Status: newp
Top Floor
part five™
Annoyed, I shake my head and laugh. I feel extremely stupid and wish I could disappear.
“What is it?” the CEO asks.
“I just… wasn’t expecting to be lied to,” I explain.
He frowns.
“Who said I was lying? I do need an assistant.”
“You didn’t say it was you, though,” I roll my eyes.
“Listen,” he says abruptly, “You want the job or not?”
I look away, unsure if he’s even being serious. He motions me to sit down.
“I only have one question for you miss Eleanor,” he says.
The CEO pulls out two coloured ties and brings them to his chest.
“Which one?” he asks.
I look at him as though he’s lost his mind and sigh. I stare at the red one and then the blue. I let my eyes wander to his face, admiring his sharp jaw line and his straight lips.
“Uh,” I slap myself back to reality, “The blue one.”
He raises a brow, “The blue one? Why?”
“Um, well, it’s a calm colour. And it matches your eyes,” I say. I realize the words affected him in someway, so I quickly interject his stare, “I-I’m just saying. It’s not important… what I think.”
Not really listening to my mumbling, the CEO begins to tie the blue one around his neck. I watch him fix it and my eyes wander again over his broad chest and his brawny arms.
“You know,” he starts, catching me stare, “All my secretaries always tell me that they both would look good on me. You’re the first person that actually chose one.”
I shift in the chair, looking at other things.
“Why do you need to ask your secretaries what you should wear? I think that’s a little silly for a grown man,” I mumble.
He grins, amused at my criticism.
“Is $44 an hour good enough?” he asks.
“Wh-what? $44 an hour?” I nearly scream in shock.
“Hm, you’re right,” he says, placing his hand over his chin, “$70 should do, right?”
“N-no, I meant—that’s too much.”
“Good,” he sits back to his desk and scribbles a list on some papers, “$70 an hour from 9 to 5 plus occasional overtime and weekends. Paid vacations and sick days. I’ll make sure to get you a chauffeur.”
“So, you’re hiring me?” I ask, confused.
He looks at me, “Why shouldn’t I?”
“I don’t have any experience.”
“That’s what training is for,” he winks and continues filling out my contract.
“I’m clumsy. I can never do anything right,” I argue.
He laughs a bit, “You know, at interviews, you’re supposed to tell your qualities, not your defaults.”
“Yeah, but you’re giving me a big job.”
He sighs and leans back in his big leather chair.
“You’re right. It is a big job,” he says. His eyes stab through me. I suddenly feel vulnerable under it. “It can be difficult attending to my needs. Especially when I have so many.”
His words and his heavy stare make me uncomfortable.
“I find you interesting. You’re certainly what I’m looking for. But, tell me miss Eleanor, do you think,” he begins to ask. His gaze lowers over my body and then returns up to my eyes. “I fit your criteria?”
I swallow hard in my dry throat. I’m not sure what to answer. But I feel as though he’s not talking about resumes and things, with the way he’s looking at me.
“Um,” I say habitually, “Can I go home and think about it?”
The CEO nods his head. I get up and head to the door, somehow feeling light headed. His voice calls me to turn around one last time.
“When you change your mind,” he smirks, raising a provoking brow, “Just come up to the top floor.”
“What is it?” the CEO asks.
“I just… wasn’t expecting to be lied to,” I explain.
He frowns.
“Who said I was lying? I do need an assistant.”
“You didn’t say it was you, though,” I roll my eyes.
“Listen,” he says abruptly, “You want the job or not?”
I look away, unsure if he’s even being serious. He motions me to sit down.
“I only have one question for you miss Eleanor,” he says.
The CEO pulls out two coloured ties and brings them to his chest.
“Which one?” he asks.
I look at him as though he’s lost his mind and sigh. I stare at the red one and then the blue. I let my eyes wander to his face, admiring his sharp jaw line and his straight lips.
“Uh,” I slap myself back to reality, “The blue one.”
He raises a brow, “The blue one? Why?”
“Um, well, it’s a calm colour. And it matches your eyes,” I say. I realize the words affected him in someway, so I quickly interject his stare, “I-I’m just saying. It’s not important… what I think.”
Not really listening to my mumbling, the CEO begins to tie the blue one around his neck. I watch him fix it and my eyes wander again over his broad chest and his brawny arms.
“You know,” he starts, catching me stare, “All my secretaries always tell me that they both would look good on me. You’re the first person that actually chose one.”
I shift in the chair, looking at other things.
“Why do you need to ask your secretaries what you should wear? I think that’s a little silly for a grown man,” I mumble.
He grins, amused at my criticism.
“Is $44 an hour good enough?” he asks.
“Wh-what? $44 an hour?” I nearly scream in shock.
“Hm, you’re right,” he says, placing his hand over his chin, “$70 should do, right?”
“N-no, I meant—that’s too much.”
“Good,” he sits back to his desk and scribbles a list on some papers, “$70 an hour from 9 to 5 plus occasional overtime and weekends. Paid vacations and sick days. I’ll make sure to get you a chauffeur.”
“So, you’re hiring me?” I ask, confused.
He looks at me, “Why shouldn’t I?”
“I don’t have any experience.”
“That’s what training is for,” he winks and continues filling out my contract.
“I’m clumsy. I can never do anything right,” I argue.
He laughs a bit, “You know, at interviews, you’re supposed to tell your qualities, not your defaults.”
“Yeah, but you’re giving me a big job.”
He sighs and leans back in his big leather chair.
“You’re right. It is a big job,” he says. His eyes stab through me. I suddenly feel vulnerable under it. “It can be difficult attending to my needs. Especially when I have so many.”
His words and his heavy stare make me uncomfortable.
“I find you interesting. You’re certainly what I’m looking for. But, tell me miss Eleanor, do you think,” he begins to ask. His gaze lowers over my body and then returns up to my eyes. “I fit your criteria?”
I swallow hard in my dry throat. I’m not sure what to answer. But I feel as though he’s not talking about resumes and things, with the way he’s looking at me.
“Um,” I say habitually, “Can I go home and think about it?”
The CEO nods his head. I get up and head to the door, somehow feeling light headed. His voice calls me to turn around one last time.
“When you change your mind,” he smirks, raising a provoking brow, “Just come up to the top floor.”