His Secretary:Undone(7)

I look up at him. He's smiling, like he knows exactly how obnoxious he's being.

"Obviously," I echo. And then I smile back, because sometimes I just can't help it.

He holds my gaze for a moment, and I realize I'm opening my mouth to speak.

"Thank you, Adrian."

At first, there's no reaction. Then his eyes open a fraction wider, I'm  sure I'm not imagining it - his face softening slightly in confusion and  genuine surprise. I don't know why I said it. I don't know why I called  him Adrian. I don't think of him that way, except now apparently I do.

"Right, well," he says, suddenly, pushing off my desk and disappearing down the hallway. "No problem. It's a business expense."

I don't actually think it is, but that's between him and his accountant.  It's funny, though, how he almost seems to be deflecting it. Normally  he absorbs any positive attention like a sponge. Or any negative  attention, for that matter.

Who the hell is this man, and what did he do with my boss?





Chapter Four





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BTW, I loved that scene when the lingerie just showed up at her  doorstep. I was laughing so hard when she just set it down on the floor  stared at it from the across the room before she could even open it. I  can just imagine doing the same thing. And it was super hot how he never  even asked to see her in it, he just wanted her to feel sexy at work. I  can't imagine wearing stockings and garters and a lace thong would  really be all that practical for a minimum ten-hour day, but hell, with a  guy like Dirk I'd be happy to find out.





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You've never worn lingerie under your work clothes before? You really  should try it out. I bet your boss would treat you differently.





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lol. If I flashed him, maybe. Otherwise he'd never notice. Trust me, he only looks for things to criticize.





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I dare you to wear thigh-highs and a skirt short enough to show off the  tops of them when you sit down. I guarantee you'll get a reaction out of  him.

***

"What are you up to later, doll?"

Ugh ugh ugh ugh.

Mike from the legal department is slimy. And not like, Mr. Risinger  slimy. That's not even a good word to describe Adrian. On the surface it  seems to fit, but it doesn't. Mike is slimy slimy, like he practically  leaves a trail behind him. He definitely thinks he's better than  everyone, and he especially thinks he is entitled to treat this company  as his own personal harem, willing or not.         

     



 

"Watching Mr. Risinger put his fist through your sternum later, if you  keep talking to me that way," I tell him, calmly. I don't know if it's  true, but it works as an intimidation technique. Yet he keeps coming  back, like a dog getting sprayed by a skunk.

"Keep playing hard to get, it only makes me … well, you know," is Mike's parting shot, as he saunters out of the room.

If he keeps up with this shit, I'm going to need an airsickness bag for my desk. It seems to get worse every day.

Putting the incident out of my mind, I start clicking through my inbox  and planning for my shopping trip later. I know there's a plus-size  boutique not too far away, so I should be able to hit it on my lunch  without losing too much time. I'm still completely swamped, but at least  I have a plan of action, and that makes me feel slightly calmer.

Now, if everything can just go according to plan.

***

After grabbing a protein bar from the vending machine, I stop by  Adrian's office to let him know I'm going shopping. He hasn't told me  about any meetings and his phone line's not lit up, so I don't bother to  knock, as I often don't.

But he's not alone. One of the interns, from Accounting, I think, is  sitting across from his desk, curled up in a posture that reminds me of a  soda can that's been stepped on. Her face is streaked with tears. Oh,  shit. I completely forgot about the coffee incident. He must've picked  someone at random to unleash his wrath on.

Anger is bubbling up inside me, but I can't make this situation any  better by jumping into the middle of it - at least, not until I'm sure  what's going on. "I'm sorry," I blurt out, taking a step back. "I  didn't … "

"It's all right," says Adrian. His voice is low and serious, and he  doesn't have that glint in his eye like when he's just told somebody  off. Maybe I'm wrong, after all. "She's just leaving. Thank you for  coming to me, Ashley. You can go home for the rest of the day."

She nods, sniffling, and makes herself scarce.

I spend a few seconds in silence, trying to figure out what the hell I just missed.

"Sit down, Meghan." He's tapping his fingers on the desk in a very  particular way, and it's something I've grown to associate with an  executioner's drum call. "Do you know Mike Morgan, from legal?"

I'm chewing on my lower lip without meaning to. "You could say that. Sometimes he stops by when you're not around."

Adrian interlaces his fingers, elbows resting on his desk. "Impressions?"

"Creepy," I say, without hesitating. "High octane creepy. Why?"

"Did he ever touch you?" It's a matter-of-fact question, and I'm not used to Adrian not having a tone of some sort.

"God, no." I'm horrified. "I'd twist his arm off. Did he … "

Adrian's face tells me everything I need to know. My stomach sinks.

"I'm … shit, I should've said something." I hug myself tightly. "I figured  he was just … I don't know what I figured." I figured you'd tell me to  laugh it off. "That poor girl."

"Not your fault," says Adrian, shortly. "He's counting on nobody wanting  to make a scene. He knows exactly how far he can push someone before  they'll talk. It's like a sixth sense." He picks up a pen uncaps it  firmly. "But this time he misjudged."

I've never seen him like this. As insufferable as he is, he's never said  the kinds of things Mike says, or made me feel the way Mike did. And  he's never given me any reason to assume that he doesn't take it  seriously. I just did. And I was wrong.

"Shouldn't H.R. be handling this?" I'm not really sure what else to say.

He smiles, thinly. "Ask me again tomorrow when I'm interviewing for a new head of department."

Jesus. "Did they blow her off?"

"Well, it seems Kelly is good friends the Mr. Morgan's sister. Their  kids have soccer together. And people ask me why my ultimate dream is to  staff a company entirely with robots."

"If I was his sister, I'd throw him under the bus so fucking fast … " I'm  scowling. "But, who knows if his family even has a clue."

Adrian's smile grows a tiny bit warmer. "I know you would," he says.  "That's one of the main reasons why I keep you around here. Can you sit  in in on the bloodbath?"         

     



 

What he's really asking me is if I'll be comfortable. Which is a strange  question, coming from him, even hidden between the lines. "It would be  my pleasure," I tell him. H.R. regulations insist on a witness for  firing meetings, and I've done it before in a pinch, but this one should  be particularly satisfying.

I take a deep, calming breath while he buzzes for Mr. Morgan to please  come to his office. Adrian sits down, cracks his knuckles, and rolls his  neck.

Showtime.

"Jeeze, it's like a funeral in here." Mike looks around the room, and I  can practically hear the crickets in his head. "Am I in trouble, or  something?"

A beat.

"Sit down, please." Adrian's voice is as cold as a marble floor. "I  heard a disturbing story about you this morning. I think you know the  incident I'm referring to."

Mike goes white as a sheet. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Let me refresh your memory. It involved an intern named Ashley, and  your hand." He folds his arms across his chest, and it's probably the  most terrifying thing I've ever seen in my life. "Ringing any bells  yet?"

"No," Mike insists, his voice getting quieter every time.

Adrian sighs, crisply. "I saw it on camera, Mike. Let's stop with this."

"What exactly did you see?" He swallows hard.

"Your hand grabbing her ass, mostly." Adrian fiddles with a pen between  his fingers. "And you whispering some very sweet endearments in her ear,  I'm sure. Does that jog your memory?"

Mike swallows again. "It was an accident."

Adrian gives him a look that could curdle milk.

"I was just joking around," Mike tries, his hands shaking now. "It was … just a little … "

Adrian's fingers are beating out that snare on the desk again. Somewhere, the hangman ties his noose.

"You know how they are!" Mike finally bursts out, angrily. "Always  playing coy and acting like they don't want the attention, but they … "