Reborn As His Obsession

Chapter 19

I stepped out of the car, and he shut the door behind me.

“You're with the email of appointment right?” He asked. I searched through my bag and brought out my phone. I had already downloaded a copy of the employment letter.

He scanned through it briefly. “Good.”

We entered through the automated doors, and the first thing that hit my skin was the cool air, which was a sharp contrast to the scorching morning sun.

“Good morning, may I help you?” A woman asked as we entered. Her broad warm smile made me almost giggle. Perhaps she thought that we were clients who came to buy a piece.

“Good morning,” Fred returned, and stretched his hand for a handshake. “She's actually here for the job of a…” His voice trailed off and he gestured towards me.

“An art gallery assistant,” I chipped in instantly.

Fred nodded his head.

“Then, follow me. You can call me Rita,” She led us towards the stairs.

“Mr. Alex, the new staff is present.”

The man behind the desk was focused on the laptop in front of him.

“Is it Bella Sinclair?” He asked, still not looking up from the laptop.

“Yes Sir,”

“Good,” He lifted his head and faced us. “And you?” He asked, with his hand pointed at Fred.

“I'm a friend,” Fred admitted. There was a hint of shakiness in his voice and I wondered if he was getting nervous standing there.

The man at the desk took off his spectacles and shrugged his shoulders a bit.

“Rita, take the new staff around and brief her on her duties. I want everything to run perfectly today.”

“Yes sir.”

When we left his office and walked down the stairs, Fred still didn't leave. He followed me as Rita introduced me to all the specific places at the art gallery.

The walls were lined with framed art pieces, each displayed behind glass panels.

“When someone comes in, you give them a recommendation for each art piece. Your CV said that you went to art school, so you should know how to identify the different types of art pieces.”

I swallowed hard. My knowledge of art was embarrassingly shallow. It was Bella that knew about art, and not me. Anyways, there was nothing that a simple research through the internet couldn't solve.

She led me to another section where sculptures were kept. I recognized a few animal sculptures, though others looked strange and abstract. Art was a bit weird to me because I couldn't understand what some of the artworks meant.

“And this is the section where artworks that haven't yet been commissioned are kept.”

I looked at the area that Rita referred to. Most of them were pencil drawings. At least, I knew what a pencil drawing was.

The red haired tour guide— Rita, kept explaining how I was to carry out my job.

“You'll sit over there. When a client walks in, find out what they're looking for and guide them through the purchase.”

I glanced at the corner that she said I'd be sitting at. It looked like a receptionist's desk. Did it mean that I'd be doing two jobs? Both an art gallery attendant and a receptionist.

As if reading my thoughts, Rita cleared the air. “The receptionist would fill in late today, so you should just handle till he comes.”

I muttered, “Okay,” even though I wasn't okay with it. It sounded unprofessional to tell someone that they were going to be carrying out two jobs when they didn't plan for it. I was already trapped in this job that I lacked passion for, unlike Bella that seemed to like art.

“Call me when work is over. I'd pick you up,” Fred assured me. He leaned closer to me as if wanting to kiss me, but I took several steps backwards.

“Bye babe,” He added and headed for the door.

I took a deep breath and settled in my place after he left. More than twenty minutes had passed, and one person had not walked through the front door.

Ivy's text made my phone chime— “You didn't hit me with the details of last night.”

I rolled my eyes at the text as I remembered last night's occurrence. I wondered if it would be disappointing to her if I told her that I wasn't continuing my job as a stripper.

Before I could set the phone aside, her call came in. I declined the incoming call and sent her a message instead. “I'm at work, I'll call you later.”

She sent multiple question marks, meaning that she didn't understand what I meant. Then, she sent an emoji that was placing his hand on the chin as if thinking. It was now followed by a text, “Don't tell me you spent the night at his place. I'm so happy for you.” She also added an excited looking emoji at the end.

“Nope. I didn't even last up to an hour at his place last night. I quit my job as a stripper.”

“What? Why?” Ivy burst out through the text.

“Where are you working now?” She asked, without even waiting for me to respond to the first one.

“I'm working at Elan art gallery, Fred got me the job.”

“Fred?” She texted back and included an emoji that was giving me a side eye. “That bastard is probably trying to be nice and get back into your life. Cut off all ties with him.”

“Yeah. I just thanked him and nothing else.” The door opened and someone who I presumed was the first client for today walked in.

“Talk to you later. Bye.”

Ivy still typed back. “We still have to talk when you're done from work.”

I read her message and dropped the phone. I moved out from behind the counter and greeted the client with polite formality.

“Good morning ma'am and welcome to the Elan art gallery.”

She responded by twitching her lips into a slight smile. She wore a thick bob hairstyle and took off her dark sunshades to reveal heavily mascara eyes. Her lips were painted red, and she wore red ankle boots as well.

Her designer bag swayed minimally as she catwalked towards one of the art pieces on the wall. She played with the sun glasses in her hands as she surveyed the piece. It was a painting of a cute kitten and butterflies around it.

“That is actually one of our…”

“Save it. I already know what art is.” She cut me short.

I felt a bit embarrassed and dispirited by her outburst. Were the clients always this rude?

She strode over to another art piece at a corner and looked at it. This time around, I didn't bother telling her anything about the pieces.

“How much is this?” She asked as she returned to the first painting.

“Two thousand dollars,” Rita said from behind me.

I turned around to see Rita there. I hadn't noticed when she stood behind me. The young lady scoffed slightly. I didn't know if that was a rich people scoff or just a scoff of disinterest. But I knew one thing, and it was that scoffing is rude.

“Perhaps, I'd come back another day.” She proposed finally.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at her. She put on her dark sunglasses and walked towards the door.

She made me stress my limbs in standing up to attend to her, whereas, she ended up not making a purchase.

I had never really worked in a professional setting before. I had only taken up a job as a babysitter while still going to college. I have a biochemistry degree, but when I came across Steve, he assured me that I didn't need to work, promised to put me on a monthly allowance, that he didn't like his women to stress.

That was still in the first year, when things were still rosy between us, before he changed to a monster. My parents didn't hesitate about the marriage because he had also promised to help my father clear a huge debt with the bank who were threatening to take his house and few assets as collateral.

It was that same debt that Steve cleared out of his own freewill that he later used to taunt and humiliate me the day I caught him cheating.

I returned to my position and tried hard to brush thoughts of Steve out of my mind.

Another fifteen minutes had passed and there was no client in view. The only people that visited were some artists who came to drop their art pieces at the gallery for commissioning.

It was Rita that took care of all of that. I tapped my fingers lazily on the desk as the visitors left. I was about to excuse myself to the restroom, when the door opened and a client who I recognized walked inside.