corporate affairs [Niall Horan AU]

Z E R O

Z E R O

I sit the coffee down on his desk and hope he doesn't notice I'm almost five minutes later than usual. A weird dream about babies and cemeteries had made me through my alarm. He thanks me silently with a slight nod of his head and a flick of his finger. In one motion, he swoops his hand over from his keyboard and picks up the coffee, taking a cautious sip before replying to whoever is on the phone.

I stride out of the office and into my much smaller office, a pleasantly decorated, slightly homey room with dark oak walls and a fabulous view of Central Park. I sit my bag down on the empty chair across from me and take a sip of my own coffee, a decaf African blend with more cream than is healthy. I flip through my planner and read Calinda's (our receptionist) notes on the day. 10am meeting with the board. 1pm meeting with Mr. Paternelli from Finance at Fred's. 3:30pm lunch meeting with two potential investors. A relatively slow day for Niall--Mr. Horan--and I.

I click the power button onto my iMac, tapping my black nails impatiently as it starts up, it's sleepy screen finally greeting me with the familiar routine of asking for my name and password. I type them in, a boring Elouise Watson and the same password I'd used since I was ten years old.

The screen takes a moment to load, and I cross and uncross my legs as I wait, trying to get comfortable in my modern minimalistic leather chair. While it had yet to inspire "creativity in the workplace" it certainly proved to inspire creative positions for me to try in order to get comfortable.

I quickly tap into my email, watching the emails flood into my inbox. It wasn't uncommon to start the day with thousands of emails, as I recieve both Niall's and my own, many are junk from unwanted investors, clients, nosy journalists. However, this morning, that little postage-stamp icon's red notification box was set with an impressively high number: 5,678.

It took me a moment to load my email due to how many I was recieving per second. They were flooding in, constantly changing my inbox feed. Not quick enough to process all of the senders, I open the first one that I can land my mouse on before the screen changes again.

To: elouisewatson@horanenterprises.com, niallhoran@horanenterprises.com

From: The New Yorker

Mr. Horan,

We would appreciate your comment on the 'Whore-An' scandal. Please answer the following questions by 5pm today. Thank you.

What the hell was the 'Whore-An' scandal? Why would Niall comment on it? Niall was known for his way of staying out of tabloids and being a "clean" business man. It was part of what made him so popular in the business world. I flick through my other emails, and it's the same thing. US Weekly, Vanity Fair, Newsweek, the New York Times... they're all asking for Niall to comment on this scandal that I know nothing about.

After the tenth or so email I push away from desk and swing open my door, the emails still flooding in every two seconds. "Where is Niall?" I ask Calinda breathlessly, my chest heaving from the short two second run.

"In his office still. What's going on?" Her blonde hair spills over her shoulders as she asks me, the shiny diamond on her ring finger catching the light and blinding me a little.

"Check your email!" I shout over my shoulder as I sprint across the marble floors towards Niall's office. In any other situation, I would've respected the whole 'Closed-Door' policy. I would've knocked. I would've shouted that it was important. But the situation at hand demanded I barge in, and so I did.

He was still on the phone, his expression somewhat docile before I'd entered. Quickly, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. Niall was big on respect in the office. "Excuse me, Mr. Willams," his hand covered the mouth end of the reciever. "Elouise, I am on the phone. Please remove yourself until you can handle behaving appropriately."

"I'm sorry, but this is important. You need to hang up." It felt strange being the one giving orders.

"Excuse me, Mr. Willams, I'll call you back as soon as this is over." His gaze flicks over to me. "Well?" He inquires, his eyes wide.

"Have you checked your email today, sir."

"No. I always let you filter the shit out of it first."

"Damn." I mutter. I pull out my phone and open the first email. Another request for Niall's comment. I hand the phone to him wordlessly, letting him read over it. I know that he's going to tell me I need to call PR and have them handle this stupid, brainless rumor. I know he's going to tell me I'm a big drama queen.

But he doesn't. He sits back in his oversize office chair and stares out of his window for a moment, my phone still in his hand. The seconds tick on, each one feeling like an hour. His blue eyes finally meet mine.

"Elouise, tell Calinda to cancel all meetings today. Call an emergency board meeting set to start in thirty minutes."