09

Thursday, November 17

Through the fog clouding my mind, I faintly make out the ringing of my alarm clock, which has been ringing for several tens of seconds now. I reach out to give myself another 10 minutes while opening one eye. 6:20 a.m. I groan as I roll over and bury my head in my pillow. Theoretically, I don't start before 9 a.m., but since Tuesday, I arrive at the office between 7 and 7:15 a.m. to make progress on the Royal Beauty file and take advantage of these two hours alone in silence to be efficient. Finally, practically alone. Ms. Saint Martin and Mr. Archer usually arrive around 8:15 a.m.

If my awful boss doesn't even bother to say hello or give me a look, my sales manager comes into my office every morning to say hello and give me a few compliments. Although she seems to evolve in a higher social class, this very chic woman is nonetheless human and warm. Tuesday, she came to meet me to understand why I was coming so early. She then congratulated me for my involvement and assured me that she would not forget it. Beyond the professional ultimatum given to me by Mr. Archer, this famous blue file represents a personal challenge for me: I want to prove to this macho man that I am a gifted and competent woman and not a brainless potiche. Apparently what he sees when he looks at me seems to please him, so I'm going to be happy to show him that behind my looks hides a reliable and competent employee. I'm going to get this deal, come what may.

I close my eyes and count to 10 again. Despite my fatigue, I motivate myself and get up. My first morning reflex is to put on some music, in order to gently get out of this fog and I'm off in the shower. Even if Mr. Archer's completely inappropriate remarks on my style of dress deeply offended and revolted me, I must admit that I really like my new look, much less classic and more feminine, modern. Today, I'm opting for a thin black and white sweater with slightly vintage geometric patterns, paired with a short imitation leather skirt and my black boots. I tie my long hair in a high messy bun and apply my makeup to my face for a natural result and a healthy glow. Even though I've only been into this routine for 4 days,

While having lunch, I check my phone and find two unread messages from Big Brown Bear. When I went to bed last night, we were exchanging messages and I think I fell asleep before his last reply! In my defence, I am really exhausted by this new rhythm and the many overtime hours that I impose on myself are tiring me both physically and nervously. His last message, which reached me at 9:58 p.m., is there to prove it.

Big brown bear: Enough job talk! Have you made progress on your investigation?

Big brown bear: Good little marmot... apparently you must have fallen asleep, so have a good night and write to me tomorrow. I can't wait to hear your new guesses. I remind you that you only have 48 hours left otherwise you will have to comply with all my requirements, that's the deal!

I smile reading these messages. He left me a week to guess his first name, otherwise I would have to endure his most outlandish requests for 24 hours without the possibility of refusal. Well... I already told him that I wouldn't do anything compromising. I'm starting to understand him well and I'm all the more eager to find out his first name for myself to shut him up but also to avoid these 24 hours ahead... hectic. Since last Friday, I have already eliminated a lot of track. I know that his first name is "timeless", that it is neither of Italian, nor American, nor Iberian origin, that it is not a compound first name, that it does not end in "O" and that has more than four letters. I have already gleaned a lot of

I take a few minutes to answer him before leaving. For almost a week, we have been communicating by message every day and his little words are welcome during this week from hell!

Cancan09: Sorry for yesterday, I think I fell asleep without realizing it, I came home so late. Roll on tomorrow night! And don't gloat too quickly, I told you I'll find your name, there's no way I'm leaving you in charge for 24 hours!

I glance at the clock which tells me that it's already time to leave and I climb into my vehicle. When I cut the engine of my car in the parking lot of La Soierie Saint Martin, the dim lights emanating from the building tell me that the cleaning team is busy. I walk over to my office and open the Royal Beauty folder so as not to waste time. I can't wait to return it and have this all behind me! I sure love my job, but I'll enjoy my days more when that sword of Damocles that hangs over my head is gone.

About an hour after my arrival, when I was fully immersed in my market research and analyzing statistics that seemed strategic to me, I was startled when I saw Ms. Saint Martin passing by my door, who was on the telephone followed of Mr Archer not giving me a look. I don't mind his attitude and I watch him pass without saying a word. His look appeals to me: instead of his usual black suit, he wears a completely different outfit today. His slender legs are perfectly molded in raw fitted jeans and his torso reveals through his blue shirt bandaged muscles that...

