The Arrogant Mr. Ryker

Demetria stared at Rodolfo, eyes unblinking. He was rambling on and on about something, something she couldn't make out. Moisture trickled down her front. She felt wet and warm and sticky. So very sticky between her breasts. "I'm so sorry," he was saying. "I swear, it was an accident, girl." An accident. She thought about the last time she'd been in an accident. It wasn't anything major. She'd bumped into a tree whilst riding her bicycle when she was thirteen years old. She had scraped her knee and her elbow and was okay after a few days. Thirteen. She was twenty-four now, living in a world where accidents weren't as clumsy, and where they certainly cost a lot. It wasn't a mere bump or bruise anymore. No, the cost was much higher than that. Like a two-hundred dollar Gucci top, for example. She looked down at her once crisp white top. It was a beautiful piece of fabric, the front knotted and the sleeves draped off her shoulders. She vividly remembered passing by that corner shop and staring at it for months, thinking it was chic, ultra classy and elegant, and wondering how many pieces of her soul she would sell just to have it. Staring down at it now, she realized that it was no longer crisp, nor white. Nor beautiful. No, it was now a quite distinct shade of earth brown. She eyed Rodolfo once again, her senses finally returning, her brain registering what had just happened. Her top, her only expensive top, ruined. Damaged beyond repair. Rodolfo had his right hand close to his mouth. He was chewing at his fingernails as he surveyed her. "Dems," he began slowly, his wide eyes searching the depths of her soul, the soul that wasn't there, the soul she sold for the top. "Don't go into shock now. Stay with me. Stay." "I'm going to kill you, Rodolfo." He pouted his lips, eyes widening in fear. "It really was an accident. I tripped over and it just happened. God, I feel terrible. I know how much you love this top." He glanced over at Carmen, who had this look of tremendous pity on her face. She felt even angrier. "Oh, you have no idea." She was about to throw curses at him and literally bite his head off when their supervisor, Leon Stefano barged into their office. His green eyes were wide and a cigarette dangled between his lips. He looked extremely agitated. He pointed a finger at no one in particular, and said in a loud, croaky voice: "f*****g organize yourselves!" Carmen Carson, who was sitting right across Demetria, raised a brow at him. "What's the matter, Leon?" "Edward Ryker called for a staff meeting. f**k me, he didn't sound too happy. Get off your f*****g asses and line up outside. Go!" Carmen stood. "Did he mention what the meeting was about?" "He didn't," he shook his head. "But we best get the f**k outside before s**t rains down on us." The four of them rushed to line up outside their office by the corridor. Rodolfo muttering uncertainties under his breath. To Demetria, he mouthed, "I'm really sorry about your top." Demetria felt dread creep up her spine, eyeing her top once more before cursing internally. Her anger didn't subside, and the more she thought about it, the stronger the urge to strangle Rodolfo was. All around them, fellow employees bustled about, the smell of panic and confusion permeating the air. She placed her hands over her chest, trying to cover the massive stain discoloring her top. Someone nudged her elbow, and when she turned around she found Leon peeling his blazer off. "Here, take it," he said. "You sure as f**k are going to need it." She mouthed a 'thank you' and shrugged it on gratefully. It was far too large, the sleeves too long and the hem ended mid-thigh, just a little above her pencil skirt. But it was much better than nothing at all. Their wait was filled with mild agony and desperation. Leon moved about restlessly, clearly needing a cigarette and Rodolfo wouldn't stop complaining, talking Carmen's ear off as they kept their eyes firmly on the darkened corridor ahead. Demetria glared at him. They needed their jobs. No one wanted to get fired, that was their main concern. After a couple of minutes, a small group of people emerged from the darkness. She tried making out Edward Ryker's stumpy figure, but discovered that either her eyes were deceiving her or he wasn't present at all. When they finally stopped before them, she found that the latter was precise. There was no kind old man among the group of people. Instead, there was a fair-haired stunning woman, a man in his mid-forties much like Leon, a man that seemed to be in his early twenties, sporting the most ridiculous pair of glasses she had ever seen and finally, another sandy-haired, tall and green-eyed man that seemed to be in his early thirties by the looks of it. His lips were in a tight line, his demeanor formidable. He was dressed in a fine grey suit. He stepped forward, his movements elegant and precise. He eyed each of them warily before asking in an unmistakably condescending tone, "Is this it for the Humanities Department?" His voice was deep, emanating power and authority. They shifted slightly, eyeing each other uncertainly. Leon rubbed his mouth. "I suppose so." The man raised a fine brow. "Interesting," he mused. A few moments of awkward silence passed by before he spoke again. "Well, I was expecting a larger crowd, but since this is all there is, here it goes: my name is Andrew Ryker, you will refer to me as Mr. Ryker only. From this day onwards, I will be the temporary Chief Executive Officer, or as it is lamely put, CEO, of this company. My grandfather, Edward Ryker, is indisposed and will only recommence his duties after he is in better health. Any questions?" None of them said a single word in response. He raised another brow. "Is everyone in this company deaf?" Leon cleared his throat, a futile gesture since his voice still came out raspy. "Is he alright?" he asked, expressing his concerns for the gentle and kind man. He put a hand up. "You do not need to be preoccupied with his health. I assure you he is being well taken care of, by people who know exactly what they're doing." Leon nodded, stepped back. His eyes