KENYA
I purse my lips and stare at my fuming boss. Holland Alistair is standing completely still, yet I can feel the fury rising from his skin like heatwaves.
It makes my stomach twist into knots.
It makes me want to defend myself.
“What happened in this room is unacceptable.” His fingers grip the back of the chair like he’s contemplating whether he should pick it up and throw it at the window. “You’re an assistant to the damn assistant!”
I flinch. Nice reminder.
“You forget what you’re here for.” His voice is so low it rattles the glass cups on the table. “You’re not a part of the PR team. You’re not in charge of this pitch. And you have no authority to speak out without my permission.”
I lick my lips in agitation. “Do I need your permission to breathe too?”
“Miss Jones!” He scowls at me.
I keep going because, apparently, I don’t treasure my own life. “I may have spoken out of turn, but I was trying to save the pitch. You saw Sutherburg yawning.”
The Baby Box rep looked like he would fall out of his seat if Alistair kept going. It was my first corporate collab and it was painful to watch.
“The PR team had a plan—”
“The PR Team was pandering to your obsession with data and your total disinterest in the human element. You knew that. I warned you there wasn’t enough of a relatable draw in the pitch and you shot me down saying the numbers would speak for themselves.”
“I’m impressed, Miss Jones.” He applauds. I can hear the sarcasm in each beat of his hands. “After the crap you pulled, you have the guts to call me out? Fan-freaking-tastic!”
His nostrils flare and if he had two horns on his head (at least two visible horns), I would have been impaled by them.
“Whether you acknowledge it or not, I was trying to help!”
“You didn’t, Miss Jones. Not even a little.”
“I—”
His voice gets rougher. “Do you have any idea how inappropriate it was for you to speak today? I do not pay you to shout your opinions to my clients. I do not pay you to critique my business choices. I pay you to organize files, write notes and fetch my damn coffee!”
I shoot to my feet because his tone is absolutely unacceptable. Even if he has a problem with what I did today, I’m still a person. At the very minimum, I deserve respect.
I slam a hand against my hip. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t play offended, Miss Jones. You were brave enough to mouth off in the middle of a meeting and you were brave enough to scold me for ignoring your notes, so you should be brave enough to stand here and take this.”
“I threw myself on a grenade that you set off.” I’m so pissed off that, unlike my boss, I don’t keep my tone quiet. “Sutherburg would have walked out long ago and it would have ruined any future collab with Belle’s Beauty.”
He cocks his head to the side. “You still don’t get what you did wrong, do you?”
“I did what I did to help the company and save the pitch. You refuse to see it. Fine. I don’t need you to say thanks.”
“Thanks?” He blinks as if he’s astounded by the word. Or maybe it’s the concept. “Miss Jones, you are not a damn hero.” He juts a finger at me. “You didn’t ‘take a hit for the team’. By jumping rank, you spit in the face of the company rules and completely ignored the chain of command. That’s not something you can brush off by claiming you did it for the right reasons.”
“It was an emergency and I was the only one who responded. You have to—”
“I don’t have to do anything,” he snarls. “If you hadn’t tossed the train off the rails, we could have gotten Sutherburg to hear another pitch, but you had to jump on an impulse and blow everything up.”
“Even if we’d gotten a chance to pitch a brand-new idea, it still would have been rejected by him because your angle is all wrong. You heard Sutherburg. The data isn’t what he’s looking for.”
Alistair’s eyes narrow to slits.
My fingers press deeply into the table as I lean over it just like he is. The strain of pushing my weight on my hands makes them cramp, but I don’t even care.
My teeth grind together. “I stand by my decision to intervene.”
He glares at me.
I glare right back.
“If Sutherburg had agreed to your pitch, we might be having a different conversation right now. But he didn’t. And that, Miss Jones, is on you.” He lets out a deep breath. “Now that we’ve discussed the first problem… let’s discuss the second.”
“If this is about Sutherburg mentioning your daughter—”
“Don’t try to shift the blame to Sutherburg. This is about you stepping out of line.” A vein in his neck bulges. His voice is pure venom. “How dare you throw my family into the ring like our private business is a publicity stunt?”
I swallow hard and slam my lips shut. Suggesting we play up his wife’s story didn’t feel like an invasion of privacy in the heat of the moment. The information about the founder of Belle’s Beauty is online for the entire world to see.