You are digressing, Candice! Before he disappears completely from my field of vision, I can't help but sneak a peek at his posterior which... Oh my god! This thing is perfect! Muscular, plump, firm... Candice, damn it, stop! I shake my head slightly to dismiss these inappropriate thoughts and try to get back to work. Well, on the one hand, he never hesitates to stare at me, so why should I feel guilty?

When the entire sales team takes the usual 10:30 a.m. coffee break, I resolve to join them so as not to be completely excluded from the first week. The discussion that animates Alessandro and his assistant Mélissa appeals to me. They are talking about one of Royal Beauty's biggest competitors on the Italian market and if I understood correctly, the latter ordered a large quantity of a very particular, custom-made silk a year ago. expressly for a special collection.

-Excuse me, I heard you talking and I'm interested. I work for a big client who is the direct competitor of Valentino. Could I have a copy of this client file?

-Uh... yes of course but what do you want to do with it? This deal was just a one-shot, a one-off order for a one-off event, Alessandro informs me in his chewy Italian accent.

-I tell myself that if I offer my client a completely different service from your client, I could play on the argument of demarcation and not take the risk of offering them a collection that they have already seen elsewhere.

My argument seems to satisfy the sales representative in charge of the Italian zone since he confirms to me that a copy of the file will be sent to me this morning. I stay a few more minutes to discuss with my colleagues then I go back to my blue folder. Luckily, Mélissa being very efficient, I received the Valentino file very quickly. I then begin to dissect it from every angle and the information that I discover germinates in my mind a bold commercial proposal. It only remains for me to analyze the feasibility of my idea.

Emboldened by these new avenues of work, I don't even notice that my colleagues have left for lunch. I had warned them that I would eat a quick sandwich at my office so as not to waste time and thus be able to leave quite early tonight to attend my dance class. My stomach begins to growl louder and louder, so I reach into my bag to pull out my frugal lunch.

I try not to mess up my computer and my files by eating on my desk, but it's not easy when you're a clumsy type like me. I leave my half-eaten sandwich and open bottle of water on my desk and get up to retrieve a binder from the shelf behind my desk. I take a few moments to stealthily leaf through the contents when a funny feeling runs through me.

I feel a certain feverishness, the atmosphere is charged with electricity and a shiver runs through my body despite myself. Still with my back to the door, the silence that reigns in the room helps me to perceive all the sensations that inhabit me. I feel my heart beat slightly faster, my breathing in turn adopts an imperceptibly more jerky rhythm and I flinch without meaning to feel my stomach contract. I look up from the binder I'm holding in my hands and stare at an invisible point in front of me. I force myself to inhale slowly to regain my composure before turning around. I already know what I will discover when my body rotates. Or rather who I will discover. I know it, I feel it. He's there. I don't even know why I'm so sure but I can feel it.

I close my eyes for just a second before turning around and putting a fake relaxed smile on my face. I was right, he is there, leaning against the door frame of my office. His arms crossed over his chest show off his muscles, which isn't really necessary given the way his shirt is already sculpting his body. My legs start to shake slowly and I don't understand why I feel so vulnerable in his presence.

It goes beyond the simple boss-employee relationship, as daunting as that is. My throat knots more and more and the disturbing sensation that I feel in my stomach is only accentuated. It's as if I lost control of my body and its reactions. Until now, I was convinced that all this was due to his malevolent attitude but today, everything is different. His expression doesn't strike me as hostile for once, but I remain on my guard, I'm sure he's a boss who likes to destabilize his employees. I then notice his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes scan the room and I begin to panic inside.

As I'm about to take my courage in both hands to break this unbearable silence, his eyes meet mine and never let go. He doesn't undress me with his eyes, he doesn't let his eyes descend on my chest or my legs, he doesn't give me a lustful look. No, not this time. This way he has to fix me is totally unknown to me and I'm like hypnotized. This intense exchange must perhaps last three seconds or five minutes, I am unable to say. Luckily for me and my racing heartbeat, his deep, confident voice finally rings out.