Adeline Paisley
Just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse. Why, oh why, do you intend to fuck me over, god? Did I do something in a past life? Did I kill puppies? Surely it can’t just be my poor time-management skills. No one can be this late all the time. I am running late, and this isn’t the first time and probably not the last with my record of attendance. My floor manager is going to murder me.
I am stuck in traffic, seeing a small opening as I try to pull onto the main street. I zip out into traffic, only for the prick in the Mercedes behind me to honk his horn. I glare at him in the rearview mirror. I have been stuck at that turn-off for ages. Winding my window down, I flip him off before cutting into the next lane, smiling at his shocked face, like no one has ever dared flip him off before.
I pull into the parking lot. Why are there never any free spots? Probably because you are always late, Adeline, I mentally scold myself. I drive past the elevator, groaning. Only reserved parking. I am nearly tempted to park there before seeing a spot up the back, and I race toward it.
Parking my car, it scrapes the bollard. Fuck! I rush from the car only to realize I have left my heels on the passenger side footwell and have to race back to retrieve them. Grabbing them, I slam the door.
My bare feet are slapping the concrete floor toward the elevator doors that are closing. Reaching my hand out and stopping the doors from closing, I force my way in. My phone starts ringing loudly in my pocket.
The man in the elevator moves away as I reach around him, hitting the button to the ground floor of the building. Ignoring him, I see Bella’s name pop up on my phone screen when I retrieve it. She is the other secretary at the front counter with me. I answer it as I bend down, trying to place those goddamn heels on my feet and do up the clasp.
“I know, I know. I am late. Has Troy been by yet?”
“Not yet, but get your ass up here, girl. You gonna make the rest of his hair fall out,” she says in a rushed, hushed voice.
I hang up, pocketing my phone. I have been working for Colten Enterprises, a well-known tech company, and barely hanging onto my job thanks to Troy.
I continue fiddling with the clasp on my shoes when I feel my ass brush against something before a hand touches my side under my blouse, making me jump as a strange static sensation runs over my side and up my ribs where his hand’s come in contact with my skin under the blouse. A squeaking sound leaves my lips. I haven’t noticed another man in the elevator in my haste, and I am very embarrassingly brushing my ass against him, practically sitting on the man’s lap. Awkward!
“Sorry,” I squeak out, and he drops his hand back to his side, his hand clenched tightly.
“Mate,” I hear him mutter, making me turn to the man on the other side of me before realizing he must have been talking to him, and I have rudely shoved between them. But that’s not all; I recognize him as the man I have flipped off. Maybe he doesn’t recognize me; I pray he doesn’t. They are clearly high up the chain with how they dress.
Clearly, both are important, but that isn’t what makes me nervous. It’s the blood-red color of the man’s eyes I was practically sitting on as I did up my shoes. His gaze lingers like he is looking at a piece of meat he wants to rip into. I shrink under his gaze, wishing the elevator would hurry up. Praying I’d get out of this elevator without them recognizing me for cutting them off and my rude hand gesture.
The red-eyed man has some serious serial-killer vibes going on. He is gorgeous, and my god, is he tall. I am short, not midget-short, but short. I know that. But both are towering over me by at least two feet. His glare makes me a little uneasy as I move over toward the doors, giving him more space and trying to melt into the stainless-steel walls of the tin can we are stuck in together.
However, the other man is looking anywhere but at me: looking at the ceiling as if something interesting has captured his attention before he suddenly looks down, catching me staring. He has dark-brown eyes, so dark they almost look black. If it weren’t for the light, I wouldn’t have noticed the flecks of caramel in them. His lips tug up into a smirk as he runs his eyes up and down my length, making me hop from one foot to another awkwardly.
Is it hot in here? My temperature is rising dramatically. Turning to the other man, he is staring at me still; his red eyes are creeping me the fuck out. I pull at the collar of my blouse, feeling like it is slowly strangling me, a bead of sweat running down the nape of my neck. Of course, I had to become trapped in the dinosaur elevator; the thing was so goddamn slow. I knew I should have run for the other one. At least then, I wouldn’t have been suffering under their deadly watchful eyes.
