Chapter Four

**CHERYL**

As I walked towards his office, I couldn't help but feel nervous. Despite having worked with Damien for three years, he still had a way of making me feel like a newbie. Especially moments when he was like this. I took a deep breath before knocking twice on his door.

“Enter,” his gruff voice boomed from the other side.

I opened the door and stepped inside. The room was immaculate as always, with everything neatly organized on his desk. Damien sat behind his desk, his face stern and unyielding. He didn't acknowledge me as I walked in.

I cleared my throat. “You called for me, Mr. Heron?”

My gaze fell on him and And oh my God! My heart does this flip–flop thing that made me catch my breath... So a quick question, is it possible for a grumpy and irate man to be undeniably sexy on a hot, sunny afternoon.

Damien was dressed in a charcoal Italian suit with a snowy–white shirt open at the collar. The absence of a tie drew my gaze to the strong, masculine column of his throat. I swallowed. Hard.

God, this is all shades of wrong. I shouldn't be noticing my boss in that kind of way... ???????? ?ℎ?? ℎ?'? ?? ???ℎ???. ????? ?????? ?ℎ??. I chanted in my head.

He finally looked up at me, his piercing chocolate–brown eyes boring into mine. “Yes, I did. I have a new project that requires your attention.”

I mentally groaned. Of course, there always was a catch. “Sure, what do you need me to do?”

He handed me a file. “I need you to research on our competitor's product and come up with a plan on how to beat them.” He leaned back in his chair.

“Also,” he added, “I need you to conduct a small wave customer survey and it should be limited.”

I pressed my lips together. Right. For the tenth time, this week. Did I just imagine that this obnoxious man was attractive?

Cue a vigorous mental gag.

I flipped through the file, already feeling the weight of the task on my shoulders. “When's the deadline?”

“End of the month,” he replied.

Don't think about it, Cheryl... You can't be thinking about killing your boss, ???ℎ??. Breath in and out slowly. Don't think about the heap of other projects lined up to be submitted by the end of the month too.

Instead of throwing myself across his stupid massive desk and strangling his pretty masculine neck, I plastered an exaggerated smile on my lips as usual. “I'll get on it right away.”

“And, yes,” he drummed his fingers on his desk. “Get me the file on Mr. Baron and while you are at it, get rid of every evidence of his existence as a client at Heron industries.”

Already feeling the tiredness beginning to sip into my brain, I simply nodded. “Of course, Mr. Heron.”

“Good,” he said, dismissing me with a wave of his hand. “Don't disappoint me.”

I turned on my heel and walked out, closing the door behind me. Once outside, I slumped against the wall, feeling overwhelmed by the amount of work that I had to do. But I couldn't let Damien down. He might be an asshole, but he was also my boss and I had bills to pay.

As I made my way to my office, I saw Ellie watching me with a concerned look. “Everything okay?” she asked as I sat down.

“Yeah, just another project to add to my plate,” I replied, already flipping through the file.

She shook her head. “How do you cope with him? I swear, if I had to work with him, I'd probably have a nervous breakdown.”

I shrugged. “You get used to it, I guess.”

Ellie's eyes widened. “How can you get used to being treated like crap?”

I smiled wryly. “It's not about being treated like crap. It's about knowing that this is my job and I have to do it. It's not always going to be roses and sunshine.” I smirked at her. “ And let's be honest, The Boss treats everyone like crap.”

“Yea, that's right.” she laughed. “Well, if you ever need a break from him, you know where to find me and my bottle of wine.”

I laughed, feeling grateful for having such a good friend in Ellie. “I'll keep that in mind.”

As the day wore on, I found myself buried in work. From the new projects Damien had given me, to the countless emails and phone calls that needed my attention, it seemed like the day would never end.

****

“Ugh!” I yelled a few hours later. I take back my words from earlier, you can't get used to being treated like this! Hours and hours of brainstorming and still nothing.

I had literally spent hours working my butt off, and even worked overtime, just to make sure I made a dent in the huge paperwork waiting for me to attend to. But it all just seemed as if my efforts were in vain. Everything was still exactly as it was before.

Ha! Talk about making a dent!

So now, I'm exhausted, frustrated and hungry. Emphasis on the frustrated and hungry, please.

Unable to contain it any longer, I bolted to my feet and began to pace along the whole length of the sitting room. I'm so angry and hot I'm surprised smoke isn't fuming from my ears like it does in those Looney Tunes cartoons.

Oh, great! Now I compare myself to silly cartoon characters. “Just great!” I barked a mirthless laugh.

“Ok, so, are you gonna tell me why you have spent the last couple of hours, stomping all over the area and yelling at nothing in particular?” Gwen piped in from the corner of the room where she's sitted in the recliner, peeking at me from above a thick spined paperback romance book.

I threw her a haughty glance. “No,” I replied and continued with my pacing.

“Ok.” she shrugged. “And you really need to change out from that outfit,” she threw a hand in my direction. “You look like you might combust any moment.”

My hands suddenly grew heavy with the need to sink into my hair and pull at the roots. I increased my pacing, solely anxious to get rid of the pent up fury building in my chest.

“Now you're gonna wear a hole through the floor,” Gwen mumbled, not so discreetly under her breath.

“Its just floorboards for peanuts sake!” I roared, my chest heaving with the effort to control my emotions.

A stunned silence swept over the room. I could swear that even the apartment next door went hush.

Gwen was just staring at me, belligerently.

And then I screamed.

