One Look At You (6 page)

Several hours pass and I haven’t heard from him at all. It’s 1 PM and my hunger is getting the better of me. I jump out of my seat when I hear my phone.

“Hello,” I say simply, as I know it’s him.

“Olivia, have you had any lunch?”

His question takes me aback. “Excuse me?”

“Is there a problem with your hearing or are you too hungry to understand the question?” I detect a note of humor, but I choose to think he’s being obnoxious. “I’ve had lunch, thank you.”

“Liar!”
Did he just say that?
“Order two full meals for us from the coffee shop, please. You will join me in my office for lunch while we talk about other matters.”

“Yes, sir, right away, sir.” I don’t know what inner demons are possessing me.

“Olivia?”

“Yes?” Here comes the barrage…. I cringe, hoping to stem off the verbal abuse.

“Don’t be cheeky.” And he puts down the phone, just like that. Did he actually just let me get away with my insolence?
No, Livie, don’t start thinking he may be nice after all.

I call the coffee shop and order the special of the day for both of us. It will take them half an hour to deliver, so I have until then to prepare to be castigated for my lack of decorum.

After the server delivers the trays to his office, I come in and see him standing by the window, looking at the view.

“I hope you don’t mind. I had him put our trays on the coffee table. It’ll be more comfortable for us to have lunch on the sofa.”
Maybe for you, but certainly not for me.

I position myself on the far end of the sofa. He seems amused, but says nothing. He sits down and starts to eat. He takes a bite of French bread and helps himself to the garden salad. I start to take mouthfuls of my own order. I’m too hungry to care what he thinks. He pauses to look at me, smiles and then asks, “What do your friends call you?”

“Livie, Liv. It just depends.”
But you’re not my friend, so Don’t call me that
.

“Do you really need your glasses?”

“Uhm, I won’t be able to do any work without them.”
And there’s a more important reason why I have to wear them.

“I would have thought that ninety percent of the world uses contact lenses now,” he observes drily.

“I’m more comfortable with glasses.”

“I see. And are you also more comfortable with the schoolmarm bun?”

I decide that offense is better than defense. “Don’t you think you’re being too personal?” He lifts an eyebrow at my question.

“I mean no offense. I just feel you’re trying too hard to look older.” I say nothing. I just want him to stop looking and prying. “Will you tell me a little more about yourself? I do want to learn about the people I work with.”

Do you really?

“There’s nothing much to tell.” Even to my own ears, I sound blunt and uncooperative, which is a mistake because he’s looking earnestly at me now.

“Have I done something to offend you? I know that I sometimes seem curt and preoccupied. But you have to forgive me. I am a demanding person at work, but I will probably be less so once I have all the information I need. Right now, it’s the numbers that concern me. I don’t have time for all the niceties.”

“I’m sorry. I just don’t normally talk about my personal life.” There, that’s the best I can do because I still believe it’s wrong for me to tell him anything. I don’t know what I told him that night. I don’t even know what I
did
with him. I can’t risk him putting two and two together.

He sighs. He gets up from the sofa and goes to his desk. I don’t know if I should follow him or remain seated so I choose to keep on eating. He sifts through the pile of papers and fishes out a document. Then he signals for me to come and get it, and I stand up and walk towards him. However, even as I reach for it, he doesn’t let go on his end. “This is a confidential list of the special reports I want you to prepare. Memorize it and then shred it. Under no circumstances are you to ask anyone for help.” I open my mouth to remonstrate with him, knowing how difficult that will be, but his tone brooks no argument. “No. Whatever you need, you will obtain through your own efforts. Do not involve any of the other assistants. Don’t even breathe a word to any of them.” His gray eyes are dark and serious. “Do you have any questions?”

I have a hundred of them, but I don’t say anything. I just shake my head, get the paper, and walk out of the room.

“Liv?” I turn around just as I’m about to close the door.

“Please don’t forget your tray. I know you’re not even half way done with your lunch. Don’t worry. I won’t inflict my unwanted presence on you anymore so you may eat in peace at your own desk.” I can’t tell if he’s offended by my attitude or just playing with me.

“Thank you,” is all I manage to say.
God, he probably has me pegged for a hard-assed bitch now. But I can’t let him get closer. I can’t. Not with my reputation and job on the line.

