My boss is my freaking Ex?!!!

Chapter 1: Meet the boss

I hurriedly hopped in my red Audi R8 and fired it up; just glad my grumpy grandma didn't take away my precious baby. I sped up to Hamilton Electronics & TelCom International Corp (HETIC) at central avenue, hoping not to be late on my first day at work as an executive assistant to a certain man called, Mr. Hamilton. I assumed it would take about 30-40 minutes from home to Central Avenue depending on the current traffic. I wasn't completely briefed about who my boss would be, but the previous assistant who interviewed me said not to worry since I'd get to know him before I start the job. Well, I didn't give a damn whether my boss would be a fat, bald, old man as long as I get paid nicely. Yeah, you heard me right. I got a goddamn job! My first ever job at the age of twenty-seven. I just happened to be in luck to get hired in such a big company even though I had no work experience. At least luck was still on my side. Honestly, I had no interest in working or whatsoever, but my eccentric, coldhearted grandmother kicked me out of our house in Beverly hills when she returned home from her European cruise and found me dancing wildly and drunk with my friends and some unknown friends at the poolside. She kicked us out immediately. Yeah, us, including my sorry lil ass out of the house. I only had my clothes and shoes, some branded bags, my car, and my four hundred bucks in my Prada wallet without the debit and credit cards. If I had known earlier that my grandma would take away all of my cards, I would have withdrawn a bounty of cash. It was a good thing that my good friend, Eloise had let me stay in her house in Beverly Hills a few blocks away from our house or I'd be selling all my stuff if I didn't want to end up sleeping on the streets. I sighed as I parked my car in the parking space of the HETIC building in the basement. After I got off my car, I stared at my car window to check my makeup one last time and then fixed my cream long sleeve and button-down blouse tucked in my high-waist black pencil-cut skirt. Then, I checked my black pump shoes and ran my fingers on my sheer stockings. All set. Everything was just perfect, too perfect, and I looked perfect. I grinned at my reflection. I knew that my self-love would sometimes go overboard, but I'd rather love myself than love a man again. No shit. That would never happen ever again.

"Hmmm... Abigail Wilson, you look expensive. Well, aren't you a gem?" I asked myself through the reflection and giggled, not caring that someone might hear me and would think that I had lost my mind. Finally, after I finished admiring myself, I walked toward the elevator and mindlessly winked at the man who let me in on the elevator before him. "Thanks, darling!" I winked at him again as I reached the thirtieth floor. The poor man blushed and shook his head. Unmindful, I walked to the reception area and smiled at the young brunette. She looked amiable enough so I greeted her cheerfully.

"Hi! I'm Abigail Wilson. I'm supposed to start today."

"Good day, Ms. Wilson! I'm Sally and you're just in time. Mr. Hamilton just arrived just now. You know, he hates tardiness the most. Just a heads up," she informed, a bit gossipy, but friendly nonetheless.

"Thanks for the info, Sally. I'm so glad to meet you. Please call me, Abby," I said brightly. She nodded and we shook hands.

"OK, Abby, and yeah no sweat. I'm just so glad to have someone my age on this floor and as fashionable as you are," she said, admiring my outfit. I smiled and thanked her. "By the way, Mrs. Smith will orient you with the pros and cons of this company and everything that you need to know about your job title," she went on, and then she led me to a room that looked like an adjacent to the CEO's office. Mrs. Smith, who interviewed me previously, stood up and greeted me professionally. So opposite from Sally, but she seemed nice nonetheless. Sally excused herself and I thanked her one more time before she went out. So glad I found a nice person right away. I hope my boss wouldn't be some kind of a terror or worst a sex offender.

"Would you like some coffee or tea, Ms. Wilson?" Mrs. Smith asked.

"No, thank you," I declined politely and smiled.