Personal assistant

Barriers

"And...?" Rupert asked, as he stood anxiously behind the desk at reception, fingers crossed for my verdict.

"Meet Miss Bardot's new P.A.," I grinned ecstatically and he clasped his hands together in delight. I was buzzing, truly, It was actually happening. My salary was skyrocketing, my reputation too, and working for the most distinguished hotel in New York! The best feeling ever. Rupert gathered a stack of papers and started walking, gesturing for me to follow.

"I made these for whoever the new personal assistant would be, I've waited 6 weeks and now I can finally use them!"

He shoved it in my direction impatiently, looking so proud it was adorable.

"Thanks... what is it?"

"It's basically a small guide on everything you need to know about the Beaumont, and most of all, how to survive Miss Bardot!" He whispered the last part in a jovial way, and I sincerely thanked him. It would be useful to know how to fit in a place like this.

"So did you like her?"

His question took me by surprise, and I swallowed a little harder than I probably should have done.

"Yeah she's alright, I get what you mean about the scary part." 

He didn't reply, but he looked questioning and his eyes were suddenly fixed on my face.

"What?" I squeaked, my voice sounding pitchy and on edge, so I said no more and waited for him to reply awkwardly.

"You're colouring."

He said this as a statement, as if he didn't even want me to attempt to argue my way out of this. Why was everyone here so good at reading people?

"So you're an analyser then, huh?" I sighed, and he nodded apologetically in reply.

"It's one of the main reasons she hired me, because I can read people so well. Nowhere near as good as her though, she's like a hawk, I'm definitely still learning. To be fair, I would be more surprised if you didn't like her."

I stopped walking and cocked my head to one side in question.

"Why is that?"

Rupert grinned devilishly, pushing his glasses down his nose as he did so.

"Matt informed me she was your... type.

"Great, thanks for that one Matt," I muttered. 

Note to self; punch Matt in the face later.

"Anyway, it's no problem, especially if she likes you bacckkkkk," he teased, and his mocking tone was relentless. I shook my head with a smirk at his irritating behaviour and followed him once he sauntered off again.

"She absolutely does not, now don't you have a tour to be giving or something?"

He looked pleased with himself and gave the mockery a rest for now, I needed to pay attention to the layout of this place. It was absolutely huge, although the tour was nowhere near as long as I thought it was going to be, he seemed to know all these shortcuts and tricks on how to get places ten times faster than the average person. He saw the confusion on my face as we returned to the top floor once more outside her office. 

"It's all in there," he reassured, pointing at the papers and I nodded in relief. 

"Off you go then sweets."

He waved me towards her door, and if my expression could talk, it would be letting him know how much anticipation I was experiencing. 

"Knock, I believe in you!" He drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I couldn't help but giggle after he pointed out how dramatic I was being over simply entering the same room as her. I looked round once more which was a mistake, because his expression was so satirical I just lost it. After he burst out laughing too, neither of us could stop because I don't think he was expecting me to find it so funny. The door handle beneath my grasp suddenly flew away from my hand, and Rupert shut up, immediately turning on his heel and marching to the elevator. I turned around, laughter still present on my face, and Miss Bardot was stood directly in the doorway, eyeing me suspiciously. My grin changed to a smile, and then to an even smaller smile as I tried to gauge whether I was in trouble or not. Surely I haven't got myself in some sort of conflict already?

"I decided to open the door since I called enter three times and no one answered." 

She sounded stern, but definitely not angry. If anything she just seemed curious about what all the laughing was for.

"Sorry," I mumbled, fiddling with my rings and trying not to seem like I was staring in awe at her face now that it was closer to mine. She stayed silent for a few more seconds, and then concluded, 

"You look different when you laugh."

I couldn't work out whether to be flattered or confused, and a puzzled expression formed on my features. She noticed, her stern look dissipating into something softer. I wanted her to explain in great detail what on earth she meant by that, but asking seemed like the most difficult thing in the world. In true Rupert spirit, I decided that perhaps my anxiety would diminish when just doing whatever it was that made my nerves spike, a homemade style of exposure therapy if you will. 

"What's different?"

My voice came out smooth, masking how I felt quite well. Her aura was so unbelievably intimidating. She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her face to look down at me before responding curtly.

"Your eyes light up."

And then she just walked away, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts and that single comment. 

Like what the hell was that supposed to mean? Am I supposed to smile more often around her? Or was that a hint to keep my guard up about showing my emotions? What on earth...

"Come sit."

My vision leapt from my thoughts, and over to where she was now sat, waiting expectantly. I gathered myself as best as I could, and sat down opposite, obtaining the tense feeling again that I had when I was being interviewed earlier.

"I have some things for you to do. I need you to book an appointment with my hair stylist, collect coffee from Rosco's opposite the Beaumont, and bring my stylist's pick for tonights clothing to my room. Any information you need to do those things is on this." She handed me a small card with some names and numbers on them.

"Think you can handle that?"

"Of course," I smiled brightly as I rose from my chair and walked towards the door, pathetically hoping she was watching me, and then becoming irritated that I couldn't secretly check if she was looking. 

"Get yourself whatever you want from there too, it's on the house."

The businesswoman glanced round the side of her computer screen to make brief eye contact before finishing.

 "Always."

My eyebrows flickered up, I was caught by surprise at her generosity. She was already reabsorbed in her computer screen as if her latest statement wasn't grandiose in the slightest. To her, a multi-millionaire, I suppose paying for others wasn't meaningful, but to me it certainly was. 

Chivalry is not dead, then.

A small, covert smile played on my lips as I closed the door behind me.