What the Heart Needs Read online

  Everything about him was imposing. Powerful. Maybe even a bit cruel from the way he held his mouth and the lack of smile lines in someone well into his thirties.

  He straightened as she eyed him up but he barely spared her a glance, focusing his attention more on the clock above her head. “Only a fool wouldn’t ask to know their wage,” he clarified in his strong voice.

  “Only a fool would risk losing an opportunity to work at one of the most stable companies in the country in these economic times. A company that, along with a great health benefit plan and 401K, has infinite room for advancement if one’s conduct suggest they are deserving of it,” Hannah said, whilst cursing herself for a tendency to be a word-vomit champion and a real snob when she felt personally challenged. “One could start at a minimum-wage job and be having their own office with six figures if they could prove themselves worthy,” she finished, her heart hammering in her chest with a mixture of defiance and nerves.

  The man entered the room as she started to speak and moved to stand next to Sally as he listened. An infuriating eyebrow arched somewhere in the middle of her speech and remained until she was finished.

  The silence thereafter was uncomfortable at best. Sally, bless her soul, fidgeted with her papers, cleared her throat awkwardly and said, “Well the salary is fifteen an hour at any rate. Just so you are aware. Fool or no, everyone needs to know what they are worth.”

  Hannah’s head cocked to the side at that as she fought hard to bite her tongue. She knew by that, Sally meant she herself made considerably more and was therefore worth more. In general and to the company. But she knew she would do no good getting into an argument with someone who held her future in their hands.

  Again there was silence. It elapsed slowly with the sound of the clock ticking it out. Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen.

  The man still stood there, glancing at her then turning his attention toward the clock. What was he even still doing there? It was troubling enough to have to deal with Sally and her snarky comments. But she had to put up with his silent presence, filling the room with a palpable awkwardness. He glanced back at her before turning to the door and opening it.

  “You’re hired,” he said, with his back to her before closing the door firmly.

  Hannah felt the wind whoosh out of her and the room’s energy softened noticeably. She hadn’t realized how anxious his presence had made her until he was gone. Unable to help herself, Hannah blurted out, “Who on Earth was that?” in an astonished high-pitched, school-girl kind of voice.

  “That, my dear, was EM himself,” Sally said, smiling in a way Hannah could only describe as mocking, bordering on condescending.

  “EM is an actual person,” she asked, thinking that EM was just some generic corporation title, not someone’s actual initials.

  “Elliott Michaels,” Sally said with a nod, throwing the file folder in the garbage. “Your new boss.”

  Hannah was caught somewhere between awe that someone his age could amass so much in so short a time and unease that someone so cold, dismissive and, well, rude was going to be her new boss. She was going to be HIS right hand. She had to keep HIM happy. Could a man like that even be happy? Could she ever do a satisfactory enough job to please someone who, from the looks of his company, obviously expects inhuman perfection from himself?

  “Well, Miss. Clary, I suggest a good night of sleep and sensible shoes. He will have you running all day. It is his intention you know,” she said, rising from her seat. “to run you right out of this office. As he has done with at least two dozen eager assistants over the past year. No one has lasted more than a week. He holds his staff to a nearly impossible standard and,” she said with an almost maternal look in her eye, “it seems he sets an even higher standard for those who will be around him day and night. Good luck, Miss. Clary,” she said, as she led her toward the elevator doors.

  “Thanks,” she said to herself because Sally had already shuffled back to her desk and picked up her phone. No rest for the wicked, as they say.

  She got into the elevator in what she could only call a daze. She felt as though she had just been through a natural disaster and survived but only to realize she was now prey to a herd of feral dogs. As the doors slid close, the young man standing next to his desk caught her eyes and held it. Right before she lost sight of him, he smiled and winked at her. And then she was alone again.

  Her car ride home moved slowly. Not for traffic or the in climate weather. She was just in shock for no better way to put it. She got a job. She was employed again. She didn't have to feel like a slacker for sitting home all day. She wouldn’t feel the twinge of embarrassment for having to call unemployment every week for a check she hadn’t worked for. She would have something to fill her time. She would have a paycheck again. She could have her television turned back on! She was, once again, a productive member of society.

  Downside, she would have long hours. She would have what seemed like an impossible boss. She would have to be pleasant to Sally.

  But, hey, a job is a job.

  No matter what, she could eek her way through it for a year and then start looking again if it was really as bad as everyone implied. She could certainly last that long at least. She didn’t know what kind of incompetent employees they had hired in the past that couldn’t last more than a week, but that was all sorts of pathetic.

  No job was so terrible that you can't tolerate it for at least a year.

  Three

  She wanted to quit after an hour. That was all it took.

  Her alarm screeched shrill and insistent. Before she went to bed, she had opened her curtains so the sun would wake her up fully. Unfortunately, the sun decided to take a rest that morning and was replaced by a heavy, unyielding rain. Wonderful. She pulled herself out of bed feeing achy and like she hadn’t slept at all. She threw herself into the shower, standing under the scalding water until she felt almost human again.