swept over them once more, and then, to Demetria's dismay, landed on her. First they searched her face keenly before they lowered down to her ruined top and Leon's oversized blazer. He slowly approached her, his fingers reaching out and brushing the blazer aside, surveying the damage. Meanwhile, her hand itched to slap it away, feeling bare and exposed under his scrutiny. Her face reddened. He stepped away, wiping his hand on his own blazer. "Clumsiness is not something I will tolerate in this company. This company is all about precision, sublimity and neatness." His eyes found her top once more. "If you cannot abide by these simple rules, then I'm afraid this is not the place for you." She gritted her teeth, feeling a spark of irritation course through her veins. "It was an accident." His eyes met hers. "I'm sure it was." He waved the pretty blonde over and said something to her under his breath, his eyes still on Demetria. She gulped, worry filling her. The blonde smiled politely and walked off, not glancing at Demetria once. "If you have no more questions," he said, "then this is where I leave you. You," he pointed at Leon. "I'll expect a list of names of every employee in the Humanities Department and the records of every employee in this company. Send it all up to my office in about an hour. Do not keep me waiting." They didn't hesitate in returning to their office after Andrew Ryker had left them. Rodolfo sunk into his seat and let out a heavy sigh. "Didn't sound too happy or sounded sick?" He directed his question at Leon. "f**k's sake, Leon." "At least none of us are getting fired," Carmen said, smoothing her hair back and opening drawers, pulling out loads of documents and paging through them. Leon rubbed his chin, fishing out a cigarette from the pocket of his shirt. "For now." After work, Demetria headed straight home. Her entire body ached as a wave of exhaustion hit her. The other Mr. Ryker had them on their toes the entire day, waiting on his every beck and call. The man was insolent and pompous, and she instinctively knew she was in for a rubbish year. She rushed up the stairs, her legs aching and sweat trickling down her neck. Once she reached the door to her apartment, she fished the keys out of her bag and unlocked the door, trudging inside. Brie was sprawled across her bed once she entered the bedroom, typing away on her laptop. Demetria dropped her bag on the floor and moved towards her closet. She began undressing almost instantly, not bearing the sight of her ruined, once-extravagant top any longer. Rodolfo's apologies did absolutely nothing for her, in fact they infuriated her. She would need some time before speaking to him again. Tossing it on the floor, she fished a plain shirt from her closet and put it on. A whistle left Brie's lips. When Demetria faced her, she saw that Brie was eyeing her top sadly and in disbelief. "What the hell happened?" "You know what, Brianna? I don't want to talk about it." Brie watched her closely. "You seem upset." "No shit." "What happened at work?" Demetria turned to fix her a pointed look. Brie rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I meant apart from the whole 'ruining your favorite top' ordeal. Come on, Dem. I know you, and I'm studying psychology. You can't hide anything from me." Demetria inched closer to her bed and took a seat by the edge of it. She ran a hand through her tangled her and rubbed her face. "Mr. Ryker is ill, so he'll have to be replaced." Brie nodded. "And you met the replacement today and you detest the man." "How'd you know it was a man?" "Psychology tricks," Brie said, a small smile gracing her lips. "But come on, tell me. What did this replacement do that upset you this badly?" "He's the ultimate pain in the ass, for starters." She stood, pacing around the small space of their room. "He threatened to fire me today after he saw the top. Seriously? It's just one of those terrible days I have to sleep away." Brie sighed. "You'll get over it. You should take a shower, have some lasagne I made. Yes, it's in the oven." She smiled after she caught Demetria's expression. "You're an angel" "I know," Brie smiled. "Oh, I almost forgot. Alex was looking for you, by the way," she nonchalantly stated. Demetria turned to face her, a crease forming between her brows, her dreamy expression gone. "When was that? What did he want?" "Earlier." Brie said. "He wanted to know where you were. What you were doing. The usual thing." "But he knows I'm at work." Demetria said, a sharp edge to her tone. "Why would he come looking for me?" "I'm not the one sleeping with him," Brie raised a brow, peeling her eyes off her laptop and gazing at her. "You should ask him yourself." She turned back to it, typed for a few moments and then she stood, shutting her laptop. She moved towards the door, "You wanna know what I think? I think he's a lunatic. Oh, wait. You already know that. That's probably because I tell you this every day." Demetria rolled her eyes. "It isn't funny, Brie." "It certainly isn't." They went into the kitchen. Brie continued. "He's sick, Dem. How many times do I have to tell you this?" "Brie, he isn’t sick." She snapped. "He has a personality disorder. That doesn't constitute as being sick, okay? You're studying psychology, you should know this." "I do know that, I also know that it's incurable. The only way you can get help is when you acknowledge it and seek help. He doesn't think there's anything wrong with him despite what the results said." "He is getting help." "But does he really think he has a problem, Demetria?" Demetria sighed, rubbed her face. "I don't want to talk about it." "Fine." They ate in silence and as Demetria finished the kitchen up, she thought about her day and thought about Brie's words. No, Alex was a decent guy. Brie was wrong; she didn't know him the way she did. She didn't know who Alex truly was. With that in thought, she went to bed and laid under the covers for a while, silently praying for a better day the next day. Satisfied, she turned around and closed her eyes, willing sleep to wrap its tentacles around her and drag her under.