Coming Home

Chapter 1 Venice was in the middle of sending a farewell gift to one of Max's mistress when a blonde woman walked in. She strode in with her long legs clad in a pair of fishnet stockings, her heels clicking against the glass floor. Her dress was so tight Venice wondered how the other woman could breathe in it. The blonde woman suddenly stopped in front of her. "May I help you, ma'am?" Venice asked. The blonde eyed her three-piece suit she ironed last night, her nose stuck up in the air as if she'd just descended from the royals. "I want to talk to Max. Get him for me, will you?" "I'm afraid he's not available right now, ma'am. He's currently--" "I don't care what he's doing. Get him out. Right now." Venice knew a demand when she heard it. She counted inside her head. One. Two. Three. Breathe. "My apologies but I only take orders from Mr. Smith," Venice said as calmly as she could. "Besides, he's currently engaged in an important business meeting. He strictly advised for no interruption unless it's an emergency." "This is an emergency," the woman huffed. "What is the emergency, ma'am?" The blonde raised her chin, turning her fake nose toward her. b***h. "It's a personal matter that stays between me and Maxwell." Venice couldn't remember a time when she didn't handle her boss's personal affairs. She'd lost count of the women coming into the office, like the blonde woman demanding to pull her boss out of his meetings. Their intimidation and power had worked the first couple of months since she was hired. But as the time went by, she grew a thicker skin and no longer feared their threats. Some of his mistresses had caused a scene. Probably to get some sort of reaction from him, but Max's face had remained the same. Cold. Detached. Uninterested. The cool, calm and collected demeanor that never cracked as the scene unfolded before him. Pick a generous gift and send it off with a letter. That was Max's usual instructions every week, on a Monday morning just before she lets him know his schedule for the day. The letter usually consists of an apology and an explanation to why their affair had ended briefly. Most times it worked since most women he dated was only after his money and the benefits they could get from him. It was never about love or affection. To these women, it was all about money and the expensive gifts he lavished them with. "Look, plain girl." Ouch. No one had called her that in a long time. The last time anyone had called her "plain Jane" was back in high school. The blonde stood by her desk, towering over her. "I don't have all day to waste my time waiting for your boss. Get him out of that stupid gathering or else I'll--" "Barbara," came the smooth, silky masculine voice that Venice knew so well. The blonde woman--Barbara--squealed as she rushed into Max's arms. Venice watched in fascination as Barbara wrapped her long arms around him, her scarlet nails glinting against the sunlight. "I knew you were going to come out and see me," she said happily. “What are you doing here? I thought we’ve agreed not to visit each other anymore.” Max replied, his tone as warm as the breeze of a winter day. A manicured finger grazed his jawline. “Oh, come on, Max. We both know what you’ll miss out on if you chose to do this.” Max gripped the blonde’s hand before yanking it off him. "The next time I see your face around here again, you'll wish you've never met me." Venice watched in shock as Barbara retreated back to the elevator. His heavy stare made her glance back at her boss. She swallowed. Crap. His eyes glowered at her direction. “What did I tell you about keeping my personal business separated from work?” he spoke quietly. Almost like a whisper. "Sir, she insisted--" she stopped. There was no point in arguing with him. Venice had learnt a long time ago that there was no winning against Maxwell Smith. Venice sat up straight, her eyes going up, up, until she found a pair of azure eyes glaring back at her. She was so close to him that she could see tiny specks of gold in his eyes, glinting back at her as her throat went dry. Her tongue darted out to lick her parchment-dry lips. “Is there anything you need, sir?” His eyes flickered down to her mouth. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t let that happen again, Miss. Zane.” She merely nodded. "Yes, sir." He regarded her with that intense look before walking back to his office. It was only when she heard the door click softly that she sagged against her chair. She exhaled. The familiar scent of pastry and coffee usually calmed her down. But today the scent made her want to gag. She had come close to being fired. She hadn't been this nervous for the last two years since she was hired as Maxwell's secretary. The door to his office cracked open, revealing Max as he stood by the door. “On a second thought, Miss. Zane. Bring me coffee in my office.” She stood up immediately, not needing to be told twice. She wondered, after numerous times of making mistakes to why he hadn’t thought about firing her. Not that she wanted to anyway. She needed this job too much to keep food on the table. Though no one had dared to hire an unexperienced nobody like her. She dropped out of college since she couldn't afford to pay for her tuition fee. The only choice she had back then was to take on a job. Any job that would pay off the bills and keep her and her aunt fed. Smith Incorporation was the only company who decided to hire her. She hadn't complained when she got the job as the CEO's secretary. She actually remembered being excited and telling her aunt about it. Now years later, that excitement had whitered and