The Arrogant Mr. Ryker

02 : Mr. Ryker

She dropped the pile of papers onto her desk, wiping the perspiration from her brow. To say she was exhausted was an understatement; she was positively dead on the inside. The entire building was turned upside down. It seemed their new boss had everyone working from opening time to closing time nonstop, with absolutely no breaks in between. He wanted everything organized his way. He was an insufferable asshole.

Leon stormed in suddenly, moving to his desk and plucking a cigarette from the pocket of his pants. He lit up with a lighter he had fished from the same place, and took a slow drag. He puffed the smoke out, clicked his tongue. "f*****g cunt."

Rodolfo walked in carrying a box, no doubt filled with archives from the looks of it. He dropped into onto his desk the same way Demetria had. He briefly glanced at Leon, shaking his head in disbelief. "Smoking indoors, Leon? Really? Are the stress levels that high?"

Leon studied him. "You have no idea."

"I've had enough!" Rodolfo declared, sinking into his chair. "I need a damn break."

Demetria decided that she too needed a break. In fact, she was desperately craving coffee. She had an idea. "You know what, I can make a quick stop at Carlo's Coffee Roasters just down the street."

"You would?" Rodolfo mused. "God, you're such a sweetheart, Dems."

She glowered at him, remembering the previous day's incident, when he had spilled coffee on her. On her Gucci top. He had been trying to get on her good side desperately, but she wasn't going to forgive him just yet. In fact, perhaps going there wasn't such a good idea.

"The place with chocolate muffins?" Leon asked. "Count me in."

There was no way of chickening out any longer, so she collected their monies, fished hers from her handbag and exited the building. The streets were busy, as usual in Manhattan. She began walking towards the small café, which was a good five minutes away, enjoying the cool air on her skin, finally breathing properly. That building was suffocating her, and she never did like being trapped in one place for too long.

Once she got there, she greeted the youth behind the counter, making sure to put on her best smile so her order would be done quickly because the place was packed. It was noon. It had all right to be. She could not hang around for too long, she needed to get back as soon as she possibly could.

Her order, three cappuccinos and three chocolate muffins, was done after approximately ten minutes. She rushed back to the company, making sure to keep the steaming cups as far away from her body as she possibly could, her arm fully extended. She couldn't afford another incident like the last one. Currently, her Gucci top was in bleach and she was sincerely hoping for the best.

She entered the building, greeting a few people she was acquainted with on her way in, and moved past the frenzied employees, carefully avoiding them, into her office. She found Leon and Rodolfo in there, pacing about the office.

She put on a frown. "What's—"

"There you are!" Leon barked, his iridescent blueish-green eyes wide and filled with panic. "Christ, what took you so long?"

Before she asked what was happening, Rodolfo cut in. "Mr. Ryker summoned you to his office."

She paused. "Mr. Ryker?"

"The asshole replacement, yes." He confirmed. He pointed up at the wall. "Intercom."

Leon took the coffees and the bag of warm muffins off her hands. "You better get going. He does not like to be kept waiting."

Running a hand through her thick curly hair to smooth it down and straightening her plain black skirt and beige blouse, she began making her way to the man's office. She took the elevator, reached the fifth floor, rounded a corner and there she was. His name was in bold on the door. She briefly informed the secretary by his office, Cecilia, of her arrival and then knocked on the door. There was no response at first, and then she heard a rather harsh 'enter' and turned the knob.

He was sitting behind the mahogany desk, his eyes fixed on a paper in front of him. He signed it and then put it away, going for another one from a neat stack right beside him. His office was neat, impeccably clean. The faint smell of detergent lingered in the air, the floor was polished and the furniture glittered under the bright lights. Why the lights were on during the day, she couldn’t tell. Behind him was a massive window that displayed all of Manhattan. It was a lovely sight.

She closed the door behind her and dared to take a step forward. When she considered announcing herself after realizing he wasn't going to speak up, he actually did. "You're late, Miss Cole."

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I apologize—"

"Where were you?" He questioned. "Did you not hear the announcement?"

She scowled, but answered him politely nonetheless. "I was at a coffee shop nearby, getting something to eat."

He nodded. "Putting work aside to grab lunch. I must say, I'm not in the least impressed."

A crease formed between her brows. She knew she should have kept quiet, but the words tumbled out of her lips before she even realized it. "So, what? Am I supposed to starve?"

"You're supposed to prioritize, Miss Cole." He didn't look up as he spoke, but she could tell that he was mildly irritated. "That is exactly what I expect from all my employees."

"Well, how are your employees supposed to function if they have no food in their systems?"

He looked up then, his eyes boring into hers. "What are you suggesting?"

"Well, for starters you could open a small cafeteria—"

"That is out of the question," he interrupted her, "if you've ever taken some time to look around, you would have noticed that there isn't space in this company for that kind of thing."

She crossed her arm over her chest. "Then I don't see where the problem is in stepping out for a few minutes to grab some lunch."

He was tapping his pen against his desk, his eyes never leaving her. He then placed the pen on the pen-holder by the edge of his desk and stood abruptly, buttoning his blazer up. "You've got a mouth on you, don't you Miss Cole?"

"Sir—"

"I have no use for employees like you in my company. First the coffee stain and now this insolent behavior." He seethed, merely inches away from her now, and she could feel his breath on her face. It was minty, inviting. She cringed. He continued, "If you want to remain here, then you will have to do so on my terms. Mine, not yours. Is that understood?"

She held his eyes for a few moments, defying him, her pride swelling up in her chest. He wasn’t looking away either, his eyes were searching hers, he towered over her. After a few seconds, however, she lowered them. "Yes," she said in a small voice.

"Good," he said, walking back to his desk and having a seat on his black chair. "Now that that's out of the way, I have an offer for you."

Her eyes bulged. Her breath hitched in her throat. Had she heard him right? "I beg your pardon?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, a storm rolling behind his clear eyes. His mouth was a taut line. "I do not like repeating myself, Miss Cole. I said I have an offer for you."

"For me?" she asked in pure disbelief. When she caught a glimpse of his morbid expression and could practically taste his sour mood in the air around them, she quickly said, "What—what's the offer all about?"

How had they gotten to that point?

He took his time responding. He was surveying her, studying her, his hands clasped in front of him. He looked deep in thought. She suddenly felt uneasy, not wanting to avert her gaze but not feeling courageous enough to hold his. What was he going on about?

He leaned back in his chair. "As you surely know, I'm new in this company. There is much work to do around here and an extra pair of hands is always needed. I need someone competent enough, someone I can trust. I need someone to run errands for me, to ready things for me in my stead."

"So," she moistened her lips. "you want me to assist you with your work?"

"I need a personal assistant, yes." His eyes were blazing now, complementing his sandy hair perfectly.

She nodded, having already made up her mind. Sure, the man was exhausting and petulant, with not much regard for employees like her and she didn't even want to think about the amount of work that awaited her. Or how he came to the conclusion that she was the right employee for the job. But the job would most certainly pay well, well she assumed it would, and she needed the money. She most certainly needed the money.

She reckoned asking him about her salary, but decided against it. "I accept your offer."

"Good," he said, the corners of his lips twitching, "you can get started."