My Ex Waited In Line For My Autograph

CHAPTER 6 - SUCH A SMALL F*CKING WORLD.

CLEO CLEMENTINE.

Work life has me panting heavily like a frustrated dog. Right now, I’m walking into the huge building of OmniVision Global Media, with my heart beating at rocket speed.

I reach the reception table. “Hi, I’m Cleo Clementine…”

I’m really hoping she has been told what to do with that name, or else.

“Hi, this way please.”

I follow behind until we reach a door and she pauses. “You go through here. Manager Hayes and the C.E.O. are waiting.”

I nod.

Swallowing hard, I arrange my outfit, which is basically a black, straight business wear gown that reaches my knee, and make sure my slicked-back bun with a few strands out is also still professionally laid, then I push the door open, stepping inside the office.

A woman I assume to be Manager Hayes is standing while a man I assume to be the C.E.O. is seated, but he looks familiar; I mean, I could be wrong.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” I blurt out.

Manager Hayes nods and smiles at me. “It’s okay, nothing special has happened yet.”

Then I let my eyes wander around until it settles on the man sitting in the C.E.O’s chair.

I swear I’ve seen him somewhere.

He is reading a particular document, so he hasn’t seen me, but as soon as he raises his head, he glares at me. I almost peed myself.

“Hamburger?”

Now memory begins to kick in, "Runaway Bull?” I voice out before I can stop myself.

God f*****g dammit!

“You both already know each other?” Manager Hayes asks, her gaze drifting from me to the C.E.O.

"No!” We both yell in unison.

I roll my eyes, cursing under my breath. Unless it's not under my breath at all, "Where on Saturn would I know this fool from?"

“Fool? You hungry money-thief."

He faces manager Hayes. “What is this stuff doing here?"

Stuff, as in me? I'm stuff?

He snaps his head towards me, “Hey hamburger, what happened to scrambling your GPS so we never accidentally bump into each other?”

This can't be happening. Wait - because he's in the C.E.O.'s chair doesn't actually make him the C.E.O.; he could be his brother, or a thief.

I vote - THIEF.

Scoffing, I cross my arms in front of my chest and roll my eyes “I did scramble my GPS; I avoided going to all the places we met, so I won’t be unfortunate enough to meet you again. By any chance, did you intentionally stalk me and create a situation for us to meet again just so I’ll regret something? That level of pettiness is so dirt-cheap it makes a free sample look expensive.”

“You always find a way to create a narrative that favours you,” he retorts, then faces Manager Hayes again. “What the hell is this cheap hamburger doing here? Don't tell me she's the new secretary! Just don't!”

“Relax, I'm not the new secretary. I'm actually a secret agent sent here to investigate who asked for your opinion,” I respond before the manager can find her words. “Creating awkward situations to meet me? Get off that chair right now, you petty, irritating, childish, runaway bull!”

“Sir, she is the new secretary,” Manager Hayes finally finds words to explain.

I turn around to face her. “You don’t have to act with him, Manager Hayes. I know this runaway bull is fake, and I’ll prove it today.”

“And how the VIP f**k are you going to prove that?" He snaps at me. “You thief."

“You're just projecting what you are on me," I snap back, sticking my tongue out. "Why else would you be seated in a chair that's not even yours? THIEFFFFFF.”

Manager Hayes shakes her head, her eyes softening as if pleading with me to stop talking. “I’m not acting; he’s the C.E.O and if you really want this job, I suggest you stop talking.”

Runaway Bull points towards me. “She’s fired! Right this minute! Kick her out."

“Sir, it’s an emergency, and she’s the only one available to fill the role.”

I watch Manager Hayes and the seeming C.E.O. argue.

“I don’t care. Anything but her, even a dog would do.”

“A dog? I think you’re beginning to go too far!” I snap, taking steps closer to him.

“Don't let her get any closer to me! She's dangerous."

“Miss Cleo, could you stay mute for a minute?” Manager Hayes immediately stops me, doing the eye thing again.

“This woman lacks the ability to be mute even for a second,” I hear Runaway Bull snap.

“It’s just for a few days, sir; she must stay for now,” Manager Hayes tries to reason with him.

He stays mute for a while; we just war with our eyes. He’s glaring at me, and I’m doing it back.

I still don't buy the news of him being the C.E.O. Can't be.

“Get out and take the hamburger with you,” he finally says. “After those few days… fire her!”

Really petty.