Alistair’s wife did start Belle’s Beauty. This company is about her dream to change the lives of women all around the world. I didn’t think it would be a problem to dangle that tidbit in front of Sutherburg’s nose just to hook him.
But I had no idea Alistair and his wife had a child. No articles exist online about her. At least, none that Sunny found on our initial search into Alistair’s background.
My boss seethes in front of me. His eyes burn with flecks of lava and flickers of hellfire. This angry beast is about to level up to a new kind of monster. I can already feel the heat thickening in the room.
“It wasn’t intentional.” I try to explain myself. “And Sutherburg was the one who mentioned your daughter. I had no intentions—”
“I don’t give a damn what your intentions were!” he yells. “You had no right to go there without my permission.”
I clasp my hands together. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” He croaks out a laugh. “You’re sorry? I don’t think you understand the scope of what you did, Miss Jones. I don’t care if it costs this company millions of dollars, you do not negotiate with my family.”
I flinch. Facing Alistair is like standing in the middle of a fire pit with flaming arrows shooting in all directions. I want to defend myself. I want to tell him that I didn’t mean to harm him or his family. That I’m not that kind of person.
But he won’t listen.
“That outburst might cost us a multimillion-dollar contract. Be prepared to take responsibility.” Eyes narrowing, he steps closer to me. “I won’t go easy on you because you’re new to this, Miss Jones. Even if you’ve never stepped foot in a boardroom before, there are some lines you don’t cross. And today, you went too far.”
My chest is swelling to the point of bursting. I can take everything he dishes out, but I really can’t stand looking like a jerk.
“I truly didn’t know about your daughter,” I blurt.
His face goes cold.
I look into his hazel eyes, waiting for a hint of humanity. There is none. He’s an icy, iron monster out to devour me.
The worst part is, I can’t fault him for being protective of his family. If anyone came at my people, I wouldn’t stop at a scolding. Fists would fly.
“Mess up again and I won’t be this kind,” Alistair hisses.
Kind? This is his version of kind? Does this man own a dictionary?
Alistair turns away from me and grips a chair as if he needs help to remain standing. Fingers tapping against the cushion, he bites out, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll oversee the Yazmite project, take notes and get coffee as quietly as possible. Breathe too hard and I might start regretting my decision.”
My heart burns so badly I’m surprised there’s no singe marks on my blouse. I messed up. I’m willing to accept that, but his words are like claws scraping against my skin. It feels unfair.
I take pride in everything I do.
It sucks that I tried and failed.
It sucks even more to be called out so harshly for it.
I feel something wet and salty against my lips. Stunned, I flick my tongue out and realize that I’m crying.
Horror sweeps through me.
Turning quickly before Alistair can see that his words drew blood, I murmur, “Understood.”
I don’t wait for him to dismiss me. That’ll be salt in an already gaping wound. Stomping out of the conference room, I throw the door open and let it slam behind me.
The PR team scatters when I walk past them. It’s not hard to tell that they were all eavesdropping. Why am I not surprised?
Without a backward glance, I stomp to the bathroom and wilt against the door. My heart is trying to climb up my throat. Anger wraps around my skin, pressing down on me like a fur coat in the heat of summer.
I lurch toward the sink and pour water on my face. My makeup washes off. Mascara tracks run down my dark cheeks.
It’s okay. I’m okay.
Patting my face dry calms me a bit. When I straighten, I feel a lot more composed.
Deep breaths.
In. Out.
The world hasn’t ended.
Sure, I got chewed out by my boss and lost an important account, but at least I didn’t get fired. This way, I can write my own resignation letter and fling it in Holland Alistair’s face.
I wait in the bathroom for a couple minutes. The PR team should have left by now, right? The last thing I need is to have a conversation with them. Whether it’s pity or disdain, I don’t have the energy to go another round.
After fifteen minutes, I peer outside the bathroom.
The coast is clear.
Hurrying to the elevator, I hold my breath until the doors open. No one I recognize is around. Score.
When I get to the lobby, I’m surprised to see Bernard standing near the front door. He’s hard to miss since he’s dressed in a stuffy suit and wearing white gloves.
