The CEO'S Secretary

The New Boss

Chapter 2.

!? The man looked entirely at the lady now standing before him. His eyes had lingered on her chest. A button had fled it’s hole, revealing her t**s that were held in a white laced bra.

“I’m so sorry, it was__”

“XYZ, Miss”, the man interrupted, then turned back to his computer.

Isabella c****d her head at him, “ XY__? Oh s**t!”

She cursed in realization. Her hands flew to her chest at that moment and she quickly turned her back to him.

Isabella did her button and was bashful as she took the seat he had offered. She sat with her clasped hands on her thighs. Her fingers gripped each other. She couldn’t settle her gaze on a spot. Her eyes scoured around the wide office, disconcerted by what just happened. She distracted herself with the view of the masculine space. Anything that could get her helpless mind off her clownish show of clumsiness and, unexpectedly, the handsome stranger. His scent filled the room, and it wasn’t helping. He smelled like cinnamon and lavender in spring.

She observed a few changes in the office.

Someone had replaced the white marble desk Richard used with a larger and darker shade. Desk chairs with red pads replaced the previous brown chairs. It complimented the dark oak desk perfectly.

If he had done the revamping, then he had excellent taste, Isabella thought. His taste was as perfect as his looks.

The computer, desk organizer, almost everything was new-looking.

It looked like she had been off from work for weeks, not overnight. Things were different.

He had moved some stuff as well. The file rack that used to be on the left side of the room was forgotten in a far corner. There stood a bigger, well-furnished shelf replacement.

She remembered the painting on the wall directly above the desk. She had liked the portrait of flowers flourishing on a summer afternoon. Now, it was a portrait of the face sitting in front of her that had replaced it.

There was a sculptor of a weird, large rock right beside the office dispenser. It looked like it had cost a fortune.

The man finally looked up from his computer and faced her. He wore a staid expression. His eyes gave nothing away.

“Miss Campbell.” He offered a handshake from across the table.

Isabella took his hand, and she had lingered with the feeling of the softness of his broad palms.

Quickly, she regained herself, smiled nervously, and let him go. She tried salvaging the situation, but she had matured the awkwardness in the air all by herself.

“I am Claude Lincoln. I succeeded Richard Harvey, and you will work under me starting today.”

“I don’t understand. What happened to Mr. Richard?”

“Miss. Campbell, I’m afraid, but that is not your concern.” He gave a tight smile, and she withdrew.

Claude Lincoln was trying to give her the impression that he was anything but friendly.

“I’ll keep it quick.” He picked some files from the table. “I don’t take lateness kindly. Things have changed around here, and if you value your job, you’d better listen.”

“I apologize, Mr. Lincoln, but traffic was—”

He raised a finger, smiling but without humor. “One more thing. I don’t care about your excuses. The next time you’re late, I’m cutting your pay. If it repeats, I will walk you out the door myself.”

He looked her straight in the eye and drew closer to the desk, resting his arms.

“I understand Richard was lenient with all of you. Now I’m not threatening to be a thorn in anyone’s flesh, but I have my rules, and they cannot be broken if you love your job.”

He relaxed in his chair and gazed at her, jutting his chin.

“I’m sorry, sir, but your words sound so much like a threat, and I don’t take threats lightly.”

She didn’t avert her gaze or cower under his hard stare, not even for a second. Isabella challenged the arrogant man in his seat.

Claude clicked his tongue and scoffed out

chuckle. “I don’t care how you make threats, Miss Campbell.”

She couldn’t believe him. This man irked her to the bone.

“I just don’t need my employee showing up late to work every day with a lipstick stain on her shirt. And what happened earlier? Let’s say it was an accident so I’m letting it slide. I’d prefer strict professionalism from now henceforth.”

Isabella couldn’t find her footing. She was flustered and mortified as she searched for her clothing. There was no stain. She saw nothing, and she had felt enraged by the way he had played with her mind so easily.

Then, Claude stood at all of his glorious height. He made a curve around the table and came to her side. Resting against the table’s edge, he tipped her chin to find her face.

Isabella lost herself in his fierce gaze. Time stopped around her. She couldn’t understand what was happening.

Claude left her chin and traced the v-cut neck of her shirt with the same finger. She gulped. She couldn’t breathe. Heat warmed her cheeks. Her blood pumped through her veins at a rate of knots.

