What's Wrong With CEO Jay

Chapter 6

Faces are now becoming familiar to me as I stand and the elevator whisks us pass the bottom floors. I've been in this same elevator the day before yesterday with at least two among the seven people in here. Three get off on the ninth floor, which I think is the location of our brand's Cosmetics Mall, another four get off on the eleventh floor —the Make-up department, and finally, I'm being whisked to the thirtieth floor. Alone, like a sacrificial lamb.

There's his nice smelling perfume in the air the moment i'm in the lobby. A change has been made overnight, I guess. White and blue leathered couches are now balancing against the glass wall on the left, a center table is situated close to the couches, and the place which once use to be devoid of anything is now bustling with electronics. Near the door to Mr Jay's office, there's a large, brown mahogany desk equipped with a monitor, a keyboard, a laptop and a telephone.

Behind the desk, stands proudly, a comfortable looking executive chair. I can see a medium sized packaged box with the photo of a printer on it.

I'm taking quick steps to the lonely door, my converse is black and so are my knee length pencil skirt and a blazer jacket. My ponytail is bouncing off my back like a high school junior about to miss her first literature class. I'm about to touch the door knob, but it abruptly swings open and I'm almost taken aback by surprise. As if waiting for my arrival, Mr Jay just open the door at the perfect second. Well, I guess the monitors in his secret room are serving their purpose so well. I'm taking a mental note to behave properly and not do something weird whenever I'm in this building. There are secret eyes watching everyone and everything.

Mr Jay stands in front of me with a half bored, half stony expression. I'm not sure if this is the version of him that I have been hoping to see. Not that I expect a lot, but like, don't we have some sort of chemistry between us? Didn't we share a kiss yesterday? A knot in my stomach shifts and I'm at loss for words as my eyes checks out his perfect suit, fitted pants and a pair of polished loafers that surely will be expensive. Like, insanely expensive. He glances at his wrist watch, no doubt checking to see if I'm late by a minute.

"You're lucky," he says, " I would've sacked you if you had show up a minute late."

Oh wow, he's still being such a brat, immature, confusing, hormonal imbalanced and temperamental jerk. I nod my head and greet. "Good Morning, Sir."

He doesn't respond to that. "This, is where you sit, from today on," he points, to the new set of desk and executive chair. "You're not allowed in my office until I call you. I don't need to tell you what to do, but just so. . . Make necessary adjustments to my meeting schedule with Chairman Hwang of Royce Group. Contact his secretary for the new details. Also, cancel today's 5:00PM event." He stops to rub the back of his neck, flexing his muscles and stretching out. "We're leaving for Busan by twelve. In my private jet."

Now his hands are burying themselves in the pocket of his suit trousers, and I'm trying not to over stare at the toned muscles on his tights. Taebak! He's really muscular up and down. I don't even focus on the fact that he just boasted to me about having a private jet.

"I'm not talking to a wall. . . Am I?"

Of course you are! I obviously look like a wall without any feeling in your eyes! "Ah, yes, no. . . I'm sorry. I'll make the adjustments right away Sir." I say, and make for the desk, hissing in silence and sarcastically mimicking his voice in my head.

"Miss Han."

"Yes?"

"Erase that thing, from yesterday. All of it."

"What. . . Thing. . . Sir? My brain is slow at first, but now I'm sure that he mean the kiss.

"It shouldn't have happened. Its a regrettable mistake. Erase it from your memory."

Of course, I expected just as much, jerk! It's not like you're the first man to kiss me on this universe! Huh! My heart shifts a little and I can't help the annoyance making me want to just slap him thrice for saying that.

But I nod. "I understand, Sir." And I sit.

Three hours later, I'm still sitting and angrily flipping through pages. Lots and lots of pages containing some vital information about other cosmetic brands that are partnering with us; information about the esteemed profiles who have invested hugely in our company; and a lot more of other unnecessary information. There's so much to do in such a little span of time, ah, my head. . . That disrespectful jerk!