died. So here she was, running toward the elevator as it quickly closed. She cursed her legs for being short. Running had never been her strong forte. Now she had to take the stairs and that would take at least fifteen minutes before she could reach the lobby. Great. Just great. This day couldn’t get any better. *** "Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?" Venice placed the coffee cup carefully on the mahogany table. She straightened, her gaze clashing with her boss's. A sudden jolt of sensation spiraled down her spine. Butterflies erupted in the pit of her belly, her eyes darting away from his. Stupid, stupid. How long would it take for her to get over the attraction? "You're dismissed, Miss. Zane." His words cut through her thoughts. She scrambled to her feet, heading directly to the door. He called out her name and she halted. "Yes, sir?" "Pick up my suit from the drycleaner, will you?" he answered. Venice nodded. "Will do, sir. What time is it ready for pick up?" "Around lunch time." He stroked his chin thoughtfully, as if trying to remember what he had to do. "Make sure to cancel the rest of my meetings today, too. I'm not coming back to the office until tomorrow morning." She clamped her teeth down on her bottom lip, fighting back the urge to ask why. His personal business didn't concern her. So she settled with a small smile and nodded once more. Max seemed satisfied by her response before dismissing her with a flick of his hand. "I swear that man has got some serious issue." Her co-worker and best friend, Jill McGregor declared as soon as Venice's butt hit her chair. "Doesn't surprise me anymore," she muttered absently, her hands skimming over the keyboard. "I mean," Jill continued. "Is he even human? He's always just so grumpy and tough and a little bit of an introvert, if you ask me." "Introvert?" I repeated. "Yeah," Jill nodded. "I feel like he's one of those employers who likes to hide themselves behind their office doors and bury themselves in paper work." "You're exaggerating." Though Venice couldn't help but agree since it had an element of truth to it. Maxwell Smith never left his office unless it was necessary. He didn't waste time going out to lunch or parties with the other executives. Never bothered to communicate with his people other than bark out an order. So it was a wonder to everyone when she'd managed to put up with him. "Call it whatever you want but he's a weirdo," before Jill added, "and a loner too." "Shouldn't you be working on those?" she gestured toward her friend's computer screen where a half-done document waited. Her friend wrinkled her nose before shifting back to her desk. "You're no fun sometimes." There had been a time when she'd been fun. But ever since her aunt passed away, Venice had lost her sense of fun and locked herself up in her apartment for weeks. She couldn't bring herself to eat, drink, let alone shower. She stayed immobile in her bed. Her muscles and joints grew weak as each day passed by. Until one day, Jill had come over and dragged her ass out of bed. Her best friend forced her to eat and even threatened to give her a bath if she didn't cooperate. Jill's coming over had been a wake up call. She was mourning, something Jill had understood. But it didn't mean she should give up on life and wallow herself into sadness and pity. The hollow inside her chest hadn't gone away--she didn't think it would ever go away. Janette had been her strength, her warrior and the only person she had loved and trusted. After her parents ditched her as a baby, Janette had become her parent figure growing up. She looked after her, cared for her as if she was truly her own. So when Alzheimer's got the best of her aunt's memory, it broke her slowly. So keeping her job meant she could get an increase salary eventually. And she did. Her hard work had been rewarded and she managed to bring luxury into Janette's life. Even if it was just a short amount of time. "Venice." Jill's voice cut through the hazy memory. "Don't you need to pick up Max's suit before lunchtime?" She glanced at her watch. s**t. Ten minutes before twelve. She hated going out to the drycleaners around this time since it meant a lot of people picking up their own stuff. The workers have a fifteen minute break before they open the line again. And waiting wasn't something Venice was a big fan of. She had better things to do than pick her boss's suit! "I just hate my job sometimes," she muttered before trudging toward the elevator. Jill threw her head back and laughed. "Well, you gotta do what you gotta do to keep food on the table." Ain't that right. She punched the button on the wall waiting for the doors to slide open when she felt everyone around her tensed. The air thickened and the laughter died down. A heavy feeling settled in her chest. She regretted her words the minute they came out of her mouth. She should have kept her trap shut. It was wise to keep quiet and merely observe. But to let her tongue loose, it was just plain stupid. "Are you on your way to pick up my suit, Miss Zane?" Maxwell's voice came out of nowhere that she almost jumped in the air. "Yes, sir," she whispered, glad she didn't stutter. She had a bad habit of stuttering when she was nervous, making her look even guiltier. "Good. I'll come with since I need to talk to you anyway." Crap. Crap. Crap. If the stunt she pulled earlier this morning hadn't gotten her fired, this probably would. Why would he need to talk to me now? Couldn't he have done it earlier? She tried not to groan in frustration. Of all things he needed to hear, Max had to hear her say she hated her job. What perfect timing!