His hands were so close. Just a little more and he would find where her n*****s were like hard points.

He stopped in line with her collarbone, then he smiled. Mischief danced in his eyes. “There it is.”

She angled her neck and lifted the flap to find the stain. It was deep and blaring red. She had never felt so embarrassed in a long while. Everyone had seen her wear a stain that bold so confidently. Isabella cringed inwardly.

“I’ll wash this off right away. It won’t happen again.”

He cast a small smile. His expression was cryptic. “That riff blouse. Don’t wear it before me again, ever.”

Isabella’s face washed into a grimace. Who did he think he was? Was he belittling her and being narcissistic? People like him disgusted her.

Isabella fumed like a boiling pot. “My choice of clothes isn’t your concern, Mr. Lincoln.”

He stood and returned to his side of the desk.

“No? It’s my office, Miss Campbell. My rules,” he said. “You’re okay with that, or I can sign your letter of resignation right now.”

With that, she stared at him one last time and took her leave, letting her heels click with extra force on the tiled ground.

She hated him. She hated him with a passion as fat as his bank account.

***

Isabella sighed as she touched her lipstick, so it took her lips from red to scarlet. What she wouldn’t give is to be somewhere with her college friends, having fun and gossiping about boys, then fashion, then boys some more. But she had more important things to do. She removed her coat from the rack and put it on, then surveyed herself from head to toe in the full-length mirror by the door. “You look gorgeous as always” She said to her reflection with a wink, then kissed a picture of her late mother that had a permanent space on the shoe rack. The woman in the picture was beautiful. Blonde hair, golden brown eyes and the prettiest smile. Isabelle was glad she had inherited that smile. All her other features, however, she inherited from her father. The man who had shaped her life to what it was. She took one last look at her reflection in the mirror, at her Belle Identity. With a smirk, she flicked the light switch.

“Belle, thank God you’re here” her coworker Lisa sighed, taking off the faux fur coat and fanning herself with her hands “I do not know why, but tonight is so crowded and Sally called in sick. So it’s just me, you and Loretta tonight.”

“Well, I’d better get to work then” Belle smiled, strolling into the changing room.

She didn’t hate working at the club. She loved to dance, and she loved it when people loved her dance. What was most uncomfortable was all the touching that was involved.

Isabella wasn’t poor. She didn’t need the money from the club to survive. She only came here for a mission she must accomplish. All the hotshots in Manhattan come to this club. It was big, loud, and exclusive. It also had many private rooms. She was sure she would find some information there. Something good enough to back up their investigation.

“Ladies and gentlemen”, The Mc called, and the crowd cheered.

“I present to you, Belle” She loved the way the crowd erupted in a loud chorus of cheers and catcalls as she walked onstage. She didn’t mind expert attention. If her dream came true, she would buy this place and have her face in front of every magazine to be published. She laughed inwardly at her own jokes.

“Wanna know what I’ll be doing here tonight?” She asked in a soft, airy, seductive tone and the crowd cheered, “I can’t hear you Manhattan, do you really wanna know?”

“Yes!!!” the crowd yelled as one.

“Well then, as you wish”, She dropped the mic with a bang and then slipped her overcoat off from her shoulders, revealing her sexiness in a red she-laced bikini.

Def Leppard's poured some sugar on me, filled the room and Isabella moved in rhythm. She danced graciously, feeling every bit of the moment, before the music came to an abrupt pause.

“Yo!”

A voice yelled into a mic from the VIP. It startled Isabella as much as it did the crowd. Isabella regained her balance and moved from the pole. She squinted to see the man standing on a table with a bottle of champagne in one hand.

“who the heck is that?” Isabella asked no one in particular. She shaded her face from the spotlight that blinded her view.

“Get your ass up here, doll.. Now!”

The hoarse voice of the man commanded.

Isabella looked more closely, and this time, she viewed his face or thought she did. The air around her seized for a moment and the stage seemed smaller. She was agape shocked and couldn’t blink. She rubbed her eyes wishing she saw differently. But no, everything about her view seemed right. What was Claude Lincoln doing in pulse night and ordering her to his table?

“OMG!”

Isabella voiced, he was headed towards her. Isabella was rigid, unable to move. She could give anything for the ground to open and swallow her at that moment.