  She gave herself a pep talk over a steaming coffee. She was fully capable of handling anything that came her way. She was an intelligent, qualified career woman. She would not be intimidated by anyone. And she most certainly would not kowtow and hero-worship Elliott Michaels like Sally, and most likely, every other employee of the company did. She would demand and receive the respect she deserved. She would have an amazing first day at work.

  Hyper-vigilant about time as always, Hannah arrived promptly at eight. She stopped at the front desk to get her official security badge with her name and everything printed on it. It even said “full access”. The guard was the same as from the day before but this time he actually greeted her warmly and told her to have a great first day as she got in the elevator.

  The doors chimed and opened. Directly in front of them stood the young man from the day before. He was tall and lanky with sandy-brown hair and green eyes. He looked every bit a model from a hipster fashion magazine in his grey wash skinny jeans, grey blazer over a grey and green tartan plaid shirt and bulky green scarf.

  “Ah, fresh meat,” he said in a slightly feminine tone. “And you’re a pretty little picture, aren’t you?” he asked, then went on without a response. “My name is Tad. I have been here two years. It can be a hellhole but it pays well. Oh, I know. I know. It’s weird to see a male secretary. But I am very in touch with my feminine side if you know what I mean.”

  “Loud and clear,” Hannah said with a genuine smile. She loved gay men. They made the best workmates.

  “Well you are early. Walk with me and I’ll give you the scoop. But I need to fax these,” he said, holding up a stack of files as thick as a book. “So right this way,” he said and she fell easily in step next to him. “So like I said, my name is Tad. You already know Sally the Wicked Witch of the Top Floor if you ask me. Or anyone you ask for that matter. But you lucked out. She has no control over you. You get to answer to the boss and the boss only. Not that that is a good thing. The man scares me and I mean I have never even had him speak di
rectly to me.” Tad placed a piece of paper in the machine and typed the number in without looking. “I am sure you have heard about all the girls who came before you.”

  “Kinda hard not to,” Hannah said, taking half of the stack of faxes and taking them to the other fax machine. Tad had a yellow sticky note on each paper with the number it was to be faxed to.

  “It doesn’t help that no one trains you gals. And all the other girls have been real nasty so I never offered a hand. But I will try to be as much help as possible. I’ve been here for a while so I have come to… know some things.”

  Hannah noted his inflection and smiled, leaning closer. “Oh?”

  Tad took the bait. “Most importantly, he takes his coffee black. And, well, he takes his coffee with his oxygen so you should never let his cup get empty or he will be a real bear. He doesn’t talk much to any of us, except maybe Sally, and he will expect you to anticipate his needs. He won’t spell things out for you. Most days he is here before anyone else but me. I work an early shift. And he leaves after pretty much everyone else but the cleaning staff. You should become intimately acquainted with the florists in this area. He always has a woman on his arm. You know how men like him are…”

  “Ah…yeah,” Hannah agreed, assuming that he meant men are pigs who cant keep it zipped and that men who have money and power are even bigger animals.

  “He doesn’t have much of a family it seems. Other than his brother who also works here. Sort of. He drops in every now and then to discuss things with EM but mostly to make the gals, and my, heart flutter from his charm. His name is James. He is going to put the moves on you something fierce. My advice would be to playfully turn him down. EM wont like you fraternizing with his little brother.”

  “Understood. And I am not here to find a… lover. Or boyfriend or anything. I’m here to work.”

  “Oh, of course. I don’t want you to think I am implying anything else. It’s just… well, I think you will just have to meet him to understand. Oh, but look at the time, darling. You better get that coffee brewing. He will be here any minute.”

  And he was. The second the coffee pot chimed its completion, the elevator doors opened and there he was. He never looked up, holding the newspaper in his hand and reading something that had caught his interest. He wore an all black suit with a purple and yellow tie. Something about him looked even more intimidating than he had the day before.And he still hadn’t shaved.

  Hannah filled a cup quickly and, just as he was powering up his computer, she had it next to his hand.

  “Good morning, Mr. Michaels,” she said, smiling and hoping she was making a good impression.

  He grunted and took a sip from his coffee. And that seemed like that was the only reply she was going to get as he went on to check through his emails and typed methodically.

  Hannah waited silently at the front of his desk, hoping to god that he would give her some occupation other than standing around like an idiot. He left her there long enough to type a lengthy reply to an email before finally breaking the silence.

  “My car will need to be dropped off at the shop at nine-thirty for an oil change. My dry cleaning must be picked up. I have an appointment at eleven and I will need my car back by then. While I am at the meeting, I expect you to see to the planning of my business trip next weekend and finding a new housekeeper for me.”

  Hannah scrambled for a paper and a pen, jotting down as quickly as she could to make sure she didn’t leave anything out.

  “There is a package at Cooper Construction that I need picked up and then, of course, I will need lunch at a quarter to one. I also need a detailed schedule for tomorrow to be compiled by coordinating with all the secretaries out there. And these,” he said, hauling out an impressive stack of unopened letters, “will need to be gone through and replied to by the end of this business day. Understood?”

  “Yes sir,” she said.