“Nice contact lenses,” I say awkwardly, trying to break the strange tension between us.
His lips turn up in a smirk, his eyes flickering oddly, making me jump and press closer to the wall, his eyes taking on more of a predator-watching-its-prey vibe. I step away to the side, bumping into the man with brown eyes and the gray suit. His hand goes to my hip, holding me steady, his hand warm and also electrocuting me. What was up with this pair of creeps? I must be seeing shit. What was in that coffee I had this morning? He continues to stare, though he isn’t as tense now.
Okay, then. Silent and creepy. But hot as fuck with his five o’clock shadow and dark hair. He is wide, too. His tailored suit does nothing to hide the bulk of muscle it covers, both of them huge next to my small frame, and I feel like a deer in headlights as I am squished between them. I step forward when I realize I am still pressed tight against the man behind me. The heat of his body so close seeped into my back, warming me.
The door dings, and I turn around and rush out before it even opens fully, needing to escape the men I’ve been trapped with, my heart pounding as I escape their watchful gaze.
Troy is standing next to the foyer desk, arms folded over his chest, wearing an ugly green polka-dotted tie and a blue suit, his jacket impossible to button up over his potbelly. Slowing my pace, I groan when I realize I got busted yet again, coming in late. Bella gives me a sympathetic smile, pretending to be doing something on the computer.
“Adeline, this is the hundredth time you have been late,” Troy scolds me as I approach the desk.
“Bit dramatic there, Troy. I haven’t even worked here a hundred days yet,” I retort.
His eyes narrow. Since being here, he has made my life hell; not my fault I got the job over his niece. The man is determined to get me fired or make me quit.
His balding head and comb-over make his angry red face brighter. He technically can’t fire me, but he is great at whining to the bosses upstairs and getting me reprimanded. If it weren’t for Mason upstairs, I am fairly sure I would have been fired the third time I was late. Mason is a little sweet on me; it’s cute, but he definitely isn’t my type. I am not even sure I really had a type, but I know he isn’t it.
Troy’s gray eyes dart behind me, and he straightens up, removing his arm from the top of the desk. I look over my shoulder and see the godlike men I’ve been trapped in the elevator with. Both of them walk toward us with confused looks on their gorgeous faces. They both ooze authority, Troy instantly turning nervous, which also makes me nervous. He straightens out his suit, wiping his hands on his pants.
“Mr. Eli and Cyrus Colten, lovely to see you’re in today,” Troy says, using his brown-noser voice. Wait, that’s them. Shit. I was trapped in the elevator with the company owners, and I flipped them off. I am so fired.
I turn, forcing a smile that I knew looked pained or constipated.
“Troy, come see me upstairs,” the man with red eyes says, his tone harsh, not even glancing at me.
The other man watches me carefully before stepping forward. “What is your name?” he asks, his voice deep and rough. Great, I am definitely fired.
“Adeline, sir,” I sputter, his lips turning up in the corners before he nods, turning to the other man who is watching me again with that intimidating look on his face. I feel like prey when he stares at me like that, like a cornered little mouse. One thing I know for sure is that I want to stay the hell away from them. They are intimidating; something is severely off about them, blood-chilling and spine-tingling off about them, especially the one with the red eyes.
My heart is pounding so hard that I am surprised everyone can’t hear it as they walk past. Their cold demeanors set off my anxiety and put my brain into overdrive.
“Yes, Cyrus, sir. I will be right up,” Troy stutters nervously to the man with red eyes, also clearly intimidated by him.
So, the scarier-looking one is named Cyrus. That means that the man who’s asked my name has to be Eli.
Troy turns and glares at me, pointing his finger before he groans, knowing he can’t leave the men waiting. He turns on his heel and stalks off toward the other elevator.
I let out the breath I’ve been holding before ducking behind the counter and putting my bag in the drawer.
“You were in an elevator with Cyrus and Eli Colten. Damn, those men are fine but so scary,” Bella says, fanning herself with a piece of paper dramatically, her auburn hair blowing over her shoulder.
“Indeed, they are. I am fairly sure I am about to be fired or found in an alleyway murdered by them.”