“Ugh! I hate him so much,” I seethed, my breathing turning ragged. “How dare him! Just because he's some kind of a hotshot bachelor billionaire, doesn't give him the right to treat people like this!”

“Umm, Cheryl–”

“— Oh! That arrogant, egocentric, cruel, knot–headed, cold hearted, hot headed, A–class, corporate jerk!” I exploded all in one breathe.

Gwen's jaw dropped to the floor in astonishment, with her eyes bulging in their sockets. “Ok... So, that was like the most brutal thing that I've heard in my entire life,” her free hand dropped to rub the front of her sweatshirt. “Remind me never to get on your bad side, huh?”

My shoulders rolled back with satisfaction. Now, that felt so good. Maybe I should this more often, curse him out later so loud at my own convenient time. Seems like I've found the perfect therupatic solution to my situation.

I turned to Gwen and grimaced sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“No,” she smiled or more like bared her teeth at me. “It's absolutely fine. Continue–” she gestured wildly at my position. “– with what you are doing.”

She then proceeded to bundle herself out of the room so fast, I'm surprised she didn't sprain an ankle in her haste.

I threw my hands up in the air. “Great. Just great.” And this time, I really did sink my fingers in my hair and tugged painfully at the roots.

Now, my roomie and best friend probably thinks I'm a pyscho.

Fantabulous.

**DAMIEN**

I'm standing at the window in my study nursing a cold beer and gazing out at the vibrant nightlife of Chicago playing out right before my eyes.

Once upon a time, I would have down there, somewhere. Probably in a club, looking for a warm body to sink into.

Memories from the past assailed me and my fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle. I tipped back the bottle and took a healthy swig.

But I wasn't that naive, guillble college boy anymore. I was a man now and I had duties to perform.

My phone suddenly trilled from where I'd tossed it to the table earlier. I glared at for a couple of minutes before I snatched it off the table.

“Heron,” I growled.

“Jesus Christ, buddy, you just gave me a heart attack sprinkled with eeriely goosebumps,” Craig said. “What'da actual fuck was that!”

The pressure in my chest lessened and I sighed. “What do you want, Craig.”

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Now, that's no way to greet your best bud, Heron.What happened to ’ℎ?? ???! ? ?????? ???. ???? ?? ??? ?? ????’ ? A stick got stuck in your ass or something?”

I rolled my eyes at his usual theatrics.“Fuck off, Wayne.”

“Ouch.” Craig chuckled ruefully. “That really hurts, Heron. I think I just developed a hole in my heart.”

A hint of a smile quirked the corner of my mouth. “Don't you have any other better thing to do other than bugging me.”

“Umm, apart from fucking my incredibly horny pregnant wife around the clock– not that that's not a good hobby, by the way– I'm pretty jobless as of late.” He laughed. “And, hey, why didn't anyone tell me that pregnant women needs to be fucked on a daily bas–”

“I really don't need to hear about how you and Jessica has been copulating like rabbits,” I interjected. “And what happened to you managing your billion dollar company?”

Craig scoffed. “I grew bored, man. Turns out spending the whole day picking out outfits and doing pedicures and manicures with your pregnant wife is much more interesting.”

Shaking my head, I turned and headed back towards my desk. This is going to be a long night, might as well settle down for it.

“Hey!” he suddenly exclaimed, excitedly. “What if I dropped out and opened an exclusive spa for pregnant women! I bet it would be one in town. God! Am such a genius.” he clapped his hands and a dull headache throbbed in my temples.

I waited for him to laugh it off. “Ok, since you're not applauding my wonderful idea, I would take it wasn't a bright idea at all.”

I grunted my response. “Why did you call me, Craig?”

“Duh! Because I missed you, of course!” he snorted. “So what do you say we catch up over a drink or two. There's this new bar that opened earlier this week–”

“Am not interested,” I interjected. I took another swig from my bottle

“Oh, com'on, Heron. Don't be such a spoil sport, It will be fun.” he whined.

My headache intensified by the minute, fun as I had learnt years ago, spelt different things for I and Craig. He's not going to drop this anytime soon.

“I thought you were practically glued to Jessica? What happened to playing house and all those girly stuff?” I tried diverting from the subject.

“Blah! Jessica wouldn't miss me for a few hours…. And don't try changing the subject, Heron.” he warned me and then gasped theatrically. “Don't tell me that you're just holed up again in that fancy penthouse of yours!”

I knew I should have gotten another bottle before answering this call. I mused darkly.

“Jesus Christ, Heron. You really to need to go out more – and no, I don't mean those industry events, conference or business meetings that you attend– I mean like, really going out and meeting people,” he said with a hint of frustration. “Little wonder you have been grouchy and grumpy as of late. And your people skills are getting crappier.”

I arched a brow at my phone. “My people skills are fine, thank you,” I said brusquely.

“That's bullshit and you know it.” he spat. “God knows how I've managed to remain your best bud for all these years and not have a mental breakdown.”

“I believe you appoint–”

“Wait a fucking minute,” he interrupted me. “When was the last time you got laid? … No, wait, let me rephrase that, You need to get laid!”

“Good night, Wayne.” I told him.

“She wouldn't have wanted this life for you, Damien.” he whispered at the last moment and the line went dead.

I sat at that position for God knows how long, just staring at my phone.

He was right but confirming that statement would mean having emotions and emotions were something I had forefitted a long time ago.

Emotions were what made me weak then but now, I was older and I was wiser. And I refused to be entangled with anything emotion.