Fool Like You

Fool Like You

by

Bella Shade

Copyright 2012. All rights reserved.

1

Alice Lively

Damn.
I hate
seeing this arrogant beautiful bastard first thing in the morning. But how am I
supposed to avoid him. By being late to work? No way.

I
quicken my pace through the enormous glass door of the building of Dyer and Co,
looking at my watch.
Right on time.
Passing through the crowd, I see the
dark haired bastard arriving at the elevator, wearing his clean cut suit that
probably costs double my monthly paycheck. Every woman in the building tries to
get his attention somehow, seizing him up, fiddling with their hair. You name
it. Rarely does a day pass without my co-employees gushing about how they
fantasize about him.

All but
me. I can
’
t stand him. I watch him walk indifferently with
his chin up as if the world revolved around him. Such an arrogant bastard who
happens to be my boss, and actually owns this entire building.

If we
have one single thing in common it would be our commitment to What we do. I
always arriving on time. Never late. I worked my ass off to get where I am.

I
pretend my high heels slow me down so I could take the next elevator. I didn
’
t sleep
well yesterday. I spend all night calculating how I am supposed to fulfill this
month's financial obligations, so I could spare having my boss giving me a hard
time this morning. If it were for me, I can take care of myself. It's just that
I pay my mother and sister's bills, too.

Slowly,
the bastard turns his head and looks at me with those green eyes, seizing me from
top to bottom. Like usual, I can't read his mind. Everyone knows you can't read
Sebastian Dyer's min if he doesn't want you to. It's he his most beloved
technique when doing business.

Is that
a smirk on his face?

I act
like I don
’
t see him as a small crowd hurries into the
elevator after him.

Thank
God. Now I could take the other one.

“
Alice,
”
I hear
his sharp voice call me from inside the elevator.
“
We don
’
t have
all day.
”

B.A.S.T.A.R.D.

Why
doesn
’
t he
call me Ms. Lively? No one is this building calls their secretaries by their
first name but him.

I purse
my lips and walk to the elevator, almost hypnotized by his demanding voice. I
hate it when I feel like that.

Entering
the elevator I plaster an insincere smile on my lips. Every time I look at him
closely, I try not to admire his gorgeous looks.

Every
time!

I turn
around and face the door. I press my floor button a little harder than usual
instead of puffing in anger or kicking him in the balls with the tip of my
heels. It
’
s amazing what a girl in heels can do to her
enemies even if they are standing behind her.

Wy do I
feel so aggressive. I guess I am only nervous with hims standing behind me.

The
crowd in the elevator stand firm like a horde of cattle, afraid to offend him
in any way. A couple of them cling to their suitcases, pretending to be
checking the floor. It
’
s not like the famous Sebastian
Dyer gets angry at his employees or something; he just has that
look
that strips people naked in front of him.

I roll
my eyes, wondering if he is unapologetically checking my ass. He is known for
not taking no for an answers and being unapologetically blunt wit women.
Sometimes, I wonder how many women he has slept with.

A
couple of businessmen try to hop into the elevator, one of them stop the door
before it closes. They must be visitors or they wouldn
’
t dare.

“
Take
the next one!
”
Sebastian says in one piercing note.

The
look on the mam's face is full of puzzlement at first. Sebastian's demanding
voice is unescapable. It's not that you just have to obey him, but you have too
him fast.

The man
shakes his head out of Sebastian's hypnotic order and knots his face, "Who
do you think you are?" The man takes the challenge. "You think you
own the building?"

Silence
suffocates us all in the elevator for a moment. Most of the employees lower
their heads. Most of us try not laugh.

"It's
a skyscraper, not a building," Sebastian corrects him. "An yes, I own
the building."

The man
shrugs and let go of the door at the same time. As the door closes, I see him
loosen his tie and sweat.

Here we
go again, silent sheep with our wolf boss.

I
really wish to get to my office as fast as I can. I don't have time to watch
the women in the office drool when see him,like everyday. They are going to be
whispering about him and do the best they can so he'd notice them. giggling
about him. I know the bastard is drop dead gorgeous
–
and I
did secretly fantasize about him sometimes. But he is a selfish, arrogant, and
a pompous jerk who does nothing but dominate every one around him.

The
elevator stops, and a string of people walk out. I can
’
t
believe my ears when I hear a woman whisper to her friend about wanting to lick
Dyer
’
s
smooth skin on their way out. It
’
s
always like this; women whispering dirty thoughts two steps away from him,
wishing he would hear them. But even if he does, you can
’
t read
much into Mr Dyer because he rarely talks. The best he can do is bestow a
humiliating glance down upon you for not doing your job right, and you
’
d feel
like you want to disappear. I know I said this before. I guess it's all about
me being nervous again.