“What? What did you do?” she squeaks out nervously, glancing at the now-closed foyer elevator they have disappeared into.
“First of all, I cut them off on the way here and gave them the finger when they honked their horn. Then I stopped their elevator, and they heard me on the phone to you.” I facepalm myself, internally cringing. “I told… I think Cyrus Troy was his name, that he had nice contact lenses.”
“Contact lenses?” Bella chuckles, her green eyes sparkling with humor.
“Yeah, he must be wearing contacts. No one has red eyes. I swear I saw them change, or am I losing it?”
“Red eyes?” Bella says, shaking her head, and I nod, knowing I am right about them being contacts. There can be no other explanation.
“So, what sort of flowers do you like?” Bella asks, making me look at her. Huh?
“For your grave, you better hope they don’t recognize you for cutting them off. They will destroy you,” she says.
At first, I thought she was joking, but the nervous look on her face scares the crap out of me.
“You wouldn’t be the first girl to go running from their wrath out of this building,” she adds, making my stomach drop. Great, just great.
The morning goes by quickly in a blur of answering phones and taking messages. Troy suddenly waltzes over to the desk with a huge triumphant grin. He leans on the desk, looking down at me before reaching down and taking the phone from my ear and hanging it up.
“You are so screwed,” he says in a sing-song voice.
“Why is that, Troy?” I ask, bored of his annoying little games. How does he even have a job here? I am yet to see him do anything that resembles work.
“Grab your stuff,” he says, not giving me any indication of what is going on.
I pick up the phone, only for him to take it from me again and hang it up.
“I am busy, Troy. Go annoy someone else,” I tell him, jotting down a message I’ve been listening to on the voicemail before he hangs the phone up on me.
“You don’t work here anymore,” he says with a big Cheshire-cat grin on his face, his beady eyes sparkling with mischief.
“What?” I ask worriedly. I can’t lose this job. I have my twin sister’s daughter to help raise. My mother would kill me if I got fired right now, especially with my sister doing a runner from the rehab clinic and dumping her kid on us.
“I said grab your stuff. You are moving upstairs,” he repeats.
“Upstairs?” I ask. Wouldn’t that be a promotion, then? I think to myself, but the sly grin on his face makes me nervous. I have a bad feeling that whatever is happening, I won’t like it.
“Oh, you think I am an asshole? Wait till you see who your new bosses are,” he drawls.
Oh no, I pushed the old fool too far. What has he gone and done now?
“Who?” I ask, and Bella stands up, also looking at him worriedly as she chews on the end of her pen, trying to figure out what is going on.
“Grab your stuff now, or I will fire that tight little ass of yours for good,” he says, looking around the corner of my desk and staring at my bubble butt. Eww, gross.
“And I will have your ass for sexual harassment,” I spit at him, grossed out as he licks his old dried-out lips. God, this old creeper infuriates me. Bella is glaring daggers at him.
I grab my bag and step around the desk, following him to the elevator. The doors close, and he stands silently, smiling. I want to wipe that smug grin off his face. He hits the twelfth-floor button, and my stomach drops, plummeting somewhere deep inside me.
Twelfth floor? My heart starts racing, and I feel like I am about to have a panic attack. He can’t be serious. Troy smiles brighter at my panic while I feel on the verge of throwing up.
“Yep, that’s right. You are now Cyrus and Eli’s new bitch,” Troy announces.
My stomach drops.
You hardly saw them, but I heard the whispers. No one wanted to work for them; they were a nightmare apparently, explosively angry, and just overall strange. Today was the first time I had ever come across them here; their presence was rare at the building. Was this punishment for cutting them off? Did they recognize me?
Their last secretary left crying hysterically. Bella told me she had apparently ended up in a psych ward muttering about demons and monsters, and she hadn’t returned since.
The doors open, and Troy shoves me out, nearly making me stumble. I turn, trying to get back in the elevator, the doors closing in my face.
“Adeline Paisley?” I hear a deep husky voice behind me.
My body tenses, fear running through me, and I gulp, goosebumps rising on my flesh. Troy’s really fucked me over this time.