Since that awkward lunch on Tuesday, I’ve communicated with him mainly through email, which suits me fine. I feel guilty about how I’m behaving.
I must have one of the lowest guilt thresholds in the world.
He’s my superior, for crying out loud. But how the hell am I supposed to fix this?

Anyway, I’m not even halfway done with the confidential reports because I’m not allowed to ask other staff for information. I don’t know if he doesn’t trust their figures or if he’s discovered something. Tonight I was at work till ten. Even the cleaning crew went home ahead of me.

It’s dark and Jen has forgotten to leave the outdoor lamp on, as usual. I’m fumbling in my purse for the house keys when I hear the door open.

“Livie! I’m so glad to see you.” It’s Jen in her short pajamas, coming to hug me tightly.

“I live here, you know,” I say.

“We haven’t talked in days. You always come home so late. I miss you.” Jen’s right. I’ve been burning the midnight oil, so to speak.

“I know. Thank God it’s Friday, right?” I put my stuff on the table and plop down on the couch.

“I thought John isn’t a workhorse. What’s with all the overtime work?”

Ugh, I haven’t told her anything and I’m too tired to go into it now. But, we never keep secrets from one another, so I take a deep breath and carry on. “Jen, I’m temporarily working for the new Chief Financial Officer.” Her eyes widen and I have to put my hand out to stop her from getting excited. “No, don’t get too thrilled. You haven’t heard the rest.”

“I’m listening,” she says, obviously eager to hear what I have to say.

“Last week I found out that we were getting a new CFO. At the start of this week, I found out who it was.”

“Who is it? Some big shot from the world of finance?”

“Ah, no.” I pause. “I’ll just tell you. It’s the man from the party.”

“What man from the party?” She looks at me and then it dawns on her who I’m referring to. “My God,
your
man at the party?” she asks.

I mouth the word ‘yes’ and I see her expression of shock.

“Are you serious?”

“Jen, really, you think I would joke about a thing like this?”

My annoyance clearly shows so she moves closer to me and rubs my forearm. “Sorry, it’s just kind of unbelievable, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Believe me, I still don’t understand how I got into this predicament.”

“He knows who you are?”

“That’s the part I’m thankful for. He doesn’t recognize me. He was probably tipsy or drunk and just wanted a warm body that night. He’d arrived the night before from London, so he may have been suffering from jet lag then and wasn’t his usual self.”

“He’s a foreigner?”

“British, but his mother’s Brazilian.”

“And you got assigned to work for him?”

“Yeah. Apparently, he liked the reports I prepared for John and requested to borrow me for two weeks while he looks for his own assistant.”

“My gosh, this is just so surreal.”

“Yup. That is the word.”

“How do you work with him, though?” Her face is creased downward in a deep frown.

“Very, very carefully. After Tuesday’s lunch, we’ve not had any face-to-face meetings. Everything’s via email.”

“Tuesday’s lunch?”

“He wanted to have a working lunch with me so he could discuss some confidential matters. But then he started asking me about my glasses and hair, and I started getting nervous so I rudely cut him off.”

“So that’s why you’re wearing glasses and your hair is up.”

“Well, I can’t risk him recognizing me.”

“Why are you so scared? It’s not like he’s going to tell anyone you slept together. And you didn’t even know who he was.”

“He’s a man. He’s going to think I’m a complete slut who gets wasted and hits on men. I’ll have to quit my job, and I love my job – you know that. One moment of weakness, Jen. One moment, and everything I worked for is on the line.” Sometimes I think I’m close to a meltdown of some sort.

Jen puts her arm around me and just rocks me slowly. “Shhh, I think that you’re blowing it all out of proportion.”

No, not really,
I can’t argue anymore. She doesn’t get it because it didn’t happen to her. It happened to me.
She doesn’t even know that he’s married.
Ahh…I just want to sleep and forget. I want to go home to Mom this weekend and pretend that everything’s all right.

“I’m tired. I need to go sleep.” She escorts me to my room and rests her hand on my back as if to support me.

“I know you’re not going to listen, but please, please, please don’t get into a frenzy over this, Livie. You’re a good person. No one thinks badly of you. And no one will.” I nod and give her a peck on the cheek.