  “That’s all,” he said before she had even stopped writing.

  Feeling thoroughly dismissed she walked toward the door. And it certainly wasn’t past her notice that he hadn’t even looked her way once during his speech.

  She couldn’t focus too much on feeling disgruntled because her mind was already working a mile minute. She would take the letters and read them and jot down notes for replies as she waited for the car to finish at the shop. From there she could get the dry cleaning. That was she could get the car back by eleven. From there she could make plans for the trip and type up replies to letters. She could order lunch on her way to pick up the package from Cooper Construction and then grab it from the restaurant on her way back to the office. Maybe she could grab a few bites from the lunch she had brought with her while she hit the newspaper and looked for a housekeeper. Then at sometime close to five, she could figure out what the secretaries in store for tomorrow and then type that out as well.

  She had it all planned out. Easy peasy.

  Except that it wasn’t. At all. She hadn’t factored in traffic or commuting time or just how often this man needed a refreshment of his coffee. It also had never occurred to her to inquire during his speech about exactly what car shop his car had an appointment at, or what he liked to eat, where his dry cleaning was, or how often he needed a cleaning lady. She already had Tad programmed into her cell phone as her first contact and had to text him at least ten times before she had even returned to the office.

  She rushed in, balancing the weird cylindrical tube the incompetent workers at Cooper Construction had finally given her after searching for it for twenty minutes in the crook of her arm, the dry cleaning in her hand, letters all but spilling out of her purse, and EM’s meal balanced between her chest and her arm.

  Maneuvering her elbow to open the door, she pushed silently into the office, dropping the package on the desk by the door, hanging up the fresh dry cleaning on the coat rack, and dropping off the lunch container to the side of EM’s arm. He said nothing, reading over some file. But he pushed his coffee cup toward the edge of his desk which she had learned was his way of letting her know it was empty.

  Hannah snatched the cup away aggressively and stomped out of the room, closing the door with a bit more force than was necessary.

  The insufferable man never even said thank you, let alone told her she was doing a good job. He never said anything but bark out an order and talk to more important people on his phone.

  He was a complete jerk.

  --

  She was a pleasant surprise. She handled the myriad of responsibilities he threw at her with looked like relative ease. And her defiant attitude hadn’t escaped his notice either.

  He didn’t think she was aware of it, but she had a tendency to mumble under her breath. While he couldn’t be absolutely certain, he was pretty sure she said something about gratitude and happy employees. And how money couldn’t buy people good manners.

  To him, it was a nice change from the meek and timid assistants he had scared away or fired for sheer incompetence in the past few years.

  She brewed his coffee too strong, no doubt due to her own caffeine addiction and her somewhat annoyed disposition.

  He wasn’t going to pretend he hadn’t noticed her appearance, though he tried to keep his gaze on his work. She was a stunningly beautiful woman. He had realized that the moment he had laid eyes on her in the interview room the day before. There was something about her sharp cheekbones, grey eyes, and black hair that screamed of a strong personality and a sharp mind. Her frame was much more curvy than you generally found in fashion magazines, but the undeniably feminine figure was altogether too appealing to him.

  But he had enough on his plate with work, and his incompetent brother, and the seemingly obsessed legal assistant he had taken out to dinner the night before. She had called eight times already. He was embarrassed for her. And even if it wasn’t for all of that, he knew better than to ruin the one decent employee-employer relationship he had had for years.

 
And he was too old for her.

  God, when did he get too old? Somewhere between college and the building of his headquarters or the merger with the East Trading Company that truly gave the company its financial security. Somewhere between knowing he had all the time in the world and, well… not.

  Then there she was again with that harsh set to her eyebrows, his coffee cup in one hand and a manila folder in the other. She had a pen stabbed through the bun in her hair and a smudge of what looked like copy machine toner on her jawbone.

  “Coffee,” she said, placing it in front of him then dropping the obviously packed folder on the side of his desk, “and copies of all the mail responses.” She picked up the pile of paperwork that needed to be faxed off his desk and cradled it against her hip.

  “Now about the housekeeper,” she started, waiting for him to show some sign that he knew she even existed.

  “What about it? I asked you to handle that.”

  Asked? He hadn’t asked for anything. Hannah took a deep breath and refused to let herself get any more frustrated. “Yes, Mr. Michaels,” she began in a voice that sounded much like her mother’s when she was a child and kept asking things of her when she was obviously otherwise occupied, patient yet irritated. “But you did not specify how often said housekeeper was to be employed, how much you will offer as a salary, and if you wanted me to do the interviews or line them up for you to do yourself.”

  “Indeed? Have I been so negligent?” he asked, taking his eyes off his paperwork and looking directly at her.

  She fought the urge to squirm under the discomfort of his striking blue eyes.

  “I need a housekeeper three days a week for as long as it takes her to clean the house. The salary will be two-hundred dollars a day, flat rate regardless of how long it takes to make the house immaculate,” he paused, seeming to debate something in his head. “You will line them up and interview them and, ultimately, will have the job of terminating them if they do not live up to my standards. Am I clear?”