Bending My Straight Boss

ALESSANDRO'S POINT OF VIEW Another beautiful but horrible day at work. Why beautiful? Because my boss is gorgeous. Why horrible? Because he’s an ass. An arrogant, cold Greek god. I buy our coffee from the coffee shop from the corner of the building, because Mr. Gorgeous Ass doesn't drink from somewhere else, and hope that this time we won’t get into an argument, otherwise tomorrow I'll buy him black coffee again, and blame the poor girl who didn't do anything wrong. But I need to vent somehow. When I have enough, I have my way of punishing him, and maybe I can't tell him to f**k off, but I can get my revenge in other ways. Because one thing is sure. Nobody walks all over me. Not even his gorgeous ass. Now, you may ask yourself why he doesn't fire me. That's easy. Because I’m the best P.A. there is, and nobody, ever, in human history, worked as his P.A. for as long as I did, and to everyone's shock and disbelief, still do. With a smile on my face I open the huge door where his name is written in big, silver letters, CEO DARIO RUSSO, get inside his big office, and admire him for a second, hoping that he’ll not open his gorgeous mouth and ruin my moment. Even if his name wouldn't be a giveaway, his looks tell you that the blood running through his veins is a hundred percent not American. He has a foreign halo around him. It's a mix of s*x on legs and danger. I wanted to ask him more about his origins, but as soon as I saw the coldness of Antarctica in his eyes and the 'I'll kill you if you disturb me for stupid things' in his voice, I gave up. Of course, he never asked about mine, although anyone can see that I'm a mix made of mixes. No, really. My mom is Caucasian and has Caucasian parents. Until now, everything normal, right? But on my Dad's side... well, that's another story. My grandad is African American, my grandma is Mexican, and my grand granddad was Asian. Yep, I have them all. So, I have a light caramel complexion, a pair of almond-shaped, too bright, if you ask me, blue eyes, which I inherited from my Mom, only the shape from my grandgranddad, of course, not identically because of most of the rest of my family, who has round eyes. Full lips, which I inherited from my Dad, a button nose, which I inherited from my Mexican grandma, and also from her, I got my hair. Loose curls and very smooth. So the only haircut that suits me is a man bun. I cut my sides short, but I have to leave the top to reach my shoulders. Oh, and thank God that I got my physique from my Dad because if I had inherited my Mom's or the Asian's genes, I would have been most probably dead from all the bullying. But, thankfully, I'm 6 ft 2, and I have a lean but muscular body that can take a lot of hits. Anyway, back to his sexy self. His posture is as always. Immaculate, masculine, hot, and dangerous. He has square, big shoulders that fill the black suit and the white shirt just perfectly, the white and grey tie that he wears today makes me think of Christian's tie from Fifty Shades Of Gray, and goddamn, my body reacts in ways that I would rather not at this time and in his office, at the dirty scenarios that my mind creates and they all involve that damn grey tie and my gorgeous, straight boss. His jet black hair is complimented by the low fade slicked-back haircut, and as usual, every string is elegantly and perfectly styled, making me wonder if he goes to the hair salon before he comes to work. The rest of his ungodly body is hidden behind his big, long, black-and-white glass office, but I can still see his black polished shoes between the two black chairs across from him. His office is nothing short of gorgeous and cold. Just like him. The walls are a mix of white and grey, decorated with a few black and white paintings, which honestly could have just as well been drawn by a blind man. I might be biased because I don't like abstract things. Anyway, there's a huge glass table with twelve chairs which completes the elegant but cold office. Now, even if the office is elegant and the view behind him is breathtaking, showing the Hudson River, tall buildings, trees, and green grass, it still doesn't compare to him. The man is simply a god. After the second passes, I make my way to his long, glass desk and place the coffee on his desk, turn around, and go. "How many times did I tell you to knock?" His deep, husky, but also smooth voice sends shivers through my body, but his words make me roll my eyes. Yeah, mixed feelings. He just had to ruin it. I turn around and plaster a fake smile on my face. "Well, if my memory serves me correctly…" I trail off, tap my index on my chin, and narrow my eyes as if I'm trying to remember. "162.392 times. Am I correct?" I ask with a cheeky, sarcastic grin, and he sucks in a sharp breath, then shakes his head in disapproval. Well, f**k, he's hot and annoying! "Are you looking to get fired?" He asks in an angry tone, but somehow, today I just can't find it in me to give a flying f**k. "You’d never fire me," I reply with a smirk, and he raises his eyebrows and looks at me surprised, but also curious. "Really? What makes you so sure?" He asks, keeping the burning eye contact, and I almost lose myself in his bright, Caribbean green eyes. I mean, who gives Carribean green eyes to a man like him? Who? I oftentimes wonder if there is a God, and if so, why in the name of God would he make such a specimen-- Recover, Aless! The man asked you a question, and if you keep ogling him, he'll figure out you're gay, and you don't want that, do you? Okay, if he finds out and fires me, I wouldn't care, but if he finds out and doesn't fire me, he might be more aware of the looks I'm sometimes giving him, and that would be awkward and I'll have to quit. "First of all, I’m the best at what I do, and second… nobody would last more than one month with you. Okay, make it a month and a half." I reply honestly and do my best not to burst into laughter at the look of disbelief that covered his handsome face. "Meaning?" THAT YOU’RE UNBEARABLE AND ANY NORMAL HUMAN BEING WOULD QUIT! But I can’t say that now, can I? So, let’s change the subject. "Jenny from Miracle of Life called. She’ll not make it today. I scheduled a meeting for next week, so you have the hour free." I change the subject, and he clenches his chiseled-to-perfection jaw, which is slightly covered by his less than three days stubble, giving him that little spark of a bad boy, just