CHAPTER FIVE
1077 Words
Did he make a mistake? It has to be a mistake. I refocused my attention on Gigi without dwelling too much on the message. He'll probably delete it when he figures he sent it to the wrong person.
—--
Tristan's POV
I walked up to the fridge, grabbed a chilled bottle of water, and chugged the contents.
What a day!
The side of my lips twitched into a… half-smile?
Why am I smiling? I should be furious.
But here I am—calm and collected and, worst of all, unaffected.
My train of thought was interrupted by the ringing of my cell phone.
“Father,” I acknowledged, bringing the phone to my ear.
“I don't know what happened or how you plan to appease Mr. Smith.”
“And if I refuse?” I challenged.
“And you think you have the choice to refuse?” he said. His voice was sharp, like a blade slicing through air. “You're seriously going to let a business partner go because of some willful secretary?” he added.
I could feel the heat of his anger radiating from the phone, but even that won't be enough to make me give in.
“First of all, she wasn't being willful, and she was kind enough not to press charges. He assaulted her in a public space. He's lucky I'm not suing him. Now if you'll excuse me, I have things to do.”
I hung up without waiting for a response.
I've had enough of him.
---
Narrator's POV
The next day…
Layla arrived at the office as per usual. She sat at her desk, taking peeks at her phone.
The previous day's message from Tristan displayed on her screen.
She had even checked several times the night before if she messed up the contact. But it still read ‘Insufferable Boss.’ It really was from Tristan.
Maybe he was having a change of heart after all.
Tristan soon came, and Layla greeted with more enthusiasm than usual, expecting the message from yesterday had changed things—but Tristan met her with his usual cold and condescending gaze, with no verbal reply.
Weird! she thought but decided to make his coffee anyway.
She served the coffee, expecting a reaction. But still, nothing.
Tristan's phone rang. It was Melissa. He hung up the call without a second thought.
Layla didn't know who called, but she saw his eyes flash with irritation for a second before turning back to their indifferent state.
“What is my schedule?” his voice rang out, colder than usual.
“There’s no specific activity scheduled for you today, sir,” Layla replied, less cheerfully. She wondered what was happening.
“You may leave.”
Odd. No taunting whatsoever.
The day passed by slowly.
Layla kept glancing at Tristan through the see-through glass walls. His eyes never left his laptop the whole time.
After contemplating repeatedly, Layla stood to go into his office.
She paused halfway, attempting to go back, but stopped to go again.
Deciding not to meddle, she went back to her seat, but the intercom rang immediately.
“Come into my office.”
Swallowing hard, Layla went into the office nervously.
“You called for me?” she said as she stepped into the office.
“You had something to tell me?” he questioned sharply, raising his head to look at her.
“Huh?” She was obviously confused.
“You were coming in?”
Shit. He saw me, she lamented internally.
“I was concerned, sir. You seem…” she hesitated, “...grumpy,” she completed, lowering her gaze.
“Grumpy?” he asked, focusing his entire attention on her.
“You…” Layla hesitated again. “...you usually are grumpy. Just, it’s a little extra than usual…” she added.
“Oh—” he said simply, his eyes flickering with something unreadable.
Layla panicked inwardly.
Did I overdo it? I was just being concerned though…
“Over there...” Tristan interrupted her thoughts.
She looked towards the direction he pointed at.
“Those papers need shredding. Since you're so less busy you notice my mood, you might as well get some work done.”
---
Layla's POV
“What?!” I screamed.
His only response was a look saying You heard me.
Heck I did… but why?
There was a pile… scratch that… there was a mountain.
“Dismissed,” his sharp voice rang out before I could protest further.
The next moment, he stood up.
“Get it done before closing from work today.”
Then he took his jacket and left.
He left. He left, leaving me alone to deal with this.
God, I'll murder this man one day, I declared, seething in rage.
I looked at the shredder, then at the mountain, and at the shredder again.
Should I just drop dead? I reasoned. Oh… I could fake a medical emergency, I thought, smiling wantonly.
Or just quit and be a farmer. My imaginary tears were running wild.
---
Hours later…
It was already past work hours, but I was still here. Why? Because I have a childish boss.
I sighed as I put the last paper into the shredder.
All. Done.
I picked up my phone and saw it was already late into the night. Great.
Stepping out of his office, I walked to my cubicle and picked up my bag.
Then I heard the sounds of footsteps… Footsteps? Oh no, this is how horror movies start…
“Who's that?” I asked, my heart hammering in my chest.
No response.
Is this how I die?
“Who's there?” I called out again, and Tristan emerged from the shadows.
“Sir…?” What's he doing here? And why is he staggering?
He was about to fall, and I ran forward to grab him.
“Sir...? Are you drunk?” I asked the obvious, as he clearly reeked of alcohol.
I dragged him—literally—into his office and was about to set him on the sofa when he pushed me away.
Still concerned, I went closer…
“Are you fine, sir?”
“Get away from me. You filthy liar,” he shouted, his voice heavy with drunkenness.
“Liar?” I was obviously confused.
“I hate you, Mel… why are you always… ugh… just get away from me,” he said, drunkenness dripping from his voice.
Mel? Who's Mel?!
- Writer
