Beatrice?”
“Of course. She’s expecting you at eight tonight.”
“Paul?”
“He’ll be at your apartment tomorrow at four.”
“Christine?”
“Her team will go with Paul.”
“The car?”
“Will be waiting for you and Mr. Thompson at seven.”
“Good.” Ms. Mason nods, her anger slowly melting away. “My speech?”
“I left it on your desk alongside with the list of guests you should know about.”
“Anyone in particular?”
“I highlighted the most important people’s names.”
Ms. Mason hums in assent. “Thank you, Ana.”
“Would you like some lunch?”
“No. Carlos’ assistant ordered lunch for us.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t want to see anyone for the rest of the day,” Ms. Mason says before she goes to unlock her office and leave Ariana to her work.
Ariana doesn’t answer just turns back to her computer and pretends to be engrossed in the contract she should be typing up. It’s the first time her boss called her Ana instead of her full name or Miss Campbell, but she doesn’t want to read anything into it. Ms. Mason was probably just distracted and by tomorrow she’ll be back to the usual formality and cool indifference. Still, Ariana can’t stop smiling and feeling like they took another small step towards building a nice, friendly working relationship even if not an actual friendship.
At four, she runs out for coffee, knowing that Ms. Mason is too busy to keep track of time or her personal needs. She asks for two slices of sugar-free carrot cake to go with the grande Americano Ms. Mason prefers in the afternoon, and hopes her boss will appreciate the small gesture, at least a little bit.
Ms. Mason’s reaction is a surprised smile she can’t hide before Ariana notices it, and the sight of it alone makes Ariana light headed, because Ms. Mason is even more beautiful when she smiles than usually. And, sure, Ariana has seen her smile, hell even grin, in her dreams, but they can’t measure up to the real thing. Because the late afternoon sunlight just falls perfectly to turn Ms. Mason’s dark caramel colored eyes into pure gold and her full lips even shinier, and Ariana know she’s blatantly staring, but she can’t take her eyes off Ms. Mason’s breathtakingly gorgeous face.
“You wanted something?” Ms. Mason asks, raising an eyebrow and pulling Ariana back to the present.
“Ah, no, sorry.”
“Alright. Then you can go home.”
“Are you sure?” she asked uncertainly. It wasn’t unheard of that Ms. Mason sent her home early when she planned to stay late, it couldn’t be the case today because Thompson said he would pick her up.
“Yes. I set an alarm to remind me when I have to leave for Beatrice’s salon.”
“But what about Mr. Thompson?”
Ms. Mason’s face closes off and she glares at Ariana. “You ask too many questions.”
“Yeah, side-effect of my job,” she snipes back before she can control her sassiness. “Sorry,” she mumbles when she sees Ms. Mason’s unimpressed face.
“Just go.”
And Ariana goes. She keeps berating herself for her stupid big mouth all the way to home, silently praying to whoever is up there to let her not lose her job for back-talking to her boss. She had seen Ms. Mason fire someone for much less, and she actually loves her job even though it wasn’t what she imagined herself to do when she got her shiny new degree in Political Science two years ago. Actually, applying to Wouldridge & Mason was a last resort when she realized she had no chance of actually getting a job in her field unless she found some actually existing political connections or sucked the right people’s dicks like a champ.
She doesn’t know what Ms. Mason could have seen in her that made her hire her instead of one of the eager little computer geniuses who were all starry-eyed and drooling while they were waiting to be interviewed. She still can’t help but laugh every time when she remembers walking into Ms. Mason’s office and
“Of course. She’s expecting you at eight tonight.”
“Paul?”
“He’ll be at your apartment tomorrow at four.”
“Christine?”
“Her team will go with Paul.”
“The car?”
“Will be waiting for you and Mr. Thompson at seven.”
“Good.” Ms. Mason nods, her anger slowly melting away. “My speech?”
“I left it on your desk alongside with the list of guests you should know about.”
“Anyone in particular?”
“I highlighted the most important people’s names.”
Ms. Mason hums in assent. “Thank you, Ana.”
“Would you like some lunch?”
“No. Carlos’ assistant ordered lunch for us.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t want to see anyone for the rest of the day,” Ms. Mason says before she goes to unlock her office and leave Ariana to her work.
Ariana doesn’t answer just turns back to her computer and pretends to be engrossed in the contract she should be typing up. It’s the first time her boss called her Ana instead of her full name or Miss Campbell, but she doesn’t want to read anything into it. Ms. Mason was probably just distracted and by tomorrow she’ll be back to the usual formality and cool indifference. Still, Ariana can’t stop smiling and feeling like they took another small step towards building a nice, friendly working relationship even if not an actual friendship.
At four, she runs out for coffee, knowing that Ms. Mason is too busy to keep track of time or her personal needs. She asks for two slices of sugar-free carrot cake to go with the grande Americano Ms. Mason prefers in the afternoon, and hopes her boss will appreciate the small gesture, at least a little bit.
Ms. Mason’s reaction is a surprised smile she can’t hide before Ariana notices it, and the sight of it alone makes Ariana light headed, because Ms. Mason is even more beautiful when she smiles than usually. And, sure, Ariana has seen her smile, hell even grin, in her dreams, but they can’t measure up to the real thing. Because the late afternoon sunlight just falls perfectly to turn Ms. Mason’s dark caramel colored eyes into pure gold and her full lips even shinier, and Ariana know she’s blatantly staring, but she can’t take her eyes off Ms. Mason’s breathtakingly gorgeous face.
“You wanted something?” Ms. Mason asks, raising an eyebrow and pulling Ariana back to the present.
“Ah, no, sorry.”
“Alright. Then you can go home.”
“Are you sure?” she asked uncertainly. It wasn’t unheard of that Ms. Mason sent her home early when she planned to stay late, it couldn’t be the case today because Thompson said he would pick her up.
“Yes. I set an alarm to remind me when I have to leave for Beatrice’s salon.”
“But what about Mr. Thompson?”
Ms. Mason’s face closes off and she glares at Ariana. “You ask too many questions.”
“Yeah, side-effect of my job,” she snipes back before she can control her sassiness. “Sorry,” she mumbles when she sees Ms. Mason’s unimpressed face.
“Just go.”
And Ariana goes. She keeps berating herself for her stupid big mouth all the way to home, silently praying to whoever is up there to let her not lose her job for back-talking to her boss. She had seen Ms. Mason fire someone for much less, and she actually loves her job even though it wasn’t what she imagined herself to do when she got her shiny new degree in Political Science two years ago. Actually, applying to Wouldridge & Mason was a last resort when she realized she had no chance of actually getting a job in her field unless she found some actually existing political connections or sucked the right people’s dicks like a champ.
She doesn’t know what Ms. Mason could have seen in her that made her hire her instead of one of the eager little computer geniuses who were all starry-eyed and drooling while they were waiting to be interviewed. She still can’t help but laugh every time when she remembers walking into Ms. Mason’s office and
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