LATE UGLY BETTY
1049 Words
RAFAEL VOSS
I watched Bella disappear into that crumbling shithole of an apartment building from the back of the Maybach, jaw clenched so tight it ached.
The place was a disgrace. Peeling paint, rusted balconies, dark water stains running like tears down the concrete. A drunk asshole stumbled past the car, nearly tripping over his own feet. Further down the block, some woman in a bathrobe was screaming into her phone while smoking like a chimney. Rats,actual f*****g rats darted across the sidewalk in broad daylight. Leaking pipes everywhere.
How the hell does the woman who screamed my name all weekend live in this sewer?
I kept my mouth shut. For now.
“Who do you live with?” I asked as her before she got out of the car and left.
“Just my best friend Luna,” she said, voice still husky from the weekend. “Sometimes her boyfriend crashes with us.”
I stayed quiet, staring at the building. Then I looked at her.
“I’ll email you the copy of the contract today.”
Bella froze, hand on the door.
“You don’t have my contact details.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
Pure panic flashed across her face for a split second. Interesting.
“What’s the matter, Bella?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “You don’t want me having your number?”
She forced a nervous smile and shook her head too quickly.
“No, it’s nothing. Really.”
She practically ran inside.
***
The executive floor was already on edge the second I stepped off the elevator in my charcoal Tom Ford suit.
No coffee, no briefing packet, and no quietly efficient Reyes waiting like clockwork.
My temper detonated.
“Where the hell is Reyes?” I barked, voice echoing across the bullpen.
People froze. Someone dropped a pen.
I yanked my tie loose.
“I want her on this floor in the next minute or heads will roll. Today is the Kuroda merger. I don’t have time for incompetence.”
Reyes, my assistant for the past year was never late. The woman was a machine. Quiet, mousy, dressed like a retired librarian who gave up on life, but ruthlessly competent. I couldn’t even remember her first name half the time. Everyone just called her Reyes. Or, when they were being cruel behind her back, Ugly Betty.
The elevator dinged, and Isabella Reyes came rushing out looking like a walking thrift store disaster. Baggy beige cardigan, long frumpy skirt, severe bun, massive glasses, metal braces, and... in this f*****g heatwave, a thick wool scarf wrapped around her neck.
I exploded.
“You’re late!” My voice carried across the entire floor. “On today of all days. No coffee, no notes, nothing. What the hell, Reyes?”
She flinched hard.
“Mr. Voss, I’m so sorry, I overslept—”
“Overslept?” I looked her up and down with pure disgust. “You dress like a pensioner who’s given up on life. Those grandma clothes are depressing. And the scarf? It’s thirty-two degrees outside. You look ridiculous like you spent more time putting that outfit together rather than you could make it to work!"
Snickers rippled through the bullpen. Her face turned beet red, eyes glassy with humiliation. The braces made her look even more pathetic when she stammered apologies.
“My office. Now!”
She followed me like a beaten dog.
All day she radiated strange, suffocating tension. She wouldn’t look me in the eye. Every time she came in, the air crackled. I assumed it was because I’d torn her apart publicly.
Good. Let her remember this.
Late afternoon, I called her in for the umpteenth time.
“Reyes. Close the door.”
She entered, head down. As she leaned over to place some files on my desk, her scarf slipped lower.
A dark, ugly bruise peeked out; a fresh hickey, deep purple with clear teeth marks beside it.
I stood up instantly.
“What the hell is that on your neck?”
She jerked violently like I’d slapped her, slapping a hand over the mark and frantically adjusting the scarf.
“It’s nothing, sir! Really, it’s—”
“Nothing?” My voice dropped dangerously. “You come in late, dressed like that, wearing fresh f*****g hickeys? Are you being abused? Some piece of s**t boyfriend putting hands on you?”
She looked absolutely mortified, eyes wide with panic behind those ugly glasses.
“No! No one is abusing me. Please, it’s personal, I’m sorry.”
I stared at her for a long moment. Innocent little Reyes. Quiet, competent, and frumpy as hell. The idea of someone hurting her didn’t sit right with me, even if she annoyed me.
“Finish the Kuroda summaries and the expense reports, then take the rest of the day off,” I said curtly. “And Reyes? Cover that s**t properly tomorrow.”
She nodded quickly and fled.
.
Alone in my office, I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my jaw. My thoughts drifted to her, Bella. The woman who had surrendered so beautifully all weekend, the one currently living in that rat-infested hellhole.
I picked up my phone and called Marco.
“Find one of my empty properties. Something nice, secure, and furnished. I’m moving a woman in. Soon.”
“Yes, boss.”
If I was going to keep f*****g a woman into oblivion, she deserved better than leaking ceilings and rats. Simple as that.
I was about to leave for the day when my phone rang; one of the luxury stores where I had accounts.
“Mr. Voss, this is security at Cartier. Someone just tried to use your black card for a very large purchase. The person claims you authorised it. We have them waiting.”
Rage ignited instantly, hot and violent.
“Hold them there,” I snarled. “I’m on my way.”
Who the f**k had the balls to steal from me?
Unless…
A dark suspicion bloomed. Bella had the card. I’d given it to her this morning. J am hoping that it's truly Bella, or Lord help me.
I grabbed my jacket, blood boiling with a toxic mix of fury and dark curiosity. This day had just become a lot more interesting.
- Writer