Manager Hayes shows me to my office, just a room right in front of Runaway Bull’s, a fishbowl office with zero visual privacy. He can see me from his own office without even trying.

Reaching the office, Manager Hayes turns towards me. “Everything you need to settle into work is in that file on your desk,” she says.

I nod in understanding. “Is there any way you could change my office?”

“Since you’re his secretary, you need to be close to him. If you want to keep working here, I suggest you try getting on his good side before your trial days are over,” she says before walking out.

Feeling like my knees can no longer take the tension, I collapse into my office chair, take out my phone and begin to search for the company. I refuse to believe he’s the C.E.O.; he has to be fake.

For my own good. He needs to be, because that's the only way I would survive here.

Get on his good side, my ass.

‘The C.E.O. of OmniVision Global Media’. His face pops up immediately. “Theophilus Prescott, young C.E.O. and founder,” I read out.

He’s really the C.E.O.? What C.E.O. goes around in jeans and a T-shirt?

Shit! s**t! s**t! He brought this on himself, and myself too.

Oh God, I really, really need this job though, or I'll starve.

Suddenly the office phone begins to ring. I pick it up only to hear a familiar voice: “Get over here!”

I look up to see him glaring at me through the glass, and the shock makes me drop both the phone and myself, hitting my knees in the process.

“Now!” his voice echoes through the phone’s speaker.

Forget getting on his good side, I'm going to die from embarrassment.

I get up from the ground. I can't afford to piss him off more than he’s already pissed off at me, so I rush over. “Sir Theo…”

I pause.

Am I supposed to call him that? That sounds too friendly, and our situation isn’t exactly friendly.

“Sir Prescott?” I correct myself. “Mr Prescott?”

“And what gives you the right to call me that?” he growls.

Now, he's just nitpicking.

I swallow hard. Really hard.

He looks like he’s about to eat me raw. I mean, like a wild animal pouncing on their prey and tearing them limb from limb.

“Sir Theophilus Prescott? Isn’t anything better than calling you Runaway Bull? I’ll just call you Theo; it’s easier to pronounce,” I say as softly as I can, even adding the most fraudulent smile ever so my words don’t feel offensive enough for him to revoke his grace and fire me on the spot.

“Cleo… Theo… doesn’t that sound…” I pause, laughing awkwardly.

Am I doing too much?

He folds his hands under the table, relaxing in his chair, and I use the time to take in his full view.

He’s dressed in black pants and a rich chocolate brown shirt that is rolled up professionally a little, giving the old-money, young heir elegance. His straight light brown hair that shines in the sun is slickly combed to the back, with brow-line glasses that make him look like the hottest nerd I ever stood in front of.

“I want to see you dare to call me Runaway Bull now,” he says, dragging me out of my thoughts.

Gosh, he’s hot! Why the f**k was I even rude to him in the first place? Was I blind, or did hunger completely eat up my brain and every sense of judgment? I should have tried winning points from him and not the other way around, but instead I acted like a hungry f*****g demon.

“I wouldn’t dare, sir. And I’m sorry, sir,” I say calmly, bowing my head slightly as if that's enough for a fresh start.

He leans forward, setting his still-folded arms on the table. I let my gaze follow every movement; I notice his gold, money-dripping wristwatch, his knuckle rings, and the free, unavoidable aesthetic from his maker: his veins. Dammit! I want to see him clench his fist. How many more veins would appear if he did that?

I also notice his neatly manicured nails; the only thing I don’t notice is the fact that I’m ogling and he already noticed just how much I'm gawking.

I slam my lips shut; I didn’t even know I’d forgotten to close them.

Shaking my head, I try to focus on the current situation.

“For what exactly?” His voice echoes in the room.

“Sorry?”

What were we talking about?

“What exactly are you sorry for?” he repeats in the most charismatic way possible.

“Oh…” I divert my gaze to my shoe. The more I look at this Theo damned Runaway Bull man, the more I forget why I’m here.

“Everything, sir! Our first meeting was a disaster, and I was terrible; like you said when we first met, I do regret it now. I swear I’m not a total nightmare; let’s just agree my survival instinct takes over when someone messes with my food.”

He’s quiet again, just staring at me the same way he did when I literally ordered a full table with his card.

Wait... I did that too?

I look up, and our gaze clashes. I immediately look away, back to my shoe.

It's safer looking at my shoes.

“Get ready, Hamburger. I have an actual meeting to attend, and you’ll be coming with me.”

Meeting? Just say hell.