At the sight of him, every nerve in my body pulls taut. If Bernard is here, that means Alistair is still in the building. What if he’s close by?
I glance around desperately, looking for any plants I can hide behind. Too late. Bernard’s sharp eyes fall on me and then narrow in recognition. He stalks over, his wide trouser legs flapping with every step.
“Miss Jones,” he touches my hand softly. “I was hoping you hadn’t left yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll take you back to the office.”
“Is Alistair looking for me?”
“No.” He gestures to the door.
“Uh… I’ll catch the subway.”
He shakes his head. “I have my instructions.”
“From Alistair?”
He nods.
I gulp. What if this is a trap? What if Alistair arranged for Bernard to drop me off in the middle of the desert so I can die of starvation?
Don’t be so dramatic, Kenya.
I blink rapidly. “Is Alistair waiting in the car?”
“No, he’s not.” Bernard motions for me to follow him.
Still not trusting any part of this, I walk cautiously behind the driver. The lobby is crowded. Everyone seems to be in their own world.
I keep a look out for a tall, gorgeous billionaire with eyes like fire, but Alistair doesn’t pop out of the throng. He’s not there when I walk through the doors. Not there when I get outside. And he’s not in the car either.
Finally alone, I relax into the leather seats and close my eyes. The chair is soft. Buttery. I wish I could disappear into the backseat.
It’s been a really long time since I’ve felt this drained.
Bernard clears his throat. “Is something wrong, Miss Jones?”
“Not really,” I murmur.
He goes quiet.
“In fact, yeah. Something’s wrong.” I point to the roof of the car. “This. What’s up with this?”
“What are you referring to?”
“Some things went down in the Baby Box meeting today.”
“What kind of things?”
“Let’s just say Alistair and I didn’t end the meeting on a good note. He was pissed.”
“Hm.” Bernard’s expression gives nothing away.
“Why did he arrange my ride back to the office?”
“Didn’t you arrive with him?” Bernard arches an eyebrow. I can see it in the rearview mirror.
“Yeah but—”
“Mr. Alistair might be a hard man to please, but he’s not unreasonable. He takes responsibility for those under him.”
“I’m his responsibility?”
“You’re his assistant, aren’t you?”
“Second assistant,” I say, as if the distance from his line of command is something to be proud of.
“He takes care of his people as much as he demands from them.” Bernard smiles warmly at me.
I roll my eyes. “Another Alistair cheerleader?”
“I don’t get what you mean.”
“Nothing,” I murmur, folding my arms over my chest.
“Have I answered your question?”
“Not to a satisfying degree.” I sigh heavily. “But I have a feeling you’re not going to badmouth Alistair any time soon, so I won’t push for more.”
“I have no reason to talk ill of him. He’s been good to me.”
Good? Is there a good bone in that man’s body?
“He helped me when my wife had cancer.”
I drop the attitude. As someone who’s been through that experience with someone I love, I feel an instant connection. “Bernard, I had no idea. Is your wife okay?”
“She’s great now. She beat it. But beating cancer was easier than paying off our debt. That’s when Alistair swooped in. He paid all our medical fees and allowed me to take time off work to care for her.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t his twin brother?”
Bernard laughs.
I don’t. I’m completely serious.
“He may appear gruff, but it’s only because he’s focused. Whatever he starts, he sees through to the end.”
“Look, Bernard, I’m really, really happy that your wife’s okay.”
He nods.
“But you have to understand that the Holland Alistair you’re talking about is not the Alistair I’ve met.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Maybe you have met that side of him, and you just can’t see it.”
I’m not in the mood to sing Holland Alistair’s praises, so I return Bernard’s smile with a small one of my own and twist slightly away.
The city is a blur of colors. Blue sky. White clouds. Grey buildings. The world seems so big and yet I feel like I could fill it with my hurt and frustration.
The last thing I want to do is go to the office and see Alistair’s ridiculously good-looking face. But unless I jump out of this moving vehicle, I don’t have a choice.
I’m returning to the lion’s den.
When I get to the office, everyone goes quiet. Their gazes follow me to my cubicle. Whispers burst out like waves behind my back.
In the distance, Alistair stomps down the hallway, Ezekiel hot on his heels. The executive assistant looks frantic. I know that poor man is receiving the backlash from the Baby Box disaster.
