Familiar Strangers

Office Drama

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Frustrated now, I turned back to the receptionist.

“Look, I don’t want to quarrel with you. Can you just call his office and tell him Grandpa Johnson sent me.” I used Grandpa Johnson as I did not feel like giving out my name.

She scoffed.

“Before I call security to drag you out, it would be better if you leave on your own,” she said haughtily, like she owned the place. Judging by the way the others nodded along, she clearly thought she was the queen bee.

I laughed and leaned in, lowering my voice—fake whisper, very loud. “If you let me in, I might even introduce you to Antonio. After all, you want to climb into his bed too,” I said, winking.

Her cheeks flushed red—part anger, part being exposed.

“You’re talking nonsense! I’m just doing my job. I’ve been patient enough. Call security,” she snapped at one of the others.

A few moments later, security arrived. One of them looked at me and asked,

“Is there an issue, ma’am?”

I turned to the security men, and before I could even open my mouth, little Miss Queen Bee cut in.

“She’s obstructing our work. Send her out.”

“Miss, you’ll have to leave or we’ll drag you out,” the second guard added, already stepping closer.

I slowly turned back to the receptionist, my eyes dropping to her name tag. A smile tugged at my lips—not the nice kind.

“I don’t want to leave. And if anybody lays a hand on me, there will be trouble for you, Lizzy Baron.”

She laughed, sharp and dismissive. “Like I’d be scared of you.”

Right on cue.

“Miss Marissa.”

The voice cut through the tension like a knife.

Everyone froze.

Marcel, who had just walked in from outside, hurried toward us. The moment he got closer, he gave a small respectful bow.

“Miss Marissa,” he said again.

The color drained from Lizzy’s face so fast it was almost impressive.

The guards stiffened.

The other receptionists suddenly found the floor very interesting.

“When did you arrive, miss?”

I glanced at the receptionist, then back at Marcel. A slow, sly grin curved my lips.

“Oh my word, thank God you’re here, Marcel,” I said, clutching my chest like I’d barely survived a tragedy. “I arrived a very long time ago, but the receptionist wouldn’t let me in. She said I was here to climb Antonio’s bed.” I sniffed dramatically. “They even called security to drag me out. I was humiliated.”

If acting was a sport, I’d be holding a gold medal.

Marcel’s head snapped back towards the reception desk, his expression turning ice-cold. He bowed even lower to me.

“I’m very sorry, miss. We were in a meeting, and Master Antonio sent me on an errand, so I wasn’t here to receive you.”

Lizzy looked like she might actually pass out.

The guards shifted awkwardly, suddenly very invested in not existing.

As Antonio’s personal assistant, Marcel was more than staff—he was Antonio’s voice, his shield, his gatekeeper. If you couldn’t reach Antonio, you reached Marcel. Period.

So for someone like him to bow in apology, to admit he should have personally received a visitor, meant only one thing.

Whoever stood before him wasn’t just important.

Her status was untouchable.

The silence that followed was loud.

It was at this moment they knew that they messed up.

Before I could even blink, little Miss Queen Bee—Lizzy—was bowing and apologising.

“Please accept my apology,” she said, suddenly humble.

Like puppets, the other receptionists and even the security followed suit.

Figures. Lizzy was the type who feared power and trampled on anyone she thought was beneath her. If we were being honest—and I hate scaling people—she was firmly at the bottom of the ladder, not above anyone.

I couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge her. My hands were already aching from carrying the flask, so I turned to Marcel.

“Please, lead the way.”

He did.

We entered the elevator, which whisked us straight to the top floor. When we stepped out, we walked down a long, quiet hallway before stopping in front of Antonio’s office.

“He’s still in a meeting,” Marcel said. “He’ll be with you very soon.”

With that, he closed the door and left.

I set the bag containing the flask on a side table and finally took in the office.

Directly opposite the entrance was Antonio’s desk and chairs, and behind it, a floor-to-ceiling glass window. I could already picture him standing there, hands in his pockets, looking down at the rest of the world like some all-powerful ruler, plotting his next move.

To the right of the desk was a tall shelf lined with books. He really did read a lot—there was a full library at home too. On the left was a small sitting area: a two-seater couch, a single armchair, and a centre table. Behind that sat another door, immediately catching my curiosity.

Overall, the office was simple yet undeniably exquisite. Top-tier materials, expensive furniture—obviously.

But the colour ?

Monochrome. Black, white and grey.

Clean.Controlled.Efficient. Nothing extra.

And… boring.

Tch.

Not knowing what else to do, I walked over to the window. With Antonio’s image in mind, I stood there, looking over the world beneath me—tall buildings, tiny people, busy lives that looked so insignificant from up here.

“Ha… ha… ha…” I mimic an evil laugh

Okay, now I officially feel ridiculous.

I turned to the extra door in the room and slowly walked toward it, hand resting on the handle. My mind raced—should I go in or not?

Before I could decide, the other door creaked open and Antonio stepped in. My heart skipped a beat, and I froze, caught between curiosity and the sudden, undeniable awareness that he was here—right behind me, I bet he doesn't look happy seeing me at this spot.