain.

        I gaze down at the people walking on the streets, some laughing, some rushing to hide from the approaching rain. I turn away from the large, floor-to-ceiling window, and walk towards my desk.

       The mahogany wood, polished to perfection, sits in the middle of the room. I pull over a drawer, and a picture frame occupies it. Besides it lies an emerald pendant. Attached to a silver chain, the small stone is surrounded with tiny white stones.

I clasp the  in my palm, remembering who it belongs to.
A knock on the door makes me slam the drawer shut. The memory fades, replaced by a dull  ache in my mind.

        A young girl in her twenties walks inside. She's my assistant. Amelia, right. She nervously stands there, she is an excellent assistant but she has this habit of being nervous all the time.

     A file tightly clutched in her hands. "Speak," I say, flipping through a file on my desk.
"Sir, it's the sales report for this month."

"Keep it on the desk and leave."
"Sir, actually..." she mumbles. I glance at my Breitling. "You are wasting my time, Amelia."

     "Sir, there is a problem with the sales report this month. Our deal with the Swedish company last month generated losses due to the absence of a new marketing plan." She strangles the life out of the file in her hand.

"Who was in charge of it?" I look up at her nervous form. "Sir, Mr. William."

"Fine. Leave." She meticulously places the fine on my desk and quickly walks out.

        A few minutes later, William enters the room with a knock. A man in his mid-forties, sloppy and self-centred. I skim through the document Lisa left behind. Slowly turning page after page, William just stands there shifting from foot to foot. I throw the file on my desk and lean back on my chair.

"William. What year-, no, what century is this?"

"Umm, the 21st century?" He says.

"Good. Then would you care to explain to me, why this ridiculous market plan is from the nineteenth century?" He manages to piss me off by sprouting some more useless stuff.

"If you can't do your job properly, you should simply quit," I state in a calm voice. Only people who are not assertive enough, feel the need to raise their voices to assert their point. And I simply don't need to raise my octaves to assert authority.

"Sir, it is not my fault. They rejected-"

"The project plan that you asked one of your subordinates to do, at the last minute and then took credit for it?" His face pales at my revelation. I know every detail of what happens in my city, let alone in my office.

"If it's not your fault, is it my fault then?" I rest my elbows on my desk.

"Quit. If you don't know how to work anymore." I stand up and dial a number on my phone, pressing the phone to my ear.
William leaves quickly,  mumbling a small apology.
Some people sure know how to test my patience, first thing in the morning. A flashback of a certain someone comes to my mind. White ribbons, blue. And that attitude.

"It's nine in the morning!" A grumpy voice speaks from the other end of the call.

"You better be here in the next hour or I will permanently remove you from my house."

"Why so sweet, brother? I sent the file to you already." Laugh. "It's about her, isn't it?" More laughing, "Yeah, yeah, yeah! I remember. She left you on the streets last night, right? Oh! My poor brother, are you going through your first heartbreak? Tsk, tsk. Happens. If you need a shoulder to cry on, find Andrei. I am busy."