Beyond His Cold Smile

Chapter 6: A Foul Morning

Early the next morning, Fenella was already walking toward the office before the sun had even begun to rise. Her company-provided accommodation was just a short walk away, close enough that she could save on fare and be at her desk early. She stopped by a small corner shop along the way, bought a simple sandwich and a cup of black coffee, then headed straight inside the towering glass building.

She stepped into the elevator, pressed the button for her floor, and was about to let the doors slide shut when a tall, good-looking, well-dressed man hurried over and slipped inside just in time.

The doors closed with a soft ding, and the elevator began to rise. The man stood a polite distance away at first then slowly turned his head. His gaze raked over her from scuffed flat shoes to tied-back hair, lingered on her plain office blouse, then drifted away like he’d wasted more attention than she deserved. He paused, smoothed the crisp cuff of his tailored suit jacket with deliberate slowness, and finally tossed her a cold, dismissive glance before he spoke.

“Fish vendors look more eye-catching than you do,” he said flatly, not even bothering to look her fully in the eye.

Fenella’s jaw dropped. She stared at him, stunned. “Excuse me?”

The man finally turned his head to meet her gaze, a cold, arrogant glint in his eyes. “I said you look worse than a street vendor.”

Fenella stood her ground, her back straight and her voice steady but firm. “Sir, I’m sorry, but I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. How dare you say such cruel things to a stranger like they’re some kind of compliment? Do you expect me to just stand here and take it?”

The man smirked and crossed his arms over his chest, looking thoroughly unbothered. “I’m just saying.”

Just then, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open on her floor. Without another word, Fenella stepped out and stormed away, leaving the rude man behind inside the elevator.

She was still fuming when she reached her desk, setting her coffee down a little harder than usual. “‘I’m just saying,’” she muttered under her breath, mimicking his arrogant tone and making an annoyed face. “What is wrong with people?”

She shook off the anger as best she could, pulled out her ledger sheets and calculator, and got straight to work. Rows of numbers and expense reports filled her screen, and she forced herself to focus, double-checking every entry to make sure not a single figure was out of place. She typed rapidly, sorted stacks of receipts, and cross-referenced records from the previous week, determined to let her work speak for itself instead of letting that stranger’s rude words throw her off. Whenever his comment drifted back into her mind, she took a slow breath and dove back into her tasks, working steadily and carefully until the clock edged closer to noon.

When lunch break came, Fenella and her coworker Jobelle went to the pantry, where more colleagues began to filter in to eat. Soon, whispers and gossip started spreading, everyone was talking about their Chief Executive Director, who had just returned from a business trip abroad.

Jobelle took a bite of her fried chicken, then glanced at Fenella. “Oh, by the way… you haven’t met Sir Greg, right?”

Fenella shook her head. “His picture wasn’t even in the staff photos during orientation when I was hired. I’ve never seen him at all.”

Jobelle nodded solemnly. “That’s actually on purpose, he doesn’t want his photo posted anywhere. But let me give you a quick piece of advice: avoid him at all costs if you want to survive working here.”

Fenella looked at her, curious but suddenly nervous too, she couldn’t risk losing this job. “Why? What’s he like?”

Jobelle leaned forward and lowered her voice. “He’s a terror boss, strict and a perfectionist. He’s also the youngest executive in the whole company, and on top of that, he’s every woman’s dream, rich, handsome, powerful. So the best thing we can do is keep our heads down, work quietly, and do our jobs perfectly.”

After lunch, everyone was back at their desks working when the door to their department suddenly flew open, no knock, no warning. Fenella’s desk was closest to the entrance, and when she looked up, her blood ran cold. Standing there was the very same man who had insulted her in the elevator that morning. Her department manager immediately shot to his feet, looking visibly nervous.

Fenella’s eyes darted to Jobelle, who was staring back at her with wide eyes and mouthing silently: It’s the Director.

Fenella gasped softly and quickly lowered her head, staring hard at her papers. She felt like the ground should just open up and swallow her whole right then. She heard his voice speak her name, but she pretended not to hear, hoping he might be talking to someone else.

Jobelle gently poked her arm. “Fenella,” she whispered.

Fenella sat up straight and forced herself to look at him. He was now leaning casually against her manager’s desk, his eyes fixed right on her. She put on her most polite, professional smile, though inside she was burning with irritation.

“Yes, Sir?” she asked evenly.

“Your lipstick doesn’t suit you,” Greg said plainly, his face completely serious. “Next time you buy makeup, try asking professional cosmetic ambassadors what shades actually suit you.”

Fenella clenched her pen so tightly her knuckles turned white, but she kept her voice steady. “Of course. Thank you for your concern, Sir.”

Greg simply rolled his eyes, ignored her completely, and turned to chat casually with her manager as if she didn’t even exist. Fenella sat back, seething with anger, every part of her wanting nothing more than to tear that arrogant man apart.

The rest of the workday dragged by slowly. Fenella tried her best to focus on her ledgers and reports, but Greg’s sharp, cutting words kept echoing in her mind again and again, distracting her. She kept her head down the whole time, relieved whenever he walked past her desk without stopping.

When the clock finally hit five and work was over, she let out a long breath she felt like she’d been holding all day. She walked out of the building with Jobelle in silence, their usual light chatter gone. Jobelle gave her arm a gentle, sympathetic squeeze before they parted ways near the accommodation.

“Forget what he said, Fenella. He’s just like that to everyone,” Jobelle said softly. But Fenella only gave a small, tired smile and nodded.

She walked straight to her small, neat room, closed the door softly behind her, and dropped her bag onto the bed. She kicked off her shoes one by one, pushing them aside like they were too heavy to carry any longer, then filled the bathroom sink with cool water. She leaned over, scrubbing hard at her lips until the last trace of the lipstick he’d mocked swirled away and vanished down the drain. Only then did she walk slowly over to the small mirror above the desk, stopping to stare at her own reflection.

She leaned closer, studying every part of her face with new, critical eyes. She touched her cheeks, her forehead, and her bare lips. Is there something wrong with me? she wondered, her throat tightening a little. Am I really that plain? Do I look worse than a street vendor? Is my lipstick really that bad? Am I ugly?

She stared at herself for a long time, searching for the flaws he had spoken of, doubt slowly creeping into her heart and settling heavy in her chest.