My eyes shift to the boss.
Alistair’s still angry.
I can tell.
I glare a hole into his beautiful neck. If I aimed my pen just so… would it hit the target?
This man is turning me into a murderer.
I cover my face with my hands, fighting to keep it together. When can I go home? I don’t think I can take much more of this awful day.
Just breathe, Kenya.
I straighten and start up my computer. The background on my screen is Collin Firth because I’m obsessed with Pride and Prejudice. There are yellow, pink and blue sticky notes along the bottom of the monitor. Reminders to ‘go for it’ and ‘keep trying’.
“Hey!” Someone kicks the back of my chair.
I lurch forward, my stomach slamming into the desk painfully. “Ow.”
The chatter in the room stops.
I whirl around and see a woman in a long blue sweater dress standing behind me. Her eyes are sharp, and her mouth is twisted into a frown.
“Did you really drag Alistair’s kid into the Baby Box proposal?”
I turn away from her.
She walks around my chair to face me. “Hey.”
“I’m not in the mood, okay?”
“The news is all over the office,” she snaps. “You ruined the Baby Box deal.”
“Look, if you want to take a dump on me, take a number and get in line. It’s not your turn today.”
She doesn’t move a muscle. “What’s your name again?”
“None of your business.”
She snarls and glances around. I have my name scrawled all over my notebooks in colorful, flowery handwriting. Her eyes land there. “Kenya.”
“Since we’re making introductions, why don’t you tell me who you are?”
“It’s Heather.”
Of course it is. I smile tightly. “Heather, you weren’t at the meeting, so I’d appreciate if you didn’t run around listening to gossip. What I did at Baby Box has nothing to do with you.”
“It kind of does,” she says in that passive-aggressive, don’t let me call the manager way. “I heard what you did.” She leans down. “And it doesn’t sit well with me.”
“Is that so?” I doubt she can hear the sarcasm. She’s too busy enjoying the sound of her own voice.
“Mr. Alistair doesn’t talk about his daughter. Ever. Not to us and definitely not to clients. You need to know your place, errand girl.”
Errand girl? I smile. “Thanks, Botox girl. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Gasps ripple around the room.
Her long, fake eyelashes flutter. “What did you just say to me?”
I glare in her direction. Did she expect me to run crying because she’s being nasty? What does she think this is? High school? An hour ago, Holland Alistair chewed me up and spit me out of his mouth. Anything Heather can say is child’s play compared to that.
Heather chokes. “You’re despicable.”
Fine. We won’t be friends. If she isn’t going to like me, she might as well fear me.
My smile goes flat. “Step back now while I’m asking nicely.”
Heather looks annoyed. She leans in so close I can smell what she had for lunch. Tuna. Definitely. “I’ll tell you right now; the way we do things around here is different. You don’t open your mouth in a team meeting unless someone asks you to. And you don’t bring up other people’s families unless you have a death wish. Mess with me and I’ll show you what happens to people who don’t stay in their lane.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Just a little advice.”
“Thanks for the tip.” I rise and step into her personal space. She lumbers back, her triumphant grin dripping into a scared little frown. “But Alistair already ripped my behind for what I did today. So don’t worry. You can save your little intimidation act for someone who has the patience.” I slam my hand on the cubicle wall near her head. “Mess with me again and you’ll find out what it means to see your backside from your top lip.”
“What?” Her eyebrows scrunch.
“That’s a threat. Understand?”
Her eyes narrow.
I pretend to throw a fist at her.
She yelps and jumps back, shielding her face. When she realizes that I was only miming a punch, Heather gets three shades of red. “You’re a thug!”
“That’s right. I come from a long line of don’t give a damn. And don’t you forget it.” I step away from her and fall into my chair, which welcomes me with a loud creak.
The office is deathly silent.
I notice a few phones out and snapping footage of our interaction.
“What are you looking at?” Heather shrieks.
Muffled laughter meets her statement.
Heather huffs and charges out of the office, much to my relief. The other cubicles settle into a semblance of normal. No one talks to me. They seem withdrawn. Waiting. Everyone is tiptoeing around, anticipating an explosion from Alistair.
But it never comes.
“Miss Jones.” Ezekiel calls me after lunch.