“G’night, Jen.”

“Sweet dreams, Liv.” She turns to leave and I’m left in the dark with my crazy thoughts. I pick up a pillow and put it on top of my head to ward them off, but it doesn’t help one bit.

“I know, Mom. It was so much fun for me, too.” I’m at my desk at seven in the morning. Since no one’s around, I decide to call Mom and let her know how much I enjoyed my time with her yesterday. It was a quiet Sunday, just spent eating and talking non-stop.

Mom loves to read, so we ended up talking about the books she’s borrowed from the library recently. We even watched a movie on DVD – a haunting love story set in the 1800s. The pot roast was perfect. I ate almost a third of the flan. I must have gained a pound or two, but I don’t care. It was amazing – no worries, just laughter and fond reminiscences. It felt safe to be with her.

“Next time, let’s go shopping. I need to get a few tops for summer.” Mom is frugal with herself, so when she mentions buying some clothes, I get pretty excited.

“I’d love that! We should go down to Orange County.”

“Maybe,” she sort of agrees.

Just then, I see him walking towards his office. He looks disturbingly attractive and I get an unexpected flutter in my stomach. Mom is saying something else, but I’m staring at him looking so tall, lean, and impeccably dressed in a custom-made suit.
What’s gotten over me?
I turn my chair around to say goodbye to my mother.

“So sorry, Mom, I have to go. My boss is here.”

“Okay, Honey. I miss you already,” she says somewhat pensively.

“Me, too. I love you,” I whisper, and then hang up and turn around, only to find him right in front of my desk.

“Good morning, Olivia. I trust your love life won’t get in the way of today’s work,” he says in a testy tone.
How dare he!

“Good morning.” That’s all he’s getting from me. Never mind that I just found him hot a minute ago. Right now, I feel like slapping his face.

“Are any of the reports ready yet?”

“I’m done with at least a third of them, but I haven’t sent them since I thought you may want to look at them all at once.”

“That depends on what’s done. Email me them to me. Next time, have some initiative and ask,” he says in a ‘can you be any more stupid?’ tone.

I don’t bother to respond since he’s on his way to his office, but I am sorely tempted to buy one of those boss voodoo dolls online.
Have some initiative?
He doesn’t even know what I’ve had to go through to get his reports done without anyone else’s input. Then I remember that soon this week will be over and I’m going back to my old office. So, he can say whatever he wants. I’ll have nothing to do with him anymore.

I pound on my keyboard and start uploading the reports I’m done with.

Per your request, attached please find the completed reports for your review. Please advise if you want me to make any changes to the format or include/delete any data.

I press
SEND
. There! That should keep him occupied and out of my hair for the rest of the day. I focus my attention on the reports that remain undone. If I am to leave by the end of this week, I have to work till really late at night. I’ll be happy to do so, though, if that’s gonna get me back to my old desk.

All throughout the day, however, I’m unable to work on anything. The phone keeps interrupting me. He keeps calling me into his room. To find a missing file. To compose a letter to a number of suppliers. To issue a memo to the Admin Staff. And so on and so forth. The week is turning into the complete opposite of last week, when I hardly did anything but work on the reports he asked for.

Late in the afternoon, he calls me in for the umpteenth time.
Oh God! What could he possibly want now?

I stand by the door, waiting for him to finish a call. He beckons me in with his right hand while he wraps up his conversation. “Olivia, I completely forgot about the cocktails with the Board tonight. Would you be so kind as to get me a fresh shirt and one of my suits from my hotel?”

His hotel suite? I feel the color drain from my face. My knees buckle and my heart thumps harder than normal. I don’t know what he observes, but he immediately rises to his feet and comes to my side.

“Are you alright? You’re as white as a sheet,” he says with concern.

“Yeah, I guess I forgot to have lunch, so I’m a little woozy.” Of course, it’s not about lunch at all.

“Never mind then. I guess I’ll just leave early and ask the driver to swing by the hotel.” He looks at me again and says, “I know I’ve been working you too hard. But that’s no reason for you to skip your meals. Perhaps we should adjust our schedule. The world won’t fall apart if I get the reports next week instead,” he says with a smile. He looks so handsome that my heart skips a beat again – this time not over fear, but something entirely unwelcome.