I hesitantly turn around to find Cyrus directly behind me with the other man, Eli, who is just as equally imposing. I step back, both their eyes on me, and I suddenly feel tiny, like a mouse being watched by a lion, and I am about to become their new toy to torture. I actually would have preferred it if they fired me.
“We met in the elevator,” he says, raising an eyebrow at me. I feel the blood rush to my face at the memory. Wait, has he removed his contacts? His eyes are no longer red but a caramel, almost amber color.
“About that, I am so sorry. I am just going to go,” I tell them, about to hit the button on the elevator and run for my life.
“Did I say you could leave?” Eli says, making me jump before I turn around.
He is definitely more terrifying. His impenetrable gaze is watching me, and I feel the blood leave my face.
“You belong to us now,” he says.
Belong to them? What a weird choice of wording, I think to myself.
“You mean, I work here now?” I ask.
“Yes, you belong to us now,” he says simply, and I watch his eyes flicker.
I shake my head, a shiver running up my spine. Stress, it has to be. The only thing I can think of. Or the lighting.
I stand there awkwardly, rubbing my sweaty hands on my black slacks, my feet killing me as they continue to stare. Cyrus steps to the side, pointing at the desk. Eli is now sitting on the end. How did he move so fast? My feet feel like they are glued to the floor and weigh a ton as I stand frozen.
“I’m sure someone else would be better suited to work for you. I will go find them,” I offer, about to make a run for it.
Cyrus folds his arms over his chest. “No, we have already decided. We need a personal assistant, and you are it.”
I shake my head when he suddenly grabs my arm, pulling me toward the desk. He pulls the chair out, dumping me in it.
“Oh, and don’t be late,” he says over his shoulder as he walks off down the corridor to his office.
Eli turns around, perched on the end of the desk, and faces me. “Now, for the rules.”
“Rules?” I ask, confused.
He stares at me like I am mentally challenged, and I lean back as he leans closer. His eyes darken under the light. He sniffs the air slightly, and I feel my heart rate pick up at his closeness, feel his breath fan my lips. He is that close as he towers over me even while sitting. He smells good, manly like sandalwood and pine needles, and I find myself involuntarily leaning in.
“Yes, rules. You know what they are?”
I nod, snapping out of my strange trance, and he leans back with a smirk on his lips like he knows how much his being this close affects me.
“Always knock before entering our offices, no personal phone calls, no drama, and no snooping. You will also have to sign a non-disclosure agreement and fill out an employee questionnaire,” he says in a rush, my mind reeling at his words.
“A non-disclosure agreement?”
“Are you hard of hearing? Do I need to repeat everything again?” he asks.
I shake my head, pressing my lips in a line.
“Good. I will bring the paperwork out. Also, we will need your contact details and banking information.”
“HR has all that,” I blurt. He glares at me, and I quickly nod, shutting my mouth.
“As I was saying, I will need your banking information so I can organize your salary. There are also some other documents that need to be filled in. You will be our personal assistant, not just here but outside of work as well. You won’t be paid by the company but by us personally. Like I said earlier, you belong to us now,” he says, his lips tugging up deviously.
His words ring in my head on repeat. My mother is going to kill me. I can’t be someone’s on-call bitch. Who will get Maya to and from school? This is a nightmare. But if I say no, won’t my mother still kill me for getting fired?
Eli brings out the documents, dumping them on the desk in front of me. The pile looks daunting; exactly what they are hiding or worried about getting leaked makes me nervous. Maybe that is why the other woman ended up going nuts. What if they are secretly up to something sinister?
By the time I finish filling out the never-ending pile of documents, my hand is cramping. Like seriously, why they need to know how many sexual partners I’ve had, or my allergies and medical history is beyond me. There seem to be a lot of personal questions to be asked of an assistant.
Eli comes out, retrieving them before stalking off back to his office, and thankfully I don’t see either of them for the rest of the day. Today is my mother’s turn to pick up Maya from school, as today is her day off, meaning I don’t have to take my lunch break at her pick-up time.
When it hits five o’clock, I pack up my bag before darting to the elevator. What a day it has been, and I can’t wait to get home and sink into a hot bath.