Silent.
Gorgeous. Asshole.

If I
haven't worked hard all of my life to earn my place in society, I
’
d turn
around and slap him on the face. Well, maybe kiss those lips and then slap him.
Paycheck is certainly a bitch.

Sometimes
in the office, Mr. Dyer asks me to do pick up a folder he has just dropped
intentionally on the floor, only to check me out. Sometimes he asks me to poor
him coffee while he is leaning back in his comfortable chair. Bending over, I
know is staring at my cleavage. Then when I am done, he asks me to pour in more
coffee for his own amusement. Although I don
’
t like
it, I learned to look away since I can
’
t lose
it and show my anger and lose what I worked so hard for.

Ten
more floors and I will get this billionaire bastard off my back, I tell myself.

And I
’
ll get
him out of my head.

But I
still feel his eyes on my back. His silence is killing me, and I am so mad at
myself for secretly liking it. Actually, if he manages to stay silent forever, I
would surrender to the daydreams I have about him. We could fuck in the meeting
room, on his desk, in the ladies room, in the gym on lunch break, and in the
…
ahem
…
the
elevator. I
’
d be in my satin sheets, and I
’
d let
him inside while calling him a pig, and the bastard wouldn
’
t be
able to say a word because I
’
ll make him lose his cool. I
’
ll make
him surrender to my charm, and maybe teach him that not all woman would lay
down and kiss his feet like they always do.

A girl
can still have dirty, irrational fantasies, right? Even if she had a  rough
life and worked hard to fit in.

Another
string of crowd walks out. It
’
s only me and him now. As the
elevator chugs up, my nipples harden. It puzzles me that we have never been
alone in the elevator before. Where is Tina, the girl who works on the same
floor with us? And where Marco, the male secretary?

I
swallow hard, touching my necklace. I wish I had eyes in my back. Why doesn
’
t he
speak to me? All men, strangers, wouldn
’
t miss
an opportunity to start a meaningless conversation with me once we get alone.

Say
something. God. Damn. It.

Should
I turn around and face him? Why isn
’
t he
talking today, saying stupid things  like
‘
You did
that wrong, Alice!
’
or
‘
I told
this a thousand times!
’
?

What
’
s going
to happen? I have a strange feeling about today. I know that I am vulnerable to
his touch somehow. My traitor nipples hardens once we get alone for God
’
s sake.

“
I want
the files on the Rockford case ready in an hour,
”
He
finally says.

Thank
God.
I let out a sigh and don
’
t mind him noticing.

“
But it
’
s
impossible to get that done in an hour,
”
I
comment, turning around and facing him. He hasn
’
t moved
an inch.
“
It
’
s at
least
—“

“
This
isn
’
t a
request, Alice.
”
His voice is colorless.

I turn
around, trying not to admire his face or suit. I have contradicting feelings
wanting to axe him and desiring to push him against the wall and kiss that
sultry mouth of his in the same time.

Pig.
Bastard. Billionaire.

I grit
on my teeth, waiting to get out. He never even complimented me on my professional
work outfits. He never thanked me for doing something right.

“
Aren
’
t you
going to tell me,
‘
As you wish, Mr Dyer?
’”
He
says.

I swear
I could see him smirk with the imaginary eyes in the back of my head. I always
forget this jerk loves this phrase. He wasn
’
t shy
about reminding me, or any of the staff, to say it.

It
would have been a lot easier if he wasn
’
t
beautiful. I could have turned around and slapped him on the face, kicked him
in the crotch, and lost my job happily ever after.

“
As you
wish Mr Dyer.
”
I give in, fidgeting like a little shy girl as
I turn around again. Better let him stare at my ass than me being haplessly
enchanted by his looks. One floor left and I am out of here. I leave on the
tenth floor and he usually dials a secret code on the panel and gets to his
private last floor above the office. God knows what that last floor overlooking
New York city
’
s skyline looks like. I heard it
’
s a
heaven of its own up there and he likes to spend the first hour of day in it.
Sometimes, he spends the night in his high castle.

Come
on, elevator. Let me get out.

“
One
more time,
”
He says.
“
Say it
one more time.
”

“
As you
wish, Mr Dyer
,
”
I say
to the fucker, wondering what
’
s on his sick mind today. I can
’
t deny
his voice is rough, yet sweet. The kind of voice I would want to wake up to in
the morning. Everything about him is so good, all except his jackass
personality.

Suddenly,
I hear a faint rustle behind me, and a hand is pressed gently on my lower back
before sliding down and resting on my ass. My eyes widen and my heart is caught
in my throat. I freeze in my place, wondering about what
’
s
happening. I
’
ve worked here for over six months and he never
touched me.