I hope he'll quickly find a replacement so I can go back to my old position, working as a regular staff at our Facial Creams Substitute Department in Daegu. It's less tasking and more flexible than being a Personal Secretary to this bratty Mr Jay who's so hard to understand. What again? A regrettable mistake? I should erase it from my memory? Seriously? He probably thinks I don't know how to maintain professionalism in office? He shouldn't have even come to help me. Imbecile. Dumb fool. It's okay for me to judge him now, right? I mean, look what he's done to me, its only fair if I curse him to feel good.

I huff as I check the time again. . . Oh my gosh, its already past ten. I'm suppose to call the Chief Security Officer Mr Kenny Park to remind him that we're leaving for Busan by twelve. Or maybe I should go see him personally for this first time? I need to grab coffee on the way, anyway.

I place a pen mid section of the large, hardcopy to mark where I stopped before I stand up and start motioning to the elevator. All of a sudden, my hair is being pulled back and I stop in my track, quickly turning myself around. What the heck is wrong with this guy?

Mr Jay is checking out my pink ribbon in his hand. I can't make out if he's faking an amusement or just innocently amused by a woman's hair ribbon?

"This is not a high school for you to be using this thing, it looks like an old material from your grandma's hair tie collection," he's stretching the band and curiously observing it as if he's doing some highly important experiment, "keep your hair down when you're in office, Miss Han." And my ribbon goes straight into his pocket before he pass me.

My grandma's hair tie collection? He's making me to loose brain cells. I follow after him, but my feet just stops moving before I can step into the elevator. Should I just go back and sit? I don't even want to breathe the same air with this guy.

"Are you getting in?" He ask, arching up a thick eyebrow.

"Ah, yes. I should get in." I mumble.

As I step in, I start feeling the heat in the elevator prickling my skin as the engine begin to pull us down. I can't make out if the heat is coming from my own internal organs or perhaps, from the body next to me? I'm suddenly conscious about my looks, is my mascara smudged? Is my lipstick looking natural or is the bright red color popping too much? Gosh, why am I being so weird?

Mr Jay's hand goes up to his tie, moves it around a little and then put his hand back to his side. The other hand is buried inside his pocket, and I don't know if he's playing with the 'grandma's hair tie collection' ribbon or just dancing around with his fingers? The pocket just can't seem to relax and stop moving around. When is he planning to return my ribbon anyway? Should I ask him?

"You're supposed to serve me coffee at ten," he says, looking up ahead as the elevator door parts open. "Its part of your work as my personal secretary." Before I know it, six to seven employees, mostly women, are already nodding their heads and greeting him, body nervously shaking, and lips dripping with honorifics, but bratty Mr Jung doesn't even spare them a glance. I feel so bad for them all.

I follow him with a "Yes Sir," more to myself because he's already gone too far into the long lobby. It looks like he's going to visit Mr Kenny Park, the Chief Security Officer.

Inside the boss' private jet, I try my best to contain my excitement, resisting the urge to take selfies and send them to Jenny —knowing that she'll probably curse me out for it. Two elegant milky leathered cushions stretch like beds on both sides of the jet. I'm occupying the one on the right.

Of course, this is the VIP part of the jet where I'm the only one allowed to stay in here with the boss. There are two more milky cushions with curved backs meant as seats, separated by a white leathered center in the middle —which already has a bottle of wine and a tumbler on it.

The boss is occupying the cushion bed on the left, his left arm resting over his head and covering his handsome stony face as if waiting for sleep to take him away. In the next fifty or fifty five minutes, we'll be in Busan hopefully. I wonder if the time will allow him to take a proper nap? But then again, he's a busy man who probably don't get enough sleep at night. I can't imagine myself bearing such a huge responsibility as the CEO of some mega conglomerate. It's going to be tiring. It might be the culprit making him to act the way he does to other people. Responsibilities can be mentally overwhelming. Maddening, even.

I open my new laptop to continue what I've started back in the office, which is typing the schedule for next week. I'm just hoping that this will be my first and last schedule adjustment as his 'personal secretary' who's always expected to ‘serve him coffee at ten'.

Darn it. I shouldn't even be here in the first place.