to drive us, humans insane, and raises his right eyebrow, and oh f**k, he looks so good, then looks at me expectantly with his gorgeous emerald eyes, his eyelas-- "I asked you a question, Alessandro. Answer." His voice pulls me out of my fantasy, but calling my name throws me into another one, so, sorry if I need a few seconds to remember what the f**k is the question. "Okay, fine," I say as I remember. "You asked. Let’s just say that you’re a… difficult man, and not a lot of people have the patience I have. I mean, let’s be honest, everyone in this building is surprised that I lasted this long. They even organized a party for me last year, when I made six months." I didn't even realize how good it would feel to say this out loud, to see the shock mixed with disbelief. God, it feels amazing. "What? You asked!" I exclaim as he keeps looking at me without saying a thing. "Are you serious?" He finally asks, and I nod. "You remember when you came and asked us what the fuss is about? The balloons and the cake? When everyone disappeared in a second after you came?" I try to jog his memory. "Yes. You said it was your birthday." "My birthday is next month. That was a 'congratulations that you’re still alive and hanging' party." I make air quotes and emphasize the words, and now is his turn to shock me by chuckling. Why shock? Well, I work here for 9 months, and in 9 months, I saw him smiling maybe four times and chuckling two or three, and f**k, that's a shame, 'cause he's f*****g gorgeous when he does it. But I never heard him laugh. "So, I’m the scary boss." He says as if he's actually the nicest boss ever. "For them. For me? Just… arrogant." Well, if I was honest until now, I can continue. A smile tugs on my lips as I see his eyes go wide, and a sexy look of utter disbelief taking over his face. "Arrogant?" He says the word as if he's still trying to comprehend that I used it to describe him. "Well… I can pick another description. I have quite a few," I say, and he gestures for me to sit down while flashing me his straight pearly teeth. f**k, he's truly gorgeous. I'm pulled out of my thoughts by him taking a sip from his coffee. So, I can be a bit considerate and not express all my feelings, but I decide to be brutally honest. Well, if he fires me, tomorrow I’ll have another job. So, I take the seat that he offered as he leans back in his chair, places his hands behind his head, and makes me hard as a rock. Really? Does he really have to look this good? This should be illegal. I mean, the poor shirt it’s about to be ripped by his big biceps, and his-- "Tell me all your descriptions." His deep, commanding voice reminds me that he’s in front of me and I should stop looking at him with unholy thoughts if I want to actually talk to him. "Are you sure?" I ask again, knowing that what's gonna come is not gonna be pretty, and he smiles again. "What?" He asks as he sees me examining his face. "Now I can officially say that you’re scaring me." "Why?" "Since I work here you smiled about four times. And now you smiled three times and chuckled one time in less than ten minutes." I say in an incredulous tone of voice, and he f*****g LAUGHS. Sweet Jesus! That was the most exotic laughter I have ever heard in my life. Powerful but smooth, husky, and deep... ohhh s**t. Can someone finish because of a burst of laughter? Well, if he goes on, I think I'll find out. "Who said that miracles don’t happen? I’ll make a note in my calendar. Jesus Christ." He laughs even harder, and I can't help but chuckle while I admire him. "You should laugh more often. Even if you’re strange, I can get used to it." I say after he finishes laughing, hoping that he'll follow my advice. "The description." He says as if he thinks that I want to get away. "Okay. As I said. Arrogant. Self-centered. Grumpy. Cold as ice. Heartless. Annoying. Very annoying. Over the charts annoying. And a huge pain in the ass." I finish and take a much-needed huge breath, then try to read him. His face tells me that... I don't have a f*****g clue. I realize that my eyes are starting to get very attached to his lips, and I avert my gaze fast. "Those are a lot of flaws. How did you end up thinking that about me?" He asks genuinely confused and curious, and I restrain myself not to roll my eyes. "Well, I work for you for 9 months. You never asked me one personal question. In these 9 months, I asked for one day off and you didn’t give it to me even though I had everything covered. Except for my name, I don’t think that you know any other names. And mine you know it because I repeated it a million times. If I don’t say good morning or goodbye, you never say it. I can go on, but we’ll need a little more than 60 minutes and I have to make some phone calls and arrange the business trip to California." I finish with a smile, and he looks at me with the same poker face that he had before. "Do I have any qualities?" He asks, and I nod. "One. You’re hot." HOLY MARY MOTHER OF GOD! WHAT THE f**k IS WRONG WITH ME??? The air was knocked out of my lungs by the stupid words that came out of my mouth; my breath stopped, and my heart ceased. I think I'm dying at the tender age of 25. After one and a half eternities of him examining my face with those damn emerald eyes and poker face, I decide to try and recover. "Or… at least that’s what the girls around here say. I mean, it’s not that 'I' think you’re hot…" I trail off, not knowing what to say next, and pray that I won't turn into ashes, 'cause God knows that my whole body is on fire. "So you think I’m ugly. Then there are no qualities." He says as he crosses his big arms over his big as f**k chest. "Not ugly. You’re… looking good. Like, for a man. I mean, if I were a woman…no, scratch that! You know what? I have a lot to work on." I say with my last breath and curse the fact that I took my mother's side and my skin is so damn light when the fucker chuckles, most probably thanks to my red cheeks, while I pray to God to open a hole and swallow me. "So, I’m unbearable but hot," He says with a smirk, which, if he hadn't displayed it in this situation, would've melted in this chair. "As I said. I have a lot to do." I excuse myself and stand, then try to plaster a smile on my face, turn, and go. But God not only doesn't listen to my prayer of opening a hole to swallow me, He also... "I’m the boss. Sit back down." Yep. Punishes me for every sin I ever made. So, it’s official. God hates me.