CHAPTER FOUR
952 Words
MASON.
My secretary must be glitching. She had to be.
I was an airtight perfectionist, obsessed with control, and liked things going my way, no surprises, no mistakes. And Kiana Howard? She had mastered that rhythm of precision so flawlessly, it was almost eerie.
She knew my dos and don'ts, what I liked and didn't like, how to make the tone of the e-mails just right, exactly how to make his coffee, how cool I liked my office, how I liked to colour code my desk. She wasn't efficient, she was flawless.
That was why recent events grated on my nerves like sandpaper on glass.
It had started small, missed details here, an incomplete briefing there. I’d dismissed it at first, chalking it up to an off day. Everyone had those, even her. But then it spiralled. Her emails were curt and riddled with errors, she avoided me in meetings, and once, she even forgot my lunch order and added sugar in my coffee, a cardinal sin in my book.
I didn’t lose control over things. There were very few occasions. One was when I hired her. I hadn’t expected myself to. It was a very wild card. But she hadn’t disappointed and even surpassed my every expectation for her. And there was the office retreat. The night I’d…
I stopped mid-thought, my hands tightening into fists.
I shouldn't have let that happen. But I’d admittedly been drunk, which was rare. And she—well, she shouldn't have been there. That was what I kept telling himself, at any rate, as I woke up in the morning and it turned out it wasn't the nameless stranger I thought I’d made arrangements with but her.
Kiana.
I’d spent five years policing myself around her, five years fighting off every single improper thought. I was her boss, for crying out loud. But one night, one slip-up, and it had all gone to hell.
I’d thought we’d moved on from that part and it was water under the bridge as she too acted like it never happened. Yet here she was, fumbling, avoidant, and challenging my already pulled-tight patience.
Then came the conference.
"I quit," she'd said, clear and sharp as a slap.
I’d scoffed, thinking it heat-of-the-moment drama. But as I entered my office the next morning, finding her not waiting for me with a steaming cup of black coffee, my stomach twisted.
It was 8:02 a.m. Maybe she was running late. Yeah. New York traffic and all.
She hadn’t arrived by 9am and I was fuming, and by 10:00, the anger bubbling beneath my skin was about to blow.
That's when the door opened.
And Kiana strolled in, not walked, strolled, like she had all the time in the world. Her hair was loose, she wore sneakers, and her usual sharp, tailored outfits had been swapped for jeans and a hoodie.
I did not like this one bit.
My gaze snapped to hers, my jaw tightening. “You’re late.”
She shrugged, completely unfazed. “It won’t matter now.”
I froze, my eyes narrowing as she approached my desk and set a crisp white envelope on it.
“What’s this?” I asked, my voice dangerously low.
She didn’t flinch. Instead, she tipped her chin up, her dark eyes sparking with rebellion. “A resignation letter.”
My hand hovered over the envelope, but I didn’t touch it. My eyes locked on hers, piercing. “Is this a joke?”
“I assure you, it’s not.” Her tone was calm, but her voice trembled just slightly. “I’ve worked here long enough, Mason. It’s time for me to move on.”
The way she said my name—Mason, not Mr. Sinclair—set my teeth on edge. I loved it and I hated it.
“You can’t be serious.” I leaned back in my chair, lacing my fingers together to portray absolute calm and keep them from shaking. Within me, I felt the onset of rising panic. “You’re having a tantrum. That’s what this is.”
Her lips twitched into a humorless smile. “A tantrum? Really?”
"You heard me," I said sharply. "I'll give you two days to rethink this. When you're done playing games, you'll return to work as usual." I turned my chair away from her, dismissing her with the motion.
There was a long, heavy silence.
Then, under her breath, she muttered, "f*****g prick."
My jaw clenched as the door slammed behind her. I stared at the resignation letter on my desk, my chest tight. With a growl of frustration, I snatched it up and tossed it into the trash.
She'd be back.
She always came back.
———-
But she didn't.
A day passed. Two. Then a week.
Every day, I would enter my office expecting her to be sitting there, waiting with my coffee and the schedule for the day, with her usual efficiency. That chair remained empty.
Two weeks changed into a month. Then two months.
The office wasn't the same without her. My company's figures began to show more reds than it ever had. There were mix ups, complications. My well oiled machine was not as smooth running as it should be. In truth, Sinclair Corps almost went under.
The new assistant was fine. But she wasn't Kiana. Nobody could ever be. Kiana had been the glue that held the company together. I had just never realized just how dependent I’d gotten upon her. Until she was no longer there.
The years went by, and though I wouldn't ever admit it to anyone, not even to myself , I, Mason Sinclair waited.
But Kiana Howard never returned.
- Writer
