... to my boss... but i don't know it yet... so off to the office...

meet the characters for the first day at the office...

Charity’s P.O.V.

 

I dragged myself from bed at the piercing sound of the alarm. I really didn’t want to go to work today. Let me tell you a bit about myself first. My name is Charity Dreeya Florence; I’m eighteen with long blonde hair and blue eyes. My parents run Florence Industries and I work for them as a receptionist… yes a receptionist for one of the managers. I’m working on my degree in law while I am still working for them.

The house was silent except for the distant growl of a hover in one of the other wings of the house, my parents were already working. Mother was on a business trip in Rome and Father was properly at the office already, in fact I’m not sure if he ever leaves it at the moment. Florence Industries is in a state of flux at the moment. Basically someone, we don’t know who, made some bad investment and we lost a lot of money and I mean a LOT of money. My parents had to throw a lot of their own money into the business to keep it afloat but I’m not sure it has worked. Not that they tell me anything. But I hear things at work, when the slave driver hasn’t got me making coffee or picking up his laundry. Yes I work for, let’s face it a b*****d. Oh well a girl has to pay for college- trust funds don’t cover everything.

Showering only took fifteen minutes, then I towel dried my hair and plaited it and wrapped in my towel went back upstairs to my walk in wardrobe. I pulled on matching lacy blue underwear and then some skinny fit black trousers, not jeans much to my disappointment but they aren’t allowed at the office. Then I buttoned up my sheer white blouse with three quarter length sleeves and pulled a charcoal grey fitted waistcoat on over the top. I hopped in my car, a black jaguar xj220, and drove to work singing along to the random songs that my purple iPod nano churned out loudly through my speakers.

I scanned my way into the building and let over the front desk to greet my best friend and fellow receptionist, Mara. She hugged me awkwardly over the high counter top and whispered to me,

“The slave driver has been asking for you already; it’s only been half an hour but something has rubbed him up the wrong way he hasn’t stopped shouting since he got here. However he’s looking rather hot today an amazing Fellini Uomo suit and…”

I pulled away and swatted at her.

“As if I care! Why does everyone think he is so great he’s arrogant and a slave driver and not worth a second glance!” I whisper shouted.

“Really?” she whispered back as another person approached the desk. “I have seen you look at his a*s too.” She told me with a smirk.

“Fine I admit he’s hot but that’s ALL,” I hissed back with a scowl and stalked away, my heels clicking on white marble flooring as I headed for the lift. I pushed the button for the 49^th floor, one from the top, and waited impatiently for the doors to close. I know he’ll be waiting for me when I get there. A black leather briefcase swung between them just as they were closing and surprisingly HE stepped in to elevator.

“Good morning,” I greeted him frostily. “I thought you were upstairs in the office I was told at reception you were asking after me… already.” I muttered the last bit under my breath, swinging my long blonde plait round and fiddling with the loose ends agitatedly.

“Yes,” he replied, not looking up from his blackberry. “I spoke to your parents yesterday. They want us to meet them for lunch, urgently. And there have been some more invitations,” he grimaced at this fact, I noticed with a slight smile, but he did not stop. “Pick three per week no more. Make sure my tux is collected from the cleaners as well, some idiot blonde haired woman spilt red wine down it the other night.” He fired off a few more menial tasks at me but I had lost interest after the words lunch, parents and us and listened no further not even reacting straight away to his demeaning remark about blondes.

“Us?” I echoed sounding just like the dumb blonde I wasn’t, staring at him my plait hanging loosely at me side, hands motionless. He looked at me for the first time, his eyes hard and unfeeling.

“Yes us.” Then he looked away again. The lift pinged open again on the forty ninth floor and I stalked away from him my shock replaced by anger at his blasé, self-centred attitude. I punched my password into the keyboard of my computer with contempt and ignored him as he stared at me for a moment. I didn’t reply when he me to hold his calls either. Mara needed to hear this I decided opening up the company’s internal messaging system. I typed away speedily and sat sipping a hot coffee while I waited for a reply.

 

-

Michael’s P.O.V.

-

 

Behind the frosted glass windows that separated my office from Charity’s desk and the small reception area we had, I sank into my luxurious swivel chair with relief. I knew my dark eyes were rimmed with black, smudgy shadows. Tufts of my dark hair stuck up at the back of my usually well groomed head and a few spikes had formed at the front, falling into my eyes where it had grown longer. My suit and blue shirt were crumbled where I hadn’t had time to iron them and my tie felt like it was choking me. I loosened it with one swift hand movement as I pushed some of the long strands of hair out of my eyes with the other. Waves of sleep washed over me and I rested my head down on my desk and fell asleep quickly. Misty images of Charity floated peacefully through my dreams, bringing a small half smile to my face, wiping away some of the tension lines I had developed.

 

-

Charity’s P.O.V.

-

 

I fielded calls, sorted through what seemed like stacks of paperwork, letters and invitations for three hours, until twelve o’clock struck. Michael didn’t leave his office or ask for me to in all that time which was very unusual. To start with I was simply surprised by this unusual behaviour and then my earlier anger turned to concern when he didn’t reply to me buzzing him from my desk. His phone line was not busy, I could tell that from the little light on my own phone and there was no one with him, as I had sent away any one who had come to the office to speak with him. According to my diary and the bright yellow sticky note Michael had placed on the front of it, lunch with my parents was at half past twelve, a short way from the office block at a small exclusive restaurant. We needed to leave now. I buzzed again; still no reply. I’d just have to go in and get him; whatever he was doing in there couldn’t be that important.

The frosted glass door, that was hidden in the matching glass wall swung open silently and I winced as my high heeled boots clicked on the tiled flooring of the silent office. The blinds had been left closed, usually opened by Michael himself first thing in the morning and the office was only cast with streaks of dim light that escaped through the odd section of broken slat. One such line of light fell on Michael’s desk and with a start Dreeya realised he was asleep. I studied him from a few steps away. All alone and in the silence I started to notice things about him I hadn’t before. His face was almost pure white and stressed, his hair was longer and there was a slight shadow of stubble on his jaw, the designer suit Mara had pointed out to me earlier was crumbled and looked a size to big. He looked tired and over worked and ill I realised. I took a step or two closer to wake him and almost jumped out of my skin when he stirred with out my help. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, looking for the entire world like a sleepy six year old. I suppressed the urge to laugh and put on a straighter more professional face before addressing him.

“Michael,” his eyes snapped into focus on my face. “Its time for lunch.” He simply stared at me and now I felt like I had been intruding. I turned away from him slightly, towards the door. “I’ll meet you downstairs and find us a taxi.” I told him, and then hurried away.

Author's Note

just enjoy and have fun like i did writing it :D

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