His Ruthless Obsession

Chapter 9

DAISY’S POV

My alarm went off at five-thirty in the morning. I hated it immediately. For a few seconds, I lay flat on my bed staring at the ceiling and wondering if pretending to be sick was a reasonable career choice.

Then reality slapped me. I had bills to pay, I had responsibilities and unfortunately, I had Darrell Blackwood as my boss.

With a groan, I drag myself out of bed.

By six forty-five, I was already standing inside Blackwood Corp. The building was usually quiet because most employees hadn't arrived yet. But as for me, I had to arrive early, not because I love my job or was excited, but because I valued my life.

The first thing I did was head straight to the office kitchen. I stood in front of the coffee machine with my arms folded. The only thing ringing in my head was black coffee, no sugar, no cream and strong enough to keep him awake through useless meetings.

How difficult can coffee be? Apparently very difficult, because I'd spent five whole minutes staring at coffee beans like they were an exam question.

Yesterday, I survived the Henderson file and today, I have to fight for my life against black coffee.

After five minutes of staring at the machine, I finally made a cup of coffee. It looked nice and smelled normal.

I carried it to Darrell’s office and knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

I entered and placed the cup on his desk. “Your coffee, sir.”

Without looking away from his laptop, he picked up the cup and took a sip. Then he placed it down, “It's weak.”

Weak? How? The coffee looked black enough to summon a demon. So how was it weak?

“Would you like me to make another one?”

“Yes, please.”

I picked up the coffee, forced a polite smile and walked out.

Back at the coffee station. I made another cup, this time I added more coffee. If the first one was weak, this one would probably wake the dead.

I went into his office and placed it in front of him. Darrell took a sip.

“Too bitter.”

I stared at him, “You said the first one was weak?”

“It was, and this one is bitter.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but then closed it again. Keeping my job was becoming a full-time struggle and I won't let my mouth ruin me.

The third cup lasted exactly 10 seconds.

“Too hot.”

The fourth cup he said, was 'over-extracted’. I didn't even know what that meant.

By the fifth attempt, I was questioning every decision that led me here. I placed the cup on his table, he took a sip and went silent. Finally, he nodded his head and said “Acceptable.”

There was that word again, he didn't say excellent, impressive, or good. Just acceptable. I wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or offended.

“Thank you, sir.”

As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me. “Tomorrow, make it exactly like this.”

I nearly cried. How was I supposed to recreate something I made through pure desperation? I wasn't even thinking when I was making it. I quickly nodded and hurried to the doorway.

I finally settled into my desk and opened my schedule for the day. Sarah had left a neatly arranged planner on the table for me. I picked it up and flipped through the pages. It was piled up with meeting schedules, phone extensions, appointment reminders, flight reservations, client contact list….

The words looked like they were multiplying the longer I looked at them. “So,” I whispered to myself. “I'm really his secretary.”

Compared to yesterday's Henderson file, today's workload looked a little bit merciful. Just a little.

I took a deep breath, switched on my computer and opened the company calendar. It was packed from morning till evening. Every hour belonged to somebody. Investors. Lawyers. Department heads. Clients whose names I couldn't even pronounce. How one human being managed to survive this schedule was beyond me.

Not long after, the phone on the table rang. I nearly jumped out of my chair. After yesterday's experience, every ringing phone felt like a warning. I picked up the receiver carefully, “Hello?”

A woman's voice answered, “ Hello, this is the legal department. Has Mr Blackwood signed the Meridian contract?

I blinked repeatedly, Meridian? Contract?

“Uhmm, one minute please.” I pressed the hold button and immediately began opening the drawers, searching every single document and folder on my desk.

Finally, I found a folder labelled Meridian Holdings, and I almost kissed it. I picked up the phone again, “Yes, I found it, I'll send it over immediately.” The woman thanked me before hanging up.

I released a slow breath. One problem solved and I'm sure there are thousands more.

A few minutes later, Sarah stopped beside my desk.

“Miss Carter.”

I looked up, “How may I be of help?”

“Help?” She pointed toward a folder, “The legal department is waiting.”

“Oh!” I said and hurriedly stood up then I grabbed the folder carelessly. It almost dropped on the floor but Sarah caught it just in time.

“Relax.”

“I'm relaxed,” I said and smiled faintly.

She gave me a look, smiled back before walking away. I picked up the folder and dashed to the legal department.

When I returned, another task was already waiting for me. Emily placed a stack of envelopes beside my keyboard.

“These are the outgoing mail.”

I looked at her in confusion, “And what do I do with them?”

“Check every address, stamp the envelopes and call the courier.”

I stared at the envelopes before counting them, “There are thirty.”

“They are thirty-two,” Emily corrected.

I counted again and she was right. I sat on my chair immediately and began working.

For the next hour, I checked addresses one after the other making sure I didn't skip any. Halfway through, I almost sealed an empty document and nearly posted a document without a stamp. Luckily for me, Emily noticed before I embarrassed myself. She quietly slid the paper back to me.

“You missed this”

I looked down at the signature line and realised. “Oh, thank you, Emily.”

“It's fine, it happens.”

Today I actually saw the serious side of Emily and it's fantastic. She wasn't laughing or teasing, she simply helped me fix it, and I appreciated that more than she realised.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. I answered phone calls, booked meeting rooms, printed reports and forwarded emails to Sarah.

By lunch time, I was really exhausted. I had never respected secretaries but now I'm wondering how they stayed sane.

Just when I thought I would take a short break, my computer chimed. It was a new email from Darrell Blackwood. The message contains only a sentence.

Come to my office and bring your notebook.

I stared at the screen for several seconds unsure of what to do. Why the hell would Darrell want me in his office with a notebook?

Taking my notebook, I stood and smoothed the wrinkles from my blouse then headed towards Darrell's office.

For reasons I couldn't explain, walking toward Darrell's office still felt like walking into an exam I hadn't prepared for.