Shattered

Chapter 3

Alessandro Pov

Filling my glass with whiskey, I lean against the window as the morning fog rolls out of the city and the sun peaks from behind the clouds. My eyes fall onto the cameras mapped out through the building. I watch as many employees make their way up to the steps and elevator, hurrying to punch in and not be late. I smile to myself as I down the rest of my whiskey and discard my bloodied shirt into the laundry bin. Heading into the bathroom, I strip myself of the rest of my clothes and hop in the shower. Leaning against the wall, I watch as the deadman's blood cascades off my body, swirling down the drain, before I cleanse myself.

Once I'm done, I head out of the shower and bathroom, and over to my walk-in closet. Changing into a black ironed crisped shirt, my eyes fall onto the camera angled in the corner of my office as I button my shirt.

She's early.

I finish dressing myself before making my way out of my penthouse. Taking the elevator down to my office floor, I make my way to the office and glance through the glass windows. I make out her petite figure. I open the door to her back, facing me as she peers out the window.

"Something interest you out there?" I ask, shutting the door behind me. She jumps, startled, nearing falling off balance before catching herself and turning to me.

"No...I... um... I was just looking," she stutters. "It's a beautiful landscape. I see why you picked to build a building here".

"I suppose it's one reason," I reply as I walk over to my desk and sit down. She walks over to the chair in front of my desk and takes a seat. I observe her as she scans the room before her gaze settles on the floor.

Leaning back in the chair, I observe her. Her body's yells nervous wreck. And she's so slouched in the chair, I know she has to be uncomfortable at that angle. This secretary thing might have to go before the end of the month.

"Sit up," I instruct. Her eyes find mine, but her body remains slouched. I narrow my eyes at her. "I don't enjoy repeating myself, Ms. Collins". She grabs onto the handles of the chair, lifting her body upright. "What was my number one rule in the interview?"

"Your number one rule?" she questions.

I let out a sigh. "Ms. Collins, I don't like questions to my questions. I like answers. And if you don't know a damn answer, I suggest you find that fucking answer within you." She shudders, gulping at my use of language. "Now answer my question".

"I think---"

"Wrong, start again," I cut her off.

"You mentioned in the interview, Mr. Ro—sir, that confidence is a requirement for this position," she responds. "And I guess I'm not embodying that, am I?"

"No, you're not," I answer. "You have 1 week Ms. Collins. Now 4 days. Do I need to send you home early? Make it 3?"

"No-no, no, that won't be necessary," she stands, smoothing out her skirt. "I'm fine, I can handle this job".

I chuckle. "Is that so?" She nods. "Because from the looks of it Ms. Collins you look like you're one minute from having a panic attack, and god forbid I have to call the medical staff down here to escort you to hospital, I'm going to be a very angry man". She scrunches her nose. My jaw ticks at her act of disrespect. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I say something to---"

"Men like you shouldn't be angry all the time," she cuts me off. "You have everything. Money, power, a good life. To be angry all the time is for nothing. You only waste the years you have. And when it's too late, you're going to look back and realize you should've spent them happy. So send me home if I'm too much because some people deal with real shit".