I notice the executive assistant beckoning. My chair skates back as I jump to my feet. “Do you need something?”
He smiles. “Follow me.”
I trail him to the kitchen.
Ezekiel gestures to a table. “Why don’t you sit? I’m making coffee for Alistair and he mentioned you enjoyed a good brew.”
“He told you that? Today?”
“Oh not today.” Ezekiel’s neck flushes. “He had… different words today.”
“I can imagine.” I drop my chin into my palm and sigh.
“It’s not a big deal,” Ezekiel says as he fixes the coffee. “There will be other collaborations.”
“It’s a huge deal. Alistair sat me down and explained how important Baby Box was.” It’s one of the reasons I felt desperate when I saw the deal tanking. “Belle’s Beauty needed that contract.”
Ezekiel pours the black liquid into a smaller cup. “Belle’s Beauty isn’t hurting for cash.”
“Alistair’s vision isn’t money. It’s legacy.”
It makes sense now that I know he has a daughter. He’s burning himself to the ground to maintain both Fine Industries and Belle’s Beauty. He’s trying to build up his wife’s company, not for himself but for another generation.
“All problems aside, I think you did a very brave thing.” He stirs a spoon around the cup and it makes a light, tinkling sound.
“You’re alone in that sentiment.”
“He’ll never admit it, but Alistair has a hard time connecting with others. It makes it difficult to engage in presentations.”
“Are you allowed to say the boss man has flaws?” I ask. “Aren’t we all supposed to kiss his ring and talk about how perfect he is?”
Ezekiel laughs. “Perhaps I would use nicer language in front of Alistair, but he knows my thoughts. He knows his own limits as well.” The scent of coffee fills the air and loosens the knots in my neck. Ezekiel peers at me. “You were very brave to intervene.”
“And you’re very brave to be seen fraternizing with me.” I glance around in case the Big Bad Boss is stomping up and down the halls.
“I find myself drawn to outcasts.”
“Well thanks for confirming that no one likes me here.”
He smiles again, but he doesn’t deny it.
“I didn’t know I was breaking a cardinal company rule. I thought going to a meeting as a team meant playing as a team. I had no idea the boss expects everyone to sit around like mannequins when the ship is sinking.” Righteous outrage taints my voice. Until I remember that I screwed up by indirectly mentioning Alistair’s daughter. I sink into my chair and play with the hem of my jacket. “I really didn’t know Alistair had a child, Ezekiel.”
He gets a new cup and pours a second mug. “I heard about the… disagreement you two had after the meeting.”
Of course he did. The gossip mill in Fine Industries works harder than I do.
“Honestly, I’m surprised you’re still here,” Ezekiel adds.
My eyes widen. Does he mean here… in the building.
Or… on this earth?
“I’ve never heard of anyone speaking to Mr. Alistair like that and remaining in their position.”
“I made a mistake. I apologized.”
“I’m afraid apologies aren’t enough around here.”
“No?”
Ezekiel gives me a grim look. “Many have been terminated for far less.”
“Well, that’s unfair.” Does this guy think he’s a god?
“Alistair expects perfection from himself as well as everyone else. Which is probably why today’s performance put him in such a bad mood. He doesn’t tolerate even the slightest mistake.”
“That’s completely ridiculous. We’re not all walking AIs with perfect hair,” I grumble.
Though, if I think hard about it, Alistair could pass for a robot. It wouldn’t surprise me to find out that there are wires and memory chips behind his gorgeous face.
“My advice is to lay low for a while. And try not to take anything Alistair says to heart. Especially going forward.”
“You mean there’s more?” After all the yelling he did in the conference room, I thought he’d be tapped out of evil. “I’m sorry. I am. I was trying to help. I didn’t mean to step out of line.”
Ezekiel gives me a concerned look. “Be prepared. It might get worse.”
“For how long?”
He clamps his mouth together.
I groan. “Will he punish me forever? He’s not that much of a jerk, right?”
The moment the words are out of my mouth, I know the answer. The entire office flits into panic mode when they hear Alistair coming down the hallway. Now that I’ve incurred his wrath, I’m done for.
“I don’t get it. Why doesn’t he just ax me?”
“If he was going to fire you, he would have done it on the spot.” Ezekiel slides the coffee my way.
I slump over it. The smell is tantalizing, but I don’t want my current woes distracting me from the experience. Coffee this good deserves to be indulged.
“Then maybe I should just quit.”
“After all your hard work with the Yazmite project, you’re not going to see it through?”
I ponder the question. Potential career fulfillment versus subjecting myself to Alistair’s revenge? It’s a tough one.
“You do good work, Jones.”
“Who cares? He hates me. And the feeling is mutual.”
“I don’t know if it’s hate.” His shrewd eyes regard me carefully. “You’re different. You challenge him.”
“I’m his emotional punching bag.”
“I’ve never seen a punching bag that punches back.”
I laugh.
“What I’m trying to say, Miss Jones, is don’t give up.” His smile is warm.
I nod, still not sure what route I should take. “Thanks for the coffee, Ezekiel.”
“Not a problem.”
I linger in the kitchen because it’s quiet, and there are no coworkers whispering about me like our cubicles aren’t thinner than sandpaper.
Ezekiel’s suggestion that Alistair would have fired anyone else over what happened today makes me think.
If I remember correctly, he never told me why he hired me after the debacle at Belle’s Beauty HQ. Today, I royally messed up with Baby Box, but there was no discussion about letting me go either.
Why isn’t he firing me?
It can’t be because of my prestige or my brain. He has plenty of smart people working for him. I glance at my dress. It’s not low cut and it goes all the way down to my knees, but I caught Alistair giving me a once-over as if he appreciated the view.
Is that it? Does he just like me around so he can ogle my body?
Weird. I don’t get a pervy vibe from him. He treats his female staff with cold indifference. A scowl is never far from his face and his brutish expressions immediately cut off any flirting or playful behavior.
What could it be?
In the middle of my musing, my phone chirps.
It’s an alert from my company email.
To: Kenya Jones
From: Holland Alistair
Subject: Belle’s Beauty In-Store Promotion
————————————————————————————-
Miss Jones,
The in-store promotion for the Yazmite location has been approved. See the checklist of prep work and detailed guidelines attached.
First, create a checklist of necessary samples and promotional materials such as banners and invitations. Cross-check with the PR department and liaison with the graphics department to print the ads in time. Also, compile a list of all the samples available at the warehouse. I want it done by product number. I expect this task completed by midnight tomorrow.
Tomorrow, there will be a meeting with the marketing department regarding this promotion. You’ll need to order coffee at six o’clock so it will be ready in time for the meeting. Regarding the coffee order, you’ll need to ask the marketing team directly.
For my coffee, I’d like straight dark roast with two cups of cream and enough sugar. No, I can’t quantify what ‘enough’ means. Yes, you’ll have to figure it out.
You can get the company credit card from Ezekiel.
Also note that all Belle’s Beauty expenses need to be catalogued including the receipts, invoice numbers, and payment stubs.
Do not make any mistakes. Excuses will not be tolerated.
Regards,
Holland Alistair
CEO of Belle’s Beauty
I debate throwing my phone into the trash. Then maybe I’ll find a way to dump Holland Alistair there as well.
What kind of revenge is this? Did I do something that grave? I already explained that I didn’t mean to drag his daughter into the pitch. In fact, I took her completely out of the picture by suggesting we hire a model and use real life stories instead.
I tap my fingers against my bottom lip. Is this worth it? Is working with a monster like him worth the amazing salary and benefits?
Frustrated, I start typing out my resignation.
Another email comes in.
To: Kenya Jones
From: Holland Alistair
Subject: Resignation Letters
————————————————————————————-
Kindly withhold from any attempts at resignation or temporary leave.
Based on your actions at the Baby Box Headquarters, you are liable to be sued for business obstruction and breach of contract as outlined in page four of your employee contract which you signed when you entered the company.
Judgement will be reserved until we receive an official notice about the Baby Box contract. Until then, kindly arrange all the Belle’s Beauty order sheets by date and re-upload the accounting spreadsheets for the Yazmite location.
Regards,
Holland Alistair
CEO of Belle’s Beauty
I glare across the hallway in the direction of Alistair’s office. He’s poking me with his bright red pitchfork and I have no choice but to yield.
The jerk.
Maybe he wasn’t out to get revenge before, but this isn’t just business anymore.